Gone Bad

by J. B. Turner

“When he could. He was married.” She shrugged. “I know, it’s appalling, but I’m not known for making great choices.”

  “I’m trying to determine more about him. Did any of his friends visit?”

  Burke said nothing, a faraway look in her eyes.

  Meyerstein grabbed her wrist. “Kathleen, look at me!”

  Burke stared at Meyerstein like a frightened rabbit. “Yeah, what?”

  “I would expect someone like Hunter to have certain close-knit friends.”

  Burke nodded.

  “Kathleen, you need to help me out here.”

  “It was a long time ago … eight fucking years.”

  “What about photos? Have you got any photos?”

  Burke shook her head. “He didn’t like getting his photograph taken. Really didn’t like it one bit.”

  “Kathleen! Give me some goddamn names! This is some serious shit you’re involved with. And you need to give us something in return. Do you understand? We’re not messing around.”

  Burke bit her lower lip and stared at the floor. “There was one characteristic … two guys. But I distinctly remember the same tattoos. Both on the upper arm.”

  “What kind of tattoos?”

  Burke screwed up her face and closed her eyes. “Clovers, you know, shamrocks …”

  Meyerstein looked at Reznick and nodded. They both knew what that meant.

  “And the initials AB.”

  Reznick nodded. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Aryan Brotherhood. I’ve heard about them, but Hunter didn’t have tattoos like that.”

  Reznick said nothing.

  “They were kinda scary.”

  “What about names?”

  “I can’t remember. My memory’s not the best.”

  “And there aren’t any photos or mementos?”

  “Like I said, Hunter didn’t want his photo taken.”

  Reznick nodded. “Now, this is really important, these two guys, they were regulars, meeting up with Hunter?”

  “They were really tight.”

  “How did you feel when they were around?”

  “The Outlaws were just assholes. These guys … they made me feel very scared. When they looked at me, I felt real uneasy.”

  “Accents?”

  “Florida backwoods kind of accent. Maybe Panhandle, but it was definitely down around here.”

  “What else? Distinguishing features?”

  Burke screwed up her face. “The taller of the two had a scar, just above his eye.”

  “Anything else? What about the other one?”

  “Tattoos on his chest too.”

  Meyerstein said, “Kathleen, we have extensive photographs of Aryan Brotherhood members, both inside and out of jail …”

  “I’d recognize them. I can’t remember their names. But I’d sure as hell remember what they looked like.”

  Reznick said, “Kathleen, thinking back all those years ago, was he ever violent to you?”

  “He grabbed me by the throat when the mood took him. Tried to throttle me. And before you ask, why did you stay with him, it’s because I’m an idiot, an addict, and I’m scared.”

  Reznick leaned closer. “You’re not an idiot. We all make choices in our lives, some better than others. One last thing. I’m trying to think back myself to the Hunter I knew. The guy I knew was aggressive, but focussed. Got the job done. But can you remember if there’s a trigger point for him. Something that sets him off.”

  “He sometimes would wake up in a cold sweat, screaming.”

  “What was he screaming for?”

  “His father. He loved his father.”

  Meyerstein interrupted. “Our records show his father died when Hunter was a boy.”

  “His father killed himself. Hunter found him hanging in the loft.”

  Half an hour later, Reznick was in the back of an SUV with Meyerstein, being driven back to the FBI’s Pensacola field office, having left a four-man team with Kathleen Burke at the safe house.

  Reznick felt wired. He wondered where the whole investigation was going.

  Meyerstein pulled out her iPad and opened an attachment to an email from FBI HQ. Two prison mugshots, side by side. She studied the pictures for a few moments before she showed Reznick. “We believe these are the two Aryan Brotherhood nuts she was talking about.”

  Reznick looked long and hard at the pictures. Hard-core prison inmates. He knew the type. “We sure?”

  “As sure as dammit. The guy on the left is Ken ‘Mad Dog’ Pearce. Certifiable. And on the right is Neil Foley. Aryan Brotherhood’s long-term. Incredibly violent. And we believe Hunter Cain’s enforcers”

  “What else?”

  “Just got a message a few moments ago from Stamper’s guys. The targets haven’t been seen in their homes for the last forty-eight hours.”

  “Their wives?”

  “Not the most cooperative, as you can imagine.”

  “Okay, so that is something. Two AB wildcards and Hunter. Something must be going down alright.”

  Meyerstein nodded.

  “What about analysis of their plans?”

  “We’re still working on it. But all analysts are agreed that these two, along with Hunter Cain, are in the early stages of an operation. Almost certainly anti-government terrorism in the McVeigh mold.”

  Reznick went quiet for a few moments.

  “It’s a breakthrough of sorts. But I’m still not happy about the methods used to get it.”

  “Yeah, well …”

  “Let’s be quite clear, Jon. My job is on the line now. The directors of the FBI and Homeland Security are circling. And I’m damned if I’m going to let them chew me up and spit me out. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you.”

  “I’m going to let it go this time. But it’s the last time.”

  Reznick stared straight ahead.

  “Are we good?”

  Reznick turned and smiled. “Damn straight.”

  Meyerstein’s cellphone rang and she groaned. “You’re killing me, you do realize that?”

  Reznick smiled.

  Meyerstein pulled her phone out of her bag. “Roy, what’s happening?” She nodded. “Sorry, bad line. On his laptop? Flash stick, okay. Get forensics to look over it and get back to me asap.” She nodded. “What kind of letter?” She listened for a few moments. “Get a full analysis.” She ended the call.

  Reznick said, “Developments?”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “What is it?”

  “Heavily encrypted files on a memory stick at Ken Pearce’s house.”

  “What else?”

  “Letter from Hunter Cain to Ken Pearce, congratulating him on the birth of his son, three months ago.”

  “What’s so interesting about that?”

  “Ken Pearce has no children. We believe it’s a letter using AB code outlining details of the operation.”

  TWELVE

  Meyerstein switched on the huge screen in the conference room at Pensacola FBI as she prepared to videoconference with the directors of the FBI and Homeland Security. She checked the briefings from her team. Hard faces stared down from the split screen. She updated them on the evolving situation.

  FBI Director O’Donoghue said, “Martha, the fallout from the Reznick escapade at the biker clubhouse is spreading. We have threats to Kathleen Burke’s mother, who in turn has to be taken to a safe house with her grandson. And we have this young woman being holed up in fear of her life, and all because of what your friend Jon Reznick did. It’s illegal, it’s outrageous, and we’re paying the price for it.”

  Raymond Sears, director of Homeland Security, cleared his throat. “Martha, Director O’Donoghue is absolutely correct. The ripples are a cause for concern. Not least because Cain and this militia are so dangerous.”

  Meyerstein glanced at her notes as she felt the sweat run down her back. “I can’t disagree w
ith either of you. What you say is transparently correct. What I would say, though, is that whilst these ripples are a cause for concern, they have inadvertently given us a possible insight into what we are facing. Namely, militia leader Hunter Cain clearly aligned with two prominent Aryan Brotherhood guys, years and years ago. And the analysis I have, and which has been sent to you and should be in front of you, is that what began as perhaps an affiliation, has deepened inside Leavenworth, so much so that a spectacular might very well be in the offing.”

  Sears stared down from the screens.

  “This would leverage the number of contacts and other assets which could be used, be they safe houses, personnel, training, funding et cetera. The escape from Leavenworth was planned with military precision. Both these AB guys were at one time in the army. Not for long. But they were there. Cain is a former Delta operator. Elite. Highly dangerous. Trained to kill. Bomb. Maim.”

  O’Donoghue said, “Martha, let’s leave that aside just now. Death threats to Kathleen Burke, and her and her family having to flee, are a direct result of Jon Reznick. Both Director Sears and myself want him off your team with immediate effect.”

  Meyerstein said nothing as she felt the eyes from the screen bear down on her.

  Sears said, “Martha, there isn’t a cat’s chance in hell that we could defend having Reznick on the team, especially now. If we let him go now, what’s done is done and we can move on.”

  Meyerstein said, “Sir, I’ve had this conversation before. And I take on board both your views. And I welcome the opportunity to discuss this role, or how we can redefine it in the future. But I do feel this is not the best moment.”

  Sears said, “Martha, he’s gotta go. And now. Otherwise …”

  “Otherwise what, sir?”

  Sears cleared his throat. “Otherwise I’ll have to step in and recommend formally to Director O’Donoghue that you should be relieved of your duties.”

  Meyerstein felt as if she had been hit hard in the guts. She felt winded. Knocked off balance.

  “Your call. But it’s got to be the right call. And just for the sake of argument, the right call is for Reznick to be removed from this investigation forthwith.”

  Meyerstein said nothing. She mulled over her response.

  O’Donoghue leaned forward. “Martha, I for one believe Jon Reznick contributed to your previous investigations. But I think this incident has proven that it’s gone too far. We can’t have such an operative working in conjunction on an investigation. The methods are different. The MO is different. Ends don’t justify means in our book. But clearly Jon Reznick has not read that memo.”

  Meyerstein’s mind was racing. She thought of her father. How he would respond. She remembered him saying that expediency is bullshit. Stand on your own feet. And if the powers-that-be don’t like it, fuck ’em. “Director O’Donoghue and Director Sears, I’d like, if I may, to clarify my position.”

  Sears and O’Donoghue shrugged.

  “Whilst the means Reznick used can’t be condoned, and I certainly wouldn’t try to, I’m not going to throw him overboard. Not now. Not ever.”

  Both men looked stunned.

  “You wanna know why?”

  “Sometimes, just sometimes, you need people like Jon Reznick in your corner. He’s in our corner, my corner right now, and I will not have his name trashed by you or anyone.”

  Sears held up his hands as if to pacify her. “Martha, it might be better if …”

  “I don’t want to hear any of it. He’s in, and that’s it. You don’t like it, then you’ll just have to fire me. Okay?”

  O’Donoghue said, “Listen to me …”

  “He stays. I don’t do walking away. Not in the middle of an investigation. That’s not the way I do things. So, if it bothers you so much, you’re going to have to either live with this or fire my ass. Am I making myself clear?”

  Sears said, “Meyerstein, you’ve crossed the line.”

  “Have I? Big deal. You come to me with complaints about process, procedures and illegality. I acknowledge aspects of this investigation aren’t ideal. But we are where we are. And I believe we are further on than we were.”

  O’Donoghue said, “Martha, we’re no further forward. Not an inch.”

  “With respect, sir, that’s not true. We have two AB nuts who had dropped off the radar at the same time as Cain escapes. How do we know this? Simply because we joined up the dots from what Kathleen Burke knew. This has been conceived inside Leavenworth. And we’ve got something to work with.”

  A silence opened up over the videoconference.

  “So, there it is. We move forward. If you don’t want me to move forward with this, you’ll have to fire me. Is that what you want?”

  O’Donoghue and Sears were both silent.

  “Very well. I’ll take that as confirmation that the investigation continues. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

  THIRTEEN

  Reznick was drinking a coffee, discussing the coded letter with gang expert Ed Forlain, when Meyerstein walked into the room. She was carrying a coffee. “Ed’s just giving me a lowdown on this AB prison code.”

  Meyerstein sipped her coffee. “Tell me more, Ed.”

  “Here’s the thing. The Aryan Brotherhood have not just got some of the nastiest bastards behind bars, highly violent individuals who account for twenty-five percent of all the murders in American penitentiaries, despite only amounting to three percent of the prison population. What’s also disturbing about them is the level of sophistication.”

  Reznick said, “Ed, tell Assistant Director Meyerstein what you just told me.”

  “The language they’ve used in this letter, found at one of their houses, is classic AB. But it’s couched in code. Let me read direct from it.” Forlain turned and looked at his screen. I am a father at last. It’s a boy. My wife gave birth to a strapping eight pound seven ounce baby boy.

  Reznick said, “Seems pretty innocuous on the surface.”

  Forlain smiled. “That’s the whole point, Jon. Firstly, let’s break it down. It’s a boy is their way of saying they have official authorization to launch a war. If they didn’t have that authorization, the message would be It’s a girl.”

  Reznick said, “This was sent from California. This is from the AB leadership in California?”

  “Almost certainly. Here’s a very, very interesting aspect. I’ve only had half an hour to look at this, but I think we’ve got something. The reference to the weight of the baby is very important.”

  “How?”

  “There are three separate quantities.”

  “So what are they?”

  “The word ‘a’ before boy refers to the number 1. Then ‘8’ and ‘7’. Separately they mean nothing. But use some lateral thinking, a knowledge of the law, and you can conceal the real message. It’s referring to California Penal Code 187, and the crime of murder.”

  Reznick said, “So this is, in your opinion, one hundred percent, the authorization from the Aryan Brotherhood to go ahead with a murder?”

  “No question.”

  Meyerstein said nothing for a few moments.

  Reznick said, “Okay, we now have concrete proof of this guy’s involvement, the authorization from the AB. The question that still needs to be answered is, what’s the target and where’s the destination?”

  Meyerstein finished the rest of her coffee and stared at the screen. “There’s obviously a common thread that has brought the AB and this militia together. Ideology? Is there a target they can both agree on?”

  Reznick said, “Ed, you know about gangs, especially this one. What are their trigger points?”

  “Blacks. Authority. Government.”

  “And the militia, their major problem is what?”

  Meyerstein said, “The government. Big business. Remember McVeigh took out the FBI in Oklahoma. The Federal Building. Could we be talking about the same thing?”

  Reznick said, �
��What’s the latest analysis showing?”

  Meyerstein said, “I’m hooking up with a joint terrorism taskforce in DC who are analyzing this. Hopefully someone can give me an answer, or we have a developing problem on our hands.”

  FOURTEEN

  Kathleen Burke dragged hard on a cigarette in the living room of the FBI safe house, daytime TV on with the sound off. She turned and looked across at one of the special agents guarding her. “I don’t like it here.”

  Agent Limez said, “Why not? No one knows you’re here. You’ve got everything you need.”

  Burke shook her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t like it. Feels like I’m going out of my mind.”

  Limez said, “Have you had your methadone, Kathleen? Maybe that would help.”

  “I’ve had my fucking methadone, thank you. And I still feel like I’m crawling the walls. I can’t bear it. Feel like I’m trapped.” She dragged heavily on her cigarette again. “The curtains and blinds are all drawn. I want to be outside in the sun.”

  Limez said, “Kathleen, we’ve got to be focussed here. We can’t have you out and about at this time.”

  Burke leaned over and crushed out the cigarette in a glass ashtray. “So when can I get out? I can’t stay here forever, can I?”

  Limez said nothing.

  “And don’t fucking stare at me like that.”

  “Kathleen, I’m not staring at you. You need to calm down.”

  Burke felt helpless and out of control. “No, I won’t fucking calm down. I want to get out and into the sunshine. Is that asking too much?”

  Limez sighed and looked at her long and hard. He then pulled out his cellphone from his jacket pocket and punched in a number. “Ma’am, sorry to bother you … but Ms Burke is insisting she leaves the premises.” He nodded. “Yes, I explained that.” He handed the cellphone to Burke. “Assistant Director Meyerstein wants to talk to you.”

  Burke took the phone. “Yeah, I’m going crazy here.”

  Meyerstein said, “Listen to me, Kathleen, you’re safe there. It’s important that you stay on the premises and keep out of sight till this dies down.”

  “And when the hell will that be?”

  “I don’t know is the honest answer.”