by Isabel Jolie
Over the weekend, surveillance picked up phone conversations that implicate Elijah Mason, known simply as EJ, and Joseph McGurn. Joe is someone who’s been on our home terrorism and mafia watch lists for some time. He didn’t attend Stanford, and he doesn’t seem to be in that clique of friends, but he piqued the team’s interest when he went to a strip club with Chase. His only clear connection to this crew was Biohazard Waste Disposal’s use of BB&E as an accounting firm. South Fork Research is also a client. But after we picked up phone conversations between him and Cooper Grayson from the real estate development firm, it’s clear there’s a deeper connection.
We’re preparing to deliver indictments Wednesday or Thursday of this week to Senator McLoughlin, Cooper Grayson, John Fischer, and Eileen Becker. A sitting senator and CEOs from two of Chicago’s most esteemed corporations. The team is now hoping when we bring them in, we’ll get more evidence against Elijah Mason and Joseph McGurn, bringing down two more companies, and hopefully stockpiling testimony against the senator.
We have surveillance ready to go in Chicago. We know Chase can provide us with all the evidence we need to prosecute Garrick Carlson, but we don’t have a great amount of evidence against Tom Bennett or Evan Mitchell. They’ve been careful in conversations both on the phone and in the office. One could argue they’ve been too careful. The conversation in the diner with Chase felt planned.
One thing we do know, all those conversations they said happened with legal and PR didn’t happen in the office. It’s not enough to indict, but it’s enough to indicate they may be doing what they can to buy time and keep Chase Maitlin quiet.
When I joined this team and agreed to UC, I thought I was homing in on white-collar crime. Penalties to the criminals caught would be minimum security prison or fines.
In the last few weeks, Operation Quagmire has exploded. It now involves members from the SEC, homeland security, the financial action task force, and organized crime in addition to public corruption, where it all started. Hopkins was right. This has become a career case.
That alone would be enough to give a UC rookie like me a case of nerves. But trainee nerves aren’t why I’m nervous. Hopkins updated me on everything the team learned over the weekend this morning, and we listened to some of the audio picked up in the diner breakfast meeting.
I suspect they are stalling to keep Chase quiet on what he’s found. But why? Are they planning to set him up to make him look like the guilty party? Did Tad really die in a drunk driving accident, or was he the first employee to stumble on to what’s going on? It’s a stretch, but if it’s true, could they be buying time to arrange for Chase to have his own accident? If Joe McGurn is involved, then that means they have ties to the Chicago mafia. And that’s the way the wealthy would commit a murder. Hire the hit. Make it look like an accident. Be absolutely certain the crime can’t get traced to the source.
Garrick Carlson hasn’t been into the office seen since Chase Maitlin let him know he’d discovered something wrong. His car is still in the parking garage. He could be holed up in his apartment, or he could have ordered a car service out of Manhattan. If he’s on the run, a hired car would be smarter than driving his own car with a traceable license plate through the bevy of tolls one must pass through to get out of the city and out of the state. Or it’s possible he’s already been eliminated.
Hopkins doesn’t think that’s the case, though. He believes he’s laying low to avoid being brought in for questioning. He suspects they’re all buying time to lay a trap to make Chase Maitlin the patsy. He’s probably right, and I’m overthinking all of this. The simplest explanation is usually the most likely.
“Got it.” Hopkins studies me, staring me up and down as he speaks into his phone. “She can go back to the office after Bennett and Michell leave for the airport.” There’s a pause. “She’ll be armed.”
Hopkins hangs up and sets the phone down. He turns his chair so he’s facing me and takes on an interrogation pose.
“Walters wants you in BB&E’s office until we distribute indictments. You’re to keep an eye out for anyone looking worried or acting unusual. You said your office is near Chase Maitlin’s, right?”
“Yes. It’s just down the hall from his. Are we going to bring him in and tell him what’s going on?”
“Indictments go out Wednesday morning. Walters wants you to bring him in to FBI offices early that morning. We’ll read him in, and that’s when we’ll interview him and let him know he’ll be one of our witnesses. Walters doesn’t want to risk anything getting in the way of his indictment against McLoughlin.”
“Why not indict him today?”
“He wants to wait and see what happens in Chicago with Bennett and Michell. Right now, the heat’s on. He wants to see who they go to and if they make some mistakes.” It’s an opportunity to gather more evidence. Once the indictments go out, any undiscovered guilty parties run a significant chance of remaining undiscovered.
“What about Maitlin’s safety?”
“That’s another reason to keep you UC. You can keep an eye out for anything unusual. We’re going to put a detail outside his apartment at night.” That’s good. It seems far more likely they’d try something when he’s outside or in his apartment at night, as opposed to in a corporate office building.
Hopkins chews on the corner of his lower lip and narrows his eyes. “You and Maitlin. Anything I need to know?”
He’s not a suspect. Not now. And even if he was, I wouldn’t be the first agent to have sexual relations with a suspect while undercover. That’s what I’ve been telling myself. I also have no desire to come clean to Hopkins, or to a team of over forty agents, but surveillance is so heavy at this point. I’ll need to wear a gun and have my wire on. If I stay on two more days, there’s a good chance Chase will say something that will make it clear something happened between us.
“Things between us escalated over the weekend,” I admit. “But not until after we determined he’s innocent. And not until after I thought I’d be off the case once I returned.” My stomach curls, but I force myself to face Hopkins head on. It feels like he’s my supervisor, or my judge and jury, even though he’s not. He’s a teammate.
“Are you planning on seeing him after this operation concludes?”
“I wasn’t.” I shift in the hot seat and swallow. I don’t even know if he’ll want to see me this week. More than that, I don’t know if he’ll want to see me once he learns the truth. “Would it be frowned upon?”
He exhales loud enough for me to hear him. “My job is to keep you safe while you’re undercover. Not to provide career counseling.”
I stare at his polished black shoes.
“Look, I expected something might happen between the two of you.”
“You did?”
He shrugs. “It happens. You’ve been playing a role, pretending to be someone else, and getting close to him. Doing your job. After weeks of getting to know him, you went away with him for a weekend. You won’t be the first person to get close to someone during an operation. What I need to know is, can you do your job for the next forty-eight hours? The accounting piece, it’s not sexy, but—”
“It’s how we prosecute the criminals.” Everyone knows this. “I can be the eyes and ears in the office. It won’t be a problem.”
“It’s important that you not share anything with Chase until you have the go-ahead. I don’t need to remind you that you don’t know how he’ll take the information. He could say or do something that would endanger this case.”
“I understand. My number one priority is this case. My job. FBI first.”
His bottom lip sticks out, and his head jerks up and down twice, then he straightens in his chair.
“Keep your eyes open. It’s crunch time.”
“Will do.” I bend to pick up my briefcase, the one I’ve been carrying into BB&E. The one I hadn’t expected to use again, as I expected to be out of the role as of this morning. “One more thing. Chase invited me to
a club Tuesday night. It’s a DJ or band, something he got tickets to through work. He’s invited several friends to go with us.”
Hopkins lifts his pen and scribbles in his notebook. “Which friends?” he asks without glancing up.
“Jackson and Anna, Sam, and Olivia. Also Delilah and Mason, but they’ve already said no. They have a daughter.”
“No one from work?”
“I don’t think so. He asked Rhonda, his assistant, but she laughed and told him he knew better than to ask her to go out on a school night.”
He taps his pen on the paper and studies it the way he was studying me earlier.
“Is Jackson the lawyer?”
“Yes.” He has profiles on every person listed, but at this point, we have profiles on hundreds of people from different corporations related to this case.
“You think he’s the lawyer Chase went to?”
“Would make sense. He’s an old friend. Unless he has a lawyer on retainer for his other businesses.”
“See if you can get Chase to tell you more. I’d like to know who all he’s shared his findings with.”
“If we brought him in today, you’d get that info.”
“Decision’s been made. We’re not bringing Maitlin into an FBI building until those indictments are out.”
“I could talk to him in his office.”
“We might not be the only ones tapping his office. You know that.”
“I could tell him in my apartment. No one’s tapping my FBI apartment, other than the FBI.”
He scratches his head. “I’ll run it by the team. Unless you hear otherwise from me, he’s not to be read in.”
“Got it.”
My phone vibrates on the table, and the screen lights up.
Chase: This isn’t you freaking out, is it?
Hopkins points at my phone. “You better get back in the office. Someone’s wondering if you’re getting emotional.”
I check the time. “Bennett and Mitchell won’t be leaving for Chicago for a few more hours.”
“I don’t expect either of them to aim to cross paths with you before they go.”
He’s right. Mitchell knows I’m FBI. If he’s guilty like we suspect, he’s going to continue to play his cards to look as innocent as possible, knowing full well the FBI is investigating his firm. He doesn’t have any idea of the extent of this operation, or what we’re really investigating, and that’s the one reason we’re optimistic he might lead us to additional evidence when he’s in Chicago. That and the fact mistakes are often made when the pressure is on.
My hand shakes as I reach for the doorknob, and I glance back quickly to see if Hopkins noticed. He’s staring at his laptop. I’ve got to get it under control. My portion of this case is still a simple job. Now I’m looking out for suspicious behavior, and if any one were to decide to come after Chase, I’d be there. But that’s highly unlikely.
If I hadn’t allowed myself more with Chase, I probably wouldn’t be thinking twice about this assignment. And that’s the rub. I feel like a girl who had a good weekend with a guy and doesn’t know for sure if he’s going to call her again. It’s the butterfly effect of not knowing that I’ve never liked. It was one of the things I liked about Aaron. I wasn’t that into him, so I never had to deal with these nauseating nerves.
Chase is texting me. He’s asked me out on a date. Rationally, I have no reason to suspect he doesn’t want to keep seeing me. But will he once he knows I’ve lied about so much?
When I return to the office, Chase’s door is closed, as are the blinds to his window. Abnormal behavior for the office social coordinator.
“There you are.” Rhonda pops up from her seat at her cubicle, and I jump back in surprise. She laughs. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Chase must’ve asked me half a dozen times if you were back yet.”
I nod and continue down the hall. She wants to ask me about this weekend, I can tell, and I am not ready to talk to her. She falls in step behind me. Chase and I did not coordinate our cover story, something I didn’t think about because I didn’t expect I’d be here.
She stands in my doorway, angled so she can see down the hall and into my office.
“Chase said he had a good time this weekend,” she prompts with a grin.
I flip open my laptop and turn it on.
“I did, too.”
“He’s going to be upset he missed you.”
I look up from the lights on my screen as it boots up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he had me going to find out if you called in sick or what happened. I had to go up to HR and use my—”
“No, I mean, what do you mean by missed me? Is he gone for the day?”
“Yes, he has meetings outside the office for the rest of the day.”
That’s not unusual for Chase.
“Golf?” I ask. It’s Monday, so golf might not be the best guess since a lot of courses are closed on Monday.
“Business meetings.” I can’t tell if she’s covering for him right now or if he really does have meetings outside of the office. “But I’m gonna text him and let him know you’re back. He was concerned. Is everything okay?” She adds the last part in a rush, as if it just occurred to her she should ask.
“Everything’s fine. I had an annual check-up.”
“I knew it was something like that. Well, it should be quiet for the rest of this week. Lots of people are out of the office.”
Interesting.
“I guess Garrick is still sick?”
She nods. “Yes, it sounds like it’s the worst. Tested negative for the flu but it sure sounds like the flu to me. He’s gone into pneumonia.”
“You’ve spoken to him?”
“Oh, yes. He calls in every morning. Sounds so sick.”
I nod, taking this information in. So much for my elimination theory. I really am getting too nervous, too on edge. Too emotional.
The sound of a phone ringing echoes down the hall, and with a wave, she’s off to answer it.
I pull out my personal phone and send a quick text to Hopkins, alerting him that Rhonda has been speaking with Garrick each morning. Evidence of life. I also text Chase.
Sydney: I’m back in the office. Where are you?
Within minutes, three dots appear.
Chase: Meetings. See you tomorrow?
Sydney: Y
Then I text Hopkins to update him. Chase is out of the office at an unknown location. I don’t like it, but worry is unproductive. I have a job to do. I take a notepad and walk through all the floors except the executive floor, making a note of every employee not in the office, or cubicle, today. The information doesn’t mean anything, but if we need to weed through potentially guilty BB&E employees, it might be useful information. I can do it tomorrow, too.
The hum of activity on every floor bears distinct normalcy. It’s quiet, but not empty quiet. Phones ring, people talk, keyboards click as people type. Every now and then copying machines or printers add to the office symphony. I don’t see anyone bent over on a phone, whispering. No one pays any attention to me at all as I roam the corridors. One receptionist on the eighth floor pauses and opens her mouth, presumably to ask if I need help, but closes it and returns to her computer screen when she sees the ID badge hanging around my neck.
When I return to my office, I get lost roaming through reports on the portal. What I’d love to see is personal email, but supposedly BB&E email is not monitored, and HR doesn’t have a way to easily allow me access. It’s fine. Once indictments are out, we’ll get a subpoena.
The hours fly by, and the sounds of the end of day exodus commence. “Have a good night” and “See you tomorrow” ring through the hall.
Chase never came back to the office. I went to the gym and spent two and a half hours there, hanging out, keeping an eye on the weight room, doing stretches and spending time on the treadmill and Stairmaster, trying to not look conspicuous.
I’m curious about where Chase is and what could pos
sibly keep him from the gym, but I don’t want to seem like a nagging girlfriend and text him too much. After all, I got busted following him. I need to play this cool. And the reality is if we were dating for real, I just saw him yesterday and have a date with him tomorrow. It’s not like we have to see each other every day. And if it were real—and judging by my nerves, whether I want it to be real or not, my mind thinks it’s real—not seeing him or knowing where he is is normal. And I need to be okay with that. I shouldn’t be nervous not knowing where he is.
We don’t have a tail on him, so the team won’t know where he went either. And that’s okay. I’m sure he’s fine. Garrick hasn’t been eliminated.
We had expected he’d be in the office and I’d be the one keeping track of him. Night detail is planned. As a precaution. Only a precaution. If the team felt he was in danger, he wouldn’t even be walking the streets. We’d put him in protective custody. No one believes he’s in danger. If he doesn’t come home, Hopkins will notify me.
I turn the corner on King Street, lost on my runaway thought train, and stop. Sitting on the stoop to my apartment, oblivious to his surroundings, engrossed in his phone, is none other than Chase Maitlin.
Twenty-Three
Chase
A running shoe kicks against mine, snapping me out of the email vacuum. Sydney stands before me, post-gym, hair pulled back into that tight little tail, tight black leggings, a jog bra, and a drapey sweater that covers her arms and back but leaves her flat midriff exposed. Christ, she walked home from the gym looking like this?
I jump to my feet, and my thighs and butt cheeks tingle from sitting on concrete steps for so long. I shake each leg vigorously, one at a time.
“What’re you doing?” she shrieks.
“My legs fell asleep.” I move to the side to let her by, hoping she’ll calm down if I get out of her way.
“No, what are you doing here?”
