by Robin Mahle
“Aaron’s a good man, though. He’s helped the kids and me a lot. They’ve started calling him Uncle Aaron.” She laughed.
“Uncle Aaron, huh? And what do they call me?”
Uh, well, I—um.”
“Never mind.” Will turned his attention to the passing landscape outside his window. “Maybe I should come by more often so they can get to know me too.”
“I’m sure they’d love that.” Lacy turned left into the parking lot and pulled into a space near the front. “This is it.”
“Did you happen to call Scott and let him know we were coming?” Will opened the passenger door.
“I did not. But he’ll be here. It’s not a Friday afternoon. Then we’d stand no chance. He enjoys a game of golf on Fridays and usually takes the sales staff with him.”
“Sounds like a good guy.”
“He is.” Lacy stepped out of the car and pulled on her coat.
They entered through the glass doors and approached the front desk.
“Lacy Merrick? What on earth are you doing here?” said the woman who sat behind the reception desk.
“I’m here to see Scott Voss. Do you know if he’s in?”
“I believe he is, but I’ll call up to him. Wow, it’s really good to see you. I hope you’re doing well—after everything.”
“Thanks, Nora. I am. And it’s good to see you too.”
“Hi, Lacy Merrick is here to see you, if you have a minute.” Nora paused. “I’ll send her right up.” She replaced the receiver and smiled at Lacy. “Go ahead on up. You remember where his office is at?”
“I sure do. Thank you.” She nodded for Will to follow.
“She seems very fond of you,” Will said.
Lacy pressed the elevator button. “She’s a good kid. Bright. Much too bright to still be answering the phones. I’ll have to mention that to Scott.”
Scott Voss was already on his feet with open arms on their arrival. “Lacy. It is so good to see you. How are you?”
“Doing well, Scott. Thank you.” She pulled from the embrace. “This is Special Agent Will Caison.”
“Oh. This is an official visit, then?” He returned to his desk. “Please, why don’t you both have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Lacy began, “Sorry to arrive unannounced, but I was hoping you could help me with something.”
“Of course. Anything. You know that.”
Lacy pulled out a file folder from her carrier bag and retrieved the photos. “Do you know who this man is?” She placed the images on his desk and pushed them forward.
Scott held one of them in his hands and examined it. With a furrowed brow, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Should I?”
“2015-ish. Company Christmas party, I think. We were here at the office and you invited some of the bigger clients.”
He studied the picture again, seeming to concentrate a little harder.
“I don’t know who he worked for at the time,” Lacy continued, “but I remember him there. I just need your help placing him. The company. His name.”
“2015 Christmas party,” Scott said under his breath. “One of our clients.” He continued listing parameters in an attempt to recall the man’s name. “Hang on a second. He was Bruce’s client. That’s right. But Bruce isn’t here anymore.” Scott looked at Lacy. “We lost quite a bit of business after that whole Nova thing.”
“I’m sure,” Lacy replied.
“So, who is this guy to you?”
“Just something we’re working on. Any other thoughts?” This time, Will chimed in.
“Yeah.” Scott nodded. “That’s right. I remember him now.” He turned toward his computer and began typing. “He was with a company called…. Damn, I can’t recall off the top of my head… Wait, here it is. “Synergy Dynamics.” He faced them again. “His name is Matthew Greiner. And he was Bruce’s client.”
“What did he do for them, this Synergy Dynamics?” Lacy asked.
“Couldn’t tell you. I do know that they were contracted to do work for the government and I only recall that because of the amount of paperwork we had to file in order to become an approved subcontractor.”
Anything else you can tell us?” Will added.
“Not really. I didn’t have much to do with him. Although I do remember him being at that Christmas party now. In fact, if I recall correctly, he’d hit on a few of the staff and I got an earful about it.”
Lacy smiled. “Yeah. That’s pretty much what I remember about him.” She began to rise. “Thank you so much, Scott. I can’t tell you what a help this is.”
“Listen, can I take you two out to lunch or something? I’d love to catch up.”
“We appreciate the offer,” Lacy began, “but we have a packed schedule today. I’ll tell you what, though. I’ll shoot you an email with some dates and we’ll get something on the calendar.”
“I’d like that, Lacy. I really would.”
“Me too. Thanks again, Scott.”
“Anytime.”
Chapter 3
On the balcony of his high-rise apartment, CIA Agent Caleb Shaw peered out over the bustling streets of Beijing. He pressed his cigarette into the ashtray that rested on a table and walked back inside. “Air’s getting pretty thick out there. Might have to break out the masks before too long.” He walked toward the kitchen. “Want a beer?”
“Thanks,” CIA Agent Brent Maddox replied.
Shaw returned and offered the beer. “What happened over there?”
“Something’s going on.” Maddox tossed back a swig. “I don’t like it. Whatever it is. This shit assignment is throwing me off my game. You know I don’t like playing with this kind of fire.”
“Yeah. I know, man. Your job is to grow the network here. Keep your eyes on the up and coming hackers and work them. But we got lucky. You found her.”
“Luck doesn’t play into it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I drew the short stick on this deal.”
Shaw laughed. “You might be right. But what could you do? She knew your boy and your boy said you should know her.”
“I know. I was there. Anyway, she says he’s been coming to visit. Which wouldn’t be hard to confirm.”
“Just need to check his passport.”
“Right. But he’s been meeting with others from the village. And some heavy-hitters here in Beijing.”
“Why?”
“You want the truth?” He eyed Shaw. “He’s planning something. And I think he’s about to test the waters.”
“What’s going down?”
“So far as she knows, word got back to her that he was going to start small. A car bomb, like the one a few years ago.”
“Here?”
“Yeah. Don’t know where yet. But it’s going to be soon.”
“We stand a chance at stopping it?”
“She didn’t get enough intel to know dates. But why would we, huh? After what those assholes did to ours?”
Shaw cast his gaze downward. “Hard to argue that point. But he’s the CEO of Dalian. Man, we can’t ignore that. Because if he’s testing the waters here, what do you think could happen back home?”
Shaw’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID. “I have to take this. Hang on.” He turned away. “Shaw here.”
Maddox looked through the sliding glass door and onto the city, finishing his beer while Shaw continued with his conversation.
“No. When did this happen?” He promptly turned back to his colleague with wide eyes. “Our guys okay?”
Maddox stood at attention and held Shaw’s gaze.
“Son of a bitch. On our way.” He ended the call and reached for his keys.
“What happened?”
“Guess we don’t have to wonder anymore.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“A bomb went off in the Tiananmen West Station. Chief wants us now.”
The FBI investigation into the entire State Department came on the heels of the presid
ent’s speech some eight weeks ago. The one he was forced to deliver in light of events brought forth by Lacy Merrick.
Transparency was key to ensuring the public was satisfied with the president’s remarks, and while the investigation itself had been deemed classified in the interest of national security, the president often remarked upon their progress, suggesting, “The truth will prevail” in his words.
This offered little comfort for Lacy as nothing had yet been disclosed. However, she still held the president in high esteem and expected he would continue to get to the bottom of the complete breakdown of his State Department, and discover if the lie had truly ended with Wendell Turner.
Lacy turned off the radio as she and Will made their way back to base. “You think anything will come of this?”
“The investigation?” Will glanced at her. “I don’t know. Director Mobley might shed some light on it for us.”
“It’s classified, remember?”
“Axell’s got the clearance. But we can’t worry about that right now. Our job is to find out if Yang is sending money to Turner and what this Matthew Greiner has to do with any of it.”
“Maybe Aaron was able to get somewhere.” Lacy killed the engine and stepped out of the car. Noting precise details of her surroundings, something she did now out of habit, the two made their way into their new headquarters.
“You’re back.” Trevor Axell raised to full height as the two caught his attention. “Hunter’s been working on the money transfer.”
“And?” Will asked.
Aaron spun his chair away from his monitor. “It’s looking like it was dark banking.” He noticed mild confusion mask their faces. “When individuals make money transfers between branches. It’s just another way to shield transactions. Anyway, I’m still working on it. How’d you guys do?”
“We got a name.” Lacy approached the two inside the bullpen. “Matthew Greiner. He worked for a company called Synergy Dynamics.”
“Government contractor,” Will added.
“Really?” Trevor rubbed his chin stubble. “That’s interesting.”
“That was back in 2015, though. The salesman who handled that contract has since left Argus and his clients along with him,” Lacy replied. “Nevertheless, you should be able to find something now that you have a name, a face, and a credit card.”
“It was a secured card under a false name. Hunter pulled the information on the name and got a big fat zero. But now we have this. It might still open some doors for us,” Axell replied.
“I assume you think he’s got ties to Yang. What intel do you have?” Will began. “You asked me to get you someone who could give us pictures and I did. But that means you had to have found something suggesting a connection to Yang.”
“I did. And I should’ve shared that with you.” Trevor returned his attention to Aaron. “Can you pull up the satellite images from Dalian from Monday afternoon?”
“We have satellite imagery?” Lacy asked. “I didn’t realize we had that sort of clout around here.”
“I take Director Mobley at his word when he says the president’s determined to let us do what needs to be done with regard to Shen Yang and Dalian. Lacy, we’ve been given unprecedented resources usually reserved for foreign surveillance.”
“Not domestic,” she added.
“I got it.” Aaron displayed the images on the large screens mounted on the wall. “These are from last Monday around 1pm.”
“Perfect.” Axell approached the monitors and pointed with his index finger. “This is our guy right here. He’s been showing up at the Dalian offices more frequently and I wanted to know why. Then, when I got word Turner’s been getting money, I thought why not start with this guy. So I started following him. Where Caison’s asset met him was one of a handful of hangouts I followed him to. I’d hoped he would be there the other night because he was there that same time the previous week. My hunch was right. He’s not our only lead, just our best one.”
“Has he shown up at the prison too?” Will asked.
“No such luck. But now we have a name, a real name, thanks to you two.”
“The problem is, as I see it,” Lacy began, “is that he’s tied to Argus—or was.”
“Meaning he could’ve been in the picture from the very beginning,” Trevor began. “But since we weren’t looking at him, he slipped under our radar. Now that he’s popping up, it’s time we learn a little more about him.”
Matthew Greiner finished his whiskey neat as the announcement stated the plane would begin its descent into Beijing. He returned his first-class seat to its upright position, folding the leg rest down and turning off the television monitor.
“May I take that glass for you, sir?” A pleasant-looking flight attendant flashed her smile and held out her hand.
“Of course. Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He watched her continue collecting miscellaneous items from the others in first-class, noting the sway of her hips. “Maybe next time,” he whispered under his breath.
Within minutes, he was ready to deplane and reached for the carrier bag stowed in the overhead bin. Inside the terminal, he started toward baggage claim. He pushed his hand through his white hair to straighten it after the long flight. Having turned gray at the age of thirty-five, now in his early fifties, his hair was completely white. It was his belief that it made him appear distinguished and Greiner thought highly of himself when it came to most things. Sexual conquests, business dealings, political friendships; he believed himself better than most. The hard work of making backroom deals, shaking the hands of dictators, royalty, and the political elite in Washington lent him exceptional confidence that could easily be mistaken for arrogance.
But his job now was something of an anomaly. A request, or rather, demand made by a powerful man who’d engaged him to lay the groundwork some months ago. And there was still much to be done.
His leather-bound case rolled down the belt and onto the carousel. Greiner stepped closer and reached for the bag, but not before someone else reached for it. “Excuse me. I believe this is my bag, sir.”
This person didn’t appear to be some distracted tourist or foreign businessman. Greiner eyed him and didn’t like what he was seeing.
“My sincerest apologies, sir.” The man bowed only slightly, his eyes never leaving Greiner’s. “My mistake.” He released the bag and turned on his heel.
Greiner wasn’t under the impression that what just happened was anything but intentional. A warning from someone who knew he had arrived, but was possibly unaware of his purpose. He was in foreign territory. A country that was on the receiving end of severe sanctions and it was only a matter of time before US citizens would no longer be allowed to travel here.
The lobby of the five-star hotel in the center of Beijing boasted a stunning bar area, complete with a karaoke stage tucked in the corner. A young Chinese man in a white oxford and loosened tie belted out a peculiar rendition of a recent Madonna song. The form of entertainment that had been so popular in Japan had grown even more popular in China.
Greiner sat at a bar top table for two as he looked with curiosity at the singer, waiting for his drink. His phone buzzed with an incoming message. “I’m here.” The text came through on the country’s popular texting app, one he had downloaded some time ago when he began this mission.
He turned toward the entrance and raised a hand to signal his location to the one who had texted him.
“How was your flight?” A man in a black suit and grey tie took a seat across from him.
“Decent.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“I’m all right.” He raised a hand to garner the attention of the cocktail waitress. “What are you drinking?”
The man turned to the waitress on her arrival. “Kweichow Moutai.”
“What he said. Xièxiè. (thank you.)” Greiner was familiar with the popular drink that had become the calling card of the politically connected
and well-to-do in China. However, the vodka-like liquor wasn’t his cup of tea and he preferred his scotch whiskey like every other red-blooded American man. Which, frankly, wasn’t that easy to find here.
After the waitress left, he continued. “You called this face-to-face. What is it that I can do for you, Minister?”
“As you know, it seems we’ve gone from bad to worse with US relations.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“Indeed, it is. However, it must be this way until we can come to a mutual understanding with the current administration.”
“They won’t call off the investigation, if that’s what you’re asking. Not a chance that will fly with the American people.”
“No. I don’t suppose it would. That is not what I am alluding to, however. As I see it, my government intends to continue to dispose of US bonds, which, as you know, will continue the decline of our currency.”
“Which of course, you can manipulate, should you choose to do so.”
“It’s not that easy and certainly not under this political climate, or economic one.”
“China keeps dumping stock, then what?” Greiner pressed on.
“Let me backtrack for just a moment and get to the point of why I called you here.”
The woman brought their drinks, placing them on the table. “Enjoy.” She turned on her heel and walked away.
“It’s about Yang. There was—an incident. And we’ve begun to feel as though he might not be looking out for the Party’s best interest.”
“I am aware of what happened.” Greiner had already been briefed about the bombing. “Do you know for sure Yang was involved?”
“We do not. However, with the sale of Dalian majority stock, we believe this has emboldened him to move in a direction that is making the Ministry quite uncomfortable.”
“If anything, he’s become your lap dog. Apologies if I offend, but he cannot move right now. Not with the scrutiny Dalian is currently under. Yang’s hands are bound, I assure you.”
“While I agree with you on that front, I’m speaking more about his association with certain individuals who, how should I say it? Have a difference of opinion from those of the Party.”
