Unfortunately, they were encountering a number of obstacles. Some parades were issued a single permit that covered the entire event. Other cities authorized individual permits, but were more than happy to include any float that showed up at the staging area. And the organizers rarely knew where the floats were arriving from; they were constructed everywhere from people’s driveways to the streets on the morning of the Fourth. It was a mess.
“They’d probably be a lot more cooperative if we told them why we needed to know,” Kelly pointed out.
“What, and start mass panic?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to tell people to steer clear of the parades tomorrow,” Kelly said.
“We tell people to skip the parades, they’re going to want to know why,” Leonard argued. “You’re basically suggesting we tell every city in the country to cancel Independence Day.”
“Why not, if it saves some lives?”
“Because it won’t make a difference. If the bombers get wind of the fact that we’ve figured out their plan, they could drive into a populated area and detonate this afternoon. Our best chance is not to let them know we’re on to them.”
“I don’t think we’re making much progress,” Kelly said.
“Look, Agent Jones.” Leonard glared at her. “We’ve got agents on the ground tracking down as many floats as they can find, in addition to driving around every major city with radiation detectors. We’ve called in the National Guard and every law enforcement officer available. Tomorrow they’ll be reporting to staging areas at dawn, checking each entry. We’ve spent a long time preparing for something like this. We’ve got it covered.”
Kelly couldn’t help saying, “Like you had Katrina covered?”
Leonard’s voice was edged with irritation. “We’re not FEMA, Jones, and this isn’t the first major bomb plot we’ve encountered since 9/11. We’ve dealt with this scenario before, and prevented it from happening. And remember, you’re free to leave at any point.”
Kelly set her jaw. Leonard had adopted a tone she hated, the old, you don’t know what you’re talking about, useless female voice. It triggered something in her memory. “Where’s Burke right now?”
“He’s still in D.C. But we’ve been told to steer clear of him for now. Legal is sorting through the paper trail between him and the shell companies. If they come up with a definitive link, they’ll arrest him. Until then, he’s officially not a suspect.”
“ Phoenix,” Kelly said suddenly, eyes widening.
“What about it?” Leonard had turned back to his files.
“It’s one of the targets. Has to be.” She could have kicked herself for not thinking of it earlier. If Burke planned on using the attack as a springboard to jettison himself to the next level of political power, he’d need a valid source of righteous indignation. And if an attack happened in his district, he’d be poised to take full advantage when disaster struck.
“You think he’d take out his own constituents?” She had Leonard’s full attention. His shaggy brows knit together.
“Getting back to Hurricane Katrina,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes, but kept listening. “Could anyone outside the state have named the mayor of New Orleans or the governor of Louisiana before? And suddenly they were all over the news. That’s what Burke wants, to develop a following for his pet cause. And if one of the main targets was his home base…”
“He’d have that in spades,” Leonard said slowly. As he lifted the phone receiver, he pointed a finger at her. “Mind you, this doesn’t mean we’re saying he’s connected.”
“Of course not.” Kelly shrugged. “Maybe we got an anonymous tip.”
Leonard grinned as he dialed the Phoenix field office. “For a pain in the ass, you come in useful sometimes, Agent Jones.”
Syd waited by the curb. Less than a minute after she rolled her bag into the taxi zone, a large black Suburban pulled up, Maltz at the wheel. She threw her bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Thanks for coming down here.”
Maltz shrugged. “You’re the boss. Jagerson is still recovering, so I’ve got Fribush and Kane with me.”
Syd glanced back at them. She’d worked with Fribush before. She didn’t know anything about Kane but he looked capable enough. Aside from slight variations in height and hair color, Special Ops guys were basically replicants: same body type, same square jaw, same army/navy surplus attire.
“Kane’s local,” Maltz said. “He thinks most of the floats are assembled in the warehouse district south of town. Figured we’d start there.”
“Sounds good,” Syd said, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. She’d been trained to go for a week straight with less than an hour of sleep a day. Consequently, she could drop off nearly anywhere, at anytime. She’d passed out at takeoff and woke up as the wheels touched ground, but still felt groggy. Just because she could do it didn’t mean she enjoyed it.
“How are the Grants?” Maltz asked.
My, he was chatty today, Syd thought, surprised. “I have no idea,” she said. She didn’t. In fact she’d completely forgotten about them when the FBI made it clear her services were no longer required. And now, with Randall dead, that connection had been broken. “Why do you want to know?”
Maltz shrugged. It was hard to tell with his perpetual ruddiness, but she could swear he was blushing. “They seemed like nice girls. Nice family,” he said
“I guess,” Syd said dubiously, thinking of Audrey. Nice wasn’t the first word that came to mind, but then she hadn’t spent much time with them. Maybe they were nice people to flee through the countryside with. Anything was possible, she supposed.
“You got everything?”
“Most of it,” Maltz replied. “Kane’s got a good base of supplies.”
“Good,” Syd said, relaxing back in her seat. As she watched the passing landscape she ran through possible strategies and scenarios in her mind. The desert sun outside the window burned hot, reminiscent of the countless other sand-blown cities she’d driven through over the years. This one was notably less exotic, however: Phoenix, Arizona.
She was surprised Phoenix hadn’t occurred to the others. It hit her the minute Burke’s name was mentioned. Of course he’d target his hometown-it was the natural choice. In the trailer she’d waited for it to dawn on the Feds. Obviously they didn’t have as much experience with warlords and ambitious generals, since they kept droning on about warehouses and driving radiuses. She’d almost told them, but after the brush-off they’d given her, decided against it. She knew how to stop one of the attacks. And perversely, she decided to help. Hard to say whether this was a knee jerk reaction to being told she was useless, or something else. Maybe it was because as an operative, she’d frequently been forced to stand by and do nothing while all sorts of terrible things happened, since there were “bigger issues at stake.” She’d always hated that expression, it usually meant a slew of innocents were about to draw their last breath and no one really gave a shit.
So here she was, then. Syd Clement, former spook, on a mission to save Phoenix from becoming even more of a barren hellscape than it already was.
“I’ll go in first,” she said, turning to Maltz. “Check each one out. If I need you, I’ll give the signal to move in.”
“You sure? We could split up, it would go faster.”
“If you got what I asked for, this shouldn’t take long at all,” she said, glancing at her watch. Nearly 3:30 p.m. Syd closed her eyes and said, “Wake me when we’re close.”
Thirty-Three
“Bingo,” Rodriguez said.
“You got something?” Jake crossed the room and leaned over his shoulder. There was an image on his computer screen.
“That’s Burke, you moron,” George said.
“No shit, Sherlock. But check out who’s behind him,” Rodriguez retorted.
It was a society picture from a formal event. Burke had his arm around someone identified as a prominent
lobbyist, who apparently was no stranger to Botox. And in the background, on the edge of the frame, was a hulking beast of a man. It was hard to tell from the angle, but…Jake compared it with Dante’s mug shot. It was him all right. Square head like a pit bull, shaven bald, looking wildly uncomfortable in a suit a size too small. “When was this taken?” he asked.
“A year ago, at a GOP fund-raiser.”
“Any idea what Dante was doing there?”
“I say we call this lobbyist and ask.”
“We could fax this over to his office, let his secretary have a gander…”
“For all we know Dante is his secretary. And the higher-ups don’t want Burke to get a whiff of this yet.” Jake looked at them. “Do we run this by Leonard?”
“Fuck Leonard,” Rodriguez said forcefully. “Great thing about lobbyists is that they love getting calls, day and night.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Rodriguez.” Jake cracked a smile. “Sorry, George, I have a new favorite agent.”
“I’m all torn up about it.” George rolled his eyes. “Please, promise me you’ll tread carefully. I’m not cut out for the private sector.”
It took all of ten minutes to track down the office number for the lobbyist in the photo, and another five to convince a beleaguered staffer that they needed to speak with him immediately. After outlining what the administration thought of lobbyists who didn’t help the FBI in matters of national security, and how that reflected on pork barrel spending for their clients, a cell phone number was produced.
“Who wants to make the call?” Rodriguez asked, holding up the receiver.
“Dibs.” George put it on speakerphone. The lobbyist answered on the third ring. From the sound of things, there was a full-scale party going on in the background.
“Hello, Mr. Jeffers, this is Special Agent George Fong calling from the FBI. Your name came up in the course of an investigation, and I was wondering if you could help us out.”
“What? My name?” Jeffers voice veered quickly from alarm to a practiced honeyed tone. “I’m sure there must be some mistake. Let me give you the number for my attorney-”
“The investigation actually involves a third party, sir. All we need is for you to identify a man in a photo.”
A long pause. “Well, I suppose that would be-”
“We’d really appreciate the help, Mr. Jeffers. I’m sending it to your phone right now.”
Rodriguez sent the photo, and they waited. Jeffers maintained a running monologue, most of which revolved around damn cell phones and how tricky they were to operate. Rodriguez rolled his eyes, and Jake made a motion for him not to laugh. “Ah, this…this is Jack Burke,” Jeffers finally said. “Just became a senator, you know, after that tragedy with-”
“Right, we know. I’d actually like you to identify the man standing behind Mr. Burke on his left.”
“Oh, all right.” Jeffers sounded inordinately relieved that the investigation didn’t involve a new senator whom he probably had high hopes for. “That guy. I can’t remember his name, he’s just Jack’s bodyguard,” he said dismissively.
“I didn’t realize Mr. Burke needed a bodyguard,” George said carefully.
“Oh, well, I’m sure he doesn’t. My wife and I assumed it was one of Jack’s eccentricities, he’s quite a character. He took him to a few events. You’re right, though. As I always say, you only get mugged at those parties by people like me.” He laughed heartily.
“Thanks for your time, Mr. Jeffers. And if you’d please keep this conversation private for the moment-”
“Oh, absolutely, absolutely.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have to say, I’m not surprised to hear the bodyguard’s in trouble. He seemed…rough around the edges, if you know what I mean. I was surprised Jack hired him, he usually has excellent taste in people.”
“Clearly,” George said, before hanging up.
“Nicely done.” Jake clapped George on the shoulder.
“Bodyguard, huh?” Rodriguez said. “Wonder if that means he was on the official payroll.”
“If he was, it’s under a different name,” George said. “I went through all the records, there’s no Dante listed anywhere, not even under the shell companies.”
“So is it enough to take to Leonard?” Rodriguez asked. “It’s a link, but if they’re not willing to smear Burke, maybe they won’t use this, either.”
“Something tells me they won’t have any reservations about throwing someone like Dante under the bus,” Jake scoffed.
“Even if it tips off Burke?”
“Screw Burke. At this point, he should know we’re breathing down his neck. I say we make sure they plaster Dante Parrish’s face across the networks,” Jake said forcefully. The two agents exchanged a glance. “What?” he demanded.
“It’s just…at this point, we should let the Bureau decide how they want to manage things,” Rodriguez said, looking uncomfortable.
“Rodriguez is right, Jake. They might want to keep the search for Dante on the down low. If Burke gets backed into a corner, he might detonate early.”
“Et tu, George?” Jake said.
George shrugged. “I got a job to keep, man. And nobody wants those bombs going off.”
“All right, fine,” Jake said, defeated. “Let’s head over to the big people’s trailer.”
Kelly opened the door of the trailer and was startled to find Jake poised to knock, with George and Rodriguez behind him.
“Hi,” he said. “How’s it going over here?”
“All right, I guess,” she said cautiously. “Did the truck search turn anything up?”
“Um, we decided to go in a different direction.”
“Jake…”
“Trust me, you’re going to like what we have to say.” He glanced past her shoulder, where Leonard was tucking his computer into a case. “Going somewhere?”
“Phoenix, actually. We figure since it’s Burke’s district-”
“Oh my God,” George interrupted. “You’re right, it’s the perfect target. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”
Rodriguez groaned at the mention of Phoenix.
Jake gave Kelly a hard look. “Let me guess-invited guests only. And we’re not on the list.”
Kelly shifted uncomfortably at the hurt in his voice. “You said you had something?”
“Can we come in?”
Leonard muttered something under his breath, then waved them in impatiently. “What is it?”
“Wow. You really weren’t expecting us to come up with anything, were you?” Jake grinned. “Nice to be appreciated.”
“Cut the shit, Riley. I don’t have time for it. Our plane takes off in a half hour. If you’ve got something, spit it out.”
Jake glared at him. Kelly half expected him to storm out of the trailer. But after a long second, he handed over a stack of photos, saying, “Your printer sucks, by the way. That’s the best resolution I could get.”
“Who the hell is this?” Leonard asked, holding up the top picture.
Kelly examined it: a mug shot of a skinhead. He didn’t look like any of the guys she’d arrested in Arizona, but it was hard to be sure.
“Dante Parrish,” Jake said. “Burke’s bodyguard.”
“And I care about this why?” Leonard demanded.
“Because we’re pretty sure he was involved in the kidnapping of the Grant girl. And now it turns out he’s linked to Burke.” Jake shrugged. “But hey, if we’re bothering you, we’ll head back to the kids’ table.”
“It makes sense,” Kelly said slowly. “To get the Aryan Brotherhood on board, Burke would need someone to bridge the gap. He wouldn’t have been able to make those connections on his own.”
“I’m willing to bet if you look, you’ll find photos of Burke with someone involved with the Minutemen, too,” Jake said, jabbing the photo with one finger, “and probably some biker gang. But right now, we got this guy.”
Leonard flipped through
the stack, settling on the one with Burke in the foreground. “Okay,” he said finally. “It’s something. I’ll put it out on the wire.”
“That’s it?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, that’s it. Now, I’ve got a plane to catch.” He turned to Kelly. “You coming, Agent Jones?”
“One minute.”
“Fine. But any longer and we leave without you.”
Leonard glowered at Jake as he pushed past. Kelly saw Jake’s jaw go rigid and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“I know that look.”
“He would’ve deserved it.” Jake grinned, but his eyes remained serious. “And I don’t love that you’re flying into a city with a bull’s-eye painted on it.”
“That’s why I was going to call you from the plane,” Kelly said, but at his expression she backtracked. “That was a joke. A bad one.”
“You should know better. Jokes aren’t your thing.”
“Apparently,” she agreed, running her hand up to his shoulder. George and Rodriguez moved a few feet back to give them some privacy. “Leonard isn’t much of an outside-the-box thinker. And I want to stop at least one of these attacks if I can. If we catch whoever is in charge in Phoenix, they might know where the other bombs are.”
“They won’t.” Jake shook his head. “Classic cell structure. There probably aren’t many people who know the whole plan. And only a few will be able to connect it back to Burke. He’s had a long time to plan this.”
“Still, I’ve got to try.”
“This is a hell of a last case,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
“Tell me about it.”
Without warning he pulled her in tight to his chest. “I love you, Kelly. Don’t get hurt,” he whispered fiercely into her hair before letting go.
“I love you, too,” she said, managing a weak smile before trotting to the waiting SUV.
The Gatekeeper Page 27
