I told him the full story—which I figured he’d embellish with a few details of his own before telling his buddies over at OSBI.
Once he’d finished laughing, he made a phone call to someone he knew in purchasing over at the NPD.
A few minutes later, I walked out of the store with a brand-new pair of Bushnell Rangefinders, Model DX, and Danny walked out with a brand-new Ruger, plus a good story to add to his ever-expanding repertoire.
PART TWO
Chapter 10
Tuesday, November 24
Nikki and I arrived at Detroit Metro Airport around noon on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and although the terminal was crowded with holiday travelers, we were out of the airport and driving up the I-96 expressway toward Flint within an hour of our arrival.
Our rental car, a black Chevy Suburban, was equipped with a navigation system, and, after we stopped for lunch, I entered an address on the screen.
“Why are you using the GPS?” Nikki asked. “I know you don’t need directions to find your way to Flint.”
“As long as we’re in Detroit, I thought we’d check out Stephen Gault’s place of business.”
“In other words, you’re doing some recon of the area before you see him on Friday?”
I nodded. “Douglas doesn’t believe Gault poses any danger, so it probably isn’t necessary, but I’ve never regretted taking extra precautions.”
The surveillance team Carlton had sent to Detroit to monitor Stephen Gault’s activities, hadn’t turned up anything unusual on him, but, a few days ago, Carlton had called to give me an update on certain aspects of Gault’s behavior he’d found troubling.
He’d described those troubling aspects as “anomalies.”
The first anomaly had to do with Gault’s actions regarding his company, Advanced Computer Solutions.
According to the company’s website, Advanced Computer Solutions was “an information technology service specializing in computer software designed for a company’s individual needs.”
What bothered Carlton was that Gault, who was both the owner and manager of the business, had been holding discussions with his lawyer about the possibility of temporarily transferring ownership of the company over to his assistant manager, Jessie Hartis.
The second anomaly centered around Gault’s apartment.
Although Gault had been paying for his apartment on a monthly basis, he’d recently signed a six-month rental agreement with his landlord and given her the full six-month’s rent in advance.
I’d agreed with Carlton that the most logical explanation of why Gault would temporarily hand over his company to someone was that he was planning to be out of the country for an extended length of time. In addition, paying for a six-month lease on his apartment would support that explanation.
However, what puzzled both of us was the fact there wasn’t any evidence Gault was going anywhere. The Agency’s financial analysts hadn’t found anything in Gault’s bank records or in his credit card transactions that would indicate he’d made arrangements to leave the country, much less leave Detroit.
All that had changed three days ago, when Carlton had sent me a one-sentence email, along with an attached document.
His email said, “Maybe this explains everything.”
Carlton seldom used italicized words unless he wanted to express sarcasm or doubt. In this case, once I’d read the attachment, I knew he’d been expressing doubt about the message contained in the attachment.
The attachment was a memo Stephen Gault had sent to his employees at Advanced Computer Solutions.
It read, “This memo is to inform you that I’ll be taking a six-month leave of absence beginning the first of December. At that time, Jessie Hartis will temporarily assume the day-to-day management of ACS, and Linda Adkins will become the assistant manager. Although I’m not allowed to go into any details, I’ve been selected as a contestant for a new wilderness survival program to be shown on a major television network next fall. This will be a reality show which requires me to be out of the country for the next six months. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. However, I assure you I’ll be leaving ACS in good hands, and once I return, I’ll be eager to share my adventure with you.”
Gault had ended the memo by asking his employees to wish him luck.
Like Carlton, I thought maybe the memo explained everything.
* * * *
Advanced Computer Solutions was located off I-96 on Telegraph Road near Rouge Park. It was a nondescript two-story brick structure with a parking lot in front of the building.
After driving past the site, I made a U-turn, came back down the other side of the street, and pulled into a fast-food place directly across the street from the building.
“Anything draw your attention?” Nikki asked, after we’d sat there and observed the scene for a minute or two.
“No,” I said. “How about you?”
“There’s not much to see,” she said. “The parking lot has about forty cars in it, which I guess would be normal for a business that size.”
“Right. Gault has about forty employees.”
We sat there for several more minutes without saying a word.
Finally, Nikki said, “There’s a gray van in the parking lot of that medical building next to Gault’s place. It’s in the second row.”
“I see it; third one from the end. Looks like there’s two guys inside.”
“When we drove in here, the blond-headed guy was just coming out of the building. So far, they’re still sitting there. By my calculation, they’ve been sitting there for at least ten minutes.”
“If that’s an Agency surveillance team, the blond guy may have gone inside the building to use the facilities while his partner kept his eye on Gault’s building.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“From here, it looks like the van is in a good position to monitor communications inside Advanced Computer Solutions. I can see why the van got your attention, but what about that utility truck parked over on the other side of Gault’s building?”
Nikki glanced off to her left. “That looks like a legitimate cable utility vehicle to me. That guy’s been tinkering around inside that metal switch box the whole time we’ve been here.”
We both observed the man for a moment, and then she asked, “What do you find suspicious about him?”
“Maybe it’s what you said. The guy is just tinkering around. Sure, he pulls out some wires and looks at them for a few minutes, but after he puts them back inside the box, he takes out some more wires and just does the same thing over again. He may look like he’s busy, but he’s not doing any real work. I’ve done the same thing myself many times.”
After observing the cable guy for a few minutes, I pointed back over to the gray van where a tall, lanky guy was just getting out of the driver’s seat. “There’s movement at the van.”
“That’s not the same guy I saw before. The blond guy had curly hair and was sitting in the passenger seat.”
The Lanky Man walked across the parking lot and went inside the Rouge Park Medical Facilities. Less than ten minutes later, he came back out of the building and got inside the van again.
I said, “There’s probably several good explanations of why two guys would park their van at a medical office building and periodically go inside and come back out again. For instance, they could be sales reps taking turns making a sales pitch to the doctors inside.”
Nikki smiled. “If so, I’m sure the doctors really appreciate their short presentations.” She shook her head. “No, I’m willing to bet those two are members of your Agency surveillance team.”
I looked back over at the cable truck, where a guy wearing a dark blue baseball cap was just getting out of the vehicle. When he walked up to say something to the man standing beside the metal switch box, I said, “You’d lose that bet, Detective, because I believe the cable guy wearing the baseball cap is Abe Weston. If so, he and I have worked together on an assignment
before.”
“You don’t sound that sure of his identity.”
“Well, it’s been several years, and it was only a short assignment, but there’s an easy way to find out.”
* * * *
I pulled out my Agency phone and called Carlton, but, instead of phoning him directly, I punched in the number of his executive assistant, Sally Jo Hartford.
Sally Jo—or Mrs. Hartford as Carlton insisted she be called—had been with Carlton his whole tenure at the Agency, and even though she was nearing retirement age, I couldn’t imagine what Carlton would do without her.
“Sally Jo, it’s me, Titus. How are you?”
“Titus Ray, how wonderful to hear your voice. Mr. Carlton told me congratulations are in order. I understand you’re engaged.”
“That’s right, and I can’t wait for you to meet her.” I looked over at Nikki and smiled. “She’s an incredible woman. Besides being beautiful, she’s also extremely intelligent.”
“If she’s agreed to marry you, then I’m sure she is. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll invite you to our wedding.”
“That would be lovely, Titus, but I know you didn’t call to talk to me about your upcoming nuptials. Unfortunately, you just missed Mr. Carlton. He had to step out for a moment.”
“That’s okay; maybe you can help me.”
The tone in Sally Jo’s voice changed immediately. “You know I can’t tell you anything Mr. Carlton hasn’t already told you.”
“I’m calling about the surveillance he’s running on Stephen Gault.”
“What about it?”
“I know Abe Weston is heading up one of the teams, but I have no idea who’s heading up the second team.”
“I don’t remember who’s on the second team either. If you can hold for a minute, I’ll check.”
While I listened to Sally Jo clicking keys on her computer, I glanced over at Nikki, who shook her head and smiled at me.
I gave her a thumbs up.
When Sally Jo came back on the line, she said, “The leader on the second team is Arnita Denver. Abe Weston and J.D. Ollie are on the first team, and Silas Harrison and Arnita are on the second team. Anything else you need?”
“No, that’s it. You have a good day.”
“Oh, wait a second, Titus. Mr. Carlton just walked in. I’ll transfer you to his office.”
“No, that’s okay, Sally Jo. I don’t need to talk to—”
“What’s this about the surveillance teams?” Carlton asked, when he came on the line. “Are you in Detroit already?”
“Hi, Douglas. We flew in a couple of hours ago. Since Gault’s company is located right off the I-96 expressway, I decided I would swing by and check out the place before I showed up at his office on Friday.”
“Of course, you did. Doesn’t surprise me a bit. Can I assume Ms. Saxon’s with you?”
“That’s right. Nikki’s with me. To be truthful, we’re sitting here at Gault’s building having a slight disagreement about which one of two possible vehicles could be conducting surveillance on him. I thought I’d spotted Abe Weston in a cable repair truck, so I called to verify he was on site.”
“And you had Mrs. Hartford verify the team members’ names for you?”
“That’s right; she verified the names for me.”
I waited a beat, thinking he might point out she’d disclosed the members of the surveillance teams without his consent.
When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Is there any reason for me not to make contact with Abe? I’d like to ask him a few questions about Gault.”
“Ah . . . well . . .”
I waited while he ran through all the possible scenarios of what might happen if I had a conversation with Abe.
“No, I guess not. I can’t think of any reason why you shouldn’t touch base with him. But, the last time I talked to him, he didn’t have anything new on Gault.”
“I just have a couple of questions I’d like to ask him.”
“I’ll text him to be on the lookout for you.”
“That’ll work.”
“This time, Titus, let’s leave Ms. Saxon out of Agency business.”
“Oh, absolutely, and I’ll tell her you said hello.”
I hung up before he had a chance to deny he’d said such a thing.
* * * *
Nikki didn’t seem too disappointed when I told her she’d been wrong about the gray van, but then, when I suggested she remain inside our vehicle while I went across the street to ask Abe a couple of questions, she pushed back a little.
“Are you asking me to stay out of sight because of what happened with Travis Zachary?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
She tilted her head and studied me a moment. “Pretty much? By any chance did your boss tell you not to include me?”
I grinned. “That’s right, Detective, but don’t take it personally. Douglas knows you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself. He just likes to run a tight ship, that’s all.”
“Does that mean he considers me excess cargo?”
When I opened my mouth to protest, she placed her finger against my lips. “I was just kidding. I don’t mind staying here. Go talk to your friend.”
I leaned over and gave her a kiss. “This shouldn’t take long.”
* * * *
Abe Weston and I had only worked surveillance together once, and after the assignment was over, I’d actually thought about suggesting to Carlton he send Weston back to take a refresher course at Camp Peary, the CIA’s training facility near Williamsburg, Virginia.
Even though I’d been told Weston was a top-rate surveillance guy, after working with him a few days, I hadn’t been impressed with his skills.
He just hadn’t been that good.
While he hadn’t minded sitting in one place for hours, doing nothing more than stare at a doorway, he’d failed to observe the little things—the minor details that could give a covert operative an extra edge when dealing with a sudden crisis.
Since it had been several years since Weston and I had worked together, I wanted to believe what was true of him then might not be true of him now, and, as I crossed the intersection and walked over to where the cable company vehicle was parked, I was determined to keep an open mind about his abilities.
The truck’s cab was facing the Advanced Computer Solutions building, and when I walked up, Weston was standing outside the vehicle leaning against the passenger side door, as if he might be waiting for me to show up.
Because I wanted to minimize the chances of being seen around Gault’s building before Friday, I skirted around the truck and approached it from the far side, the side facing the Rouge Park Medical Facilities. As long as I maintained this posture, if someone in the Advanced Computer Solutions’ building happened to be watching the cable guys, they wouldn’t be able to see my features.
The moment I walked up to Weston, I pointed at the cell phone in my hand and said, “Hi, Abe. Just in case someone’s interested in why we’re talking to each other, let’s do the I’m-a-stranger-asking-for-directions scenario.”
Weston shrugged and tapped on the screen of my cell phone as if he were pointing to a location. “It’s good to see you again, Titus. Walk over here with me, and I’ll introduce you to my partner.”
He took my cell phone, and we walked over to his partner, who was still fooling around with the wires at the cable switch box.
“Hey, J.D.,” he said, “pretend you’re interested in the map on the screen. Nod your head or something.”
J.D. took the phone, looked down at it, and nodded his head. Then, he added a little something extra to his playacting by scratching his head. When he handed my phone back to me, he said, “I’m J.D. Ollie.”
“Nice to meet you J.D.,” I said. “I’m Titus Ray. I just have a couple of questions for the two of you, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I’ve been sending the Ops Center
daily reports on Gault,” Weston said, with a slight edge to his voice. “You might find what you’re looking for in those reports.”
I nodded. “Douglas mentioned your reports on Gault have been very thorough.”
When Weston heard this, he seemed to relax a little.
“I’m not as much interested in Gault’s activities as I am in any gossip you may have picked up on him from his employees.”
Weston shook his head. “We’ve only tapped into his office phone and the landline in his apartment. That’s all the FISA warrant would allow us to do. The rest of the phones in Gault’s building are off limits. They weren’t included in our orders.”
FISA or the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act was administered by a federal court and permitted limited electronic surveillance on American citizens in pursuit of foreign intelligence. However, the courts in the D.C. area were notorious for turning down requests that originated with the CIA.
Usually, whenever they denied a request, they would cite the CIA’s original charter, which was a judge’s not-so-subtle way of implying the Agency was overreaching its boundaries by spying on its own citizens.
“What about his cell phone?” I asked.
“No, the Agency couldn’t get a warrant for that,” Weston said. “Evidently, we didn’t have a very sympathetic judge.”
“I know you don’t need a warrant to use your mikes, though,” I said. “I happened to notice there was an area at the side of Gault’s building where the employees can take a smoke break. Have you been able to pick up any conversations using your mikes?”
The two most effective tools for listening in on a conversation taking place between a group of people a short distance away were a parabolic microphone coupled with a shotgun mike, and those tools were always included in an Agency surveillance vehicle.
In fact, part of the reason for using a cable repair truck as a cover vehicle was so that a civilian who happened to see one of our Agency guys handling such equipment would just consider it part of the cable company’s gear.
Five Years in Yemen Page 9
