by Thomas Scott
“Yes Sir, I will.”
“Jonesy, drop the ‘sir,’ will you? How long have we known each other? You’re one of the few people I have in my life who tells me the truth whether I want to hear it or not. That matters to me more than anything. Mac is fine.”
Virgil nodded. “You got it. Listen, about Murton…”
The governor held up his hands. “I’ll let you and Cora handle the details.” He paused in thought for a few seconds, then said, “However, I do think—”
“Mac.” Cora snapped at him. “Let me.”
Virgil knew what was happening. He’d seen it before with Pearson when he’d been the governor’s chief of staff. Had to protect the boss.
The governor tipped his head and said, “Well, guess that’s my cue.” He looked directly at Virgil. “Anything you need, you’ll have it.”
“Thanks, Mac.”
The governor walked out the door, then two seconds later stuck his head back in. “Listen, when we’re in public though…”
Virgil got it. “Yes, Sir.”
After the governor was gone: “Is he being squeezed?”
Cora didn’t hesitate. “No. And even if he was, he wouldn’t let it get in the way, not on something like this.”
Virgil thought she was probably right. Politics was one thing. A bomb laced with radioactive material was a whole other matter. “Murt told me he was there, the night Decker was…handled. Why?”
“Mac agreed to meet with Gibson and hear him out, that’s all.”
“With cleaners standing by? C’mon, Cora.”
“Yeah, that was a little out of bounds.”
“A little?”
Cora shrugged it off. “It’s the big leagues, Jones-man. Their paths were bound to intersect anyway. The fracking deal in Shelby County was just the tip of the iceberg. Gibson wanted Mac to release Murton so he could work the undercover part of his operation.”
“Gibson looked like he was going to go under himself.”
“I noticed that,” Cora said. “How about we get Becky and head over to the federal building?”
“You bet.”
The three of them arrived right on time at the federal building. They were delayed a few minutes while Virgil checked his weapons. With that done, they were all assigned visitor badges and led to a conference room on the third floor. Agent Gibson was already present, along with two other agents Virgil didn’t recognize. When he tried to introduce himself, the agents gave him a blank stare.
“Don’t mind them,” Gibson said. “Have a seat, please.”
“They all sat down and Virgil got right to it. “Where’s Murton? Why isn’t he here?”
Gibson sucked in his cheeks and looked at nothing. After a few seconds he said, “Murton has already begun his portion of the operation. As such, he won’t be joining us this morning.”
Becky jumped up from her chair. “What?”
One of the two agents observing the meeting took a step forward and Gibson caught it out of the corner of his eye. He held up a hand and the agent stopped, then returned to his place against the wall.
“Murton told me this morning that he was going to be here,” Becky said. “He didn’t say anything about starting right away.”
Gibson held out his hands in a ‘what can I say?’ gesture. “An opportunity presented itself. When I informed Murton, we both agreed it would be in the best interest of the operation if he took every advantage.”
Becky sat down in her seat. Virgil saw the look on her face and found himself relieved he wasn’t on the receiving end of her glare. Gibson seemed unfazed.
“Then where, exactly, is he, Agent Gibson?” Virgil asked.
Gibson looked at his watch. “I’d say passing over central Iowa right about now. He’s on a prison transport aircraft, headed to the federal pen in Sheridan, Oregon. Most people don’t know this, but they really do call those flights Con-Air.”
Becky pointed her finger at Gibson, about to say something. She was hot. Whatever it was wouldn’t be helpful, Virgil was certain. He put his hand on her arm and looked at her. She lowered her arm and placed it on the table, both her hands now clenched into fists.
“Walk us through your thought process, Agent Gibson,” Cora said. The tone of her voice suggested it wasn’t a request.
Gibson paused, an effort to show who was in charge. “Murton is on his way to Sheridan. Given the length of the flight and then the ground transportation to the facility itself he should arrive in about six hours. After that he’ll be processed and put into protective custody for a few days. That will create a level of…mmm…curiosity, among both the other inmates, and the guards. He’s perfectly safe.”
“How so?” Virgil said.
“Jack Grady is with him. In case you hadn’t noticed, Detective Grady isn’t here this morning either. He’s on the plane with Murton, acting as a corrections officer. When they get to the facility, Grady will stay on as a guard.” Gibson looked at Becky. “He’s not alone. We’ve thought this through.”
“You better have,” Becky said. She said it through her teeth.
Gibson went on to tell them the entirety of the plan. “After a few days in protective custody, he’ll be released into the general population. We expect someone will make contact with him and offer a way out in exchange for his unique abilities.”
Virgil was starting to put it together. Murton had been an explosives demolition expert during his time in the service. With his military background and his criminal record he’d be the ideal candidate to get inside a terrorist cell planning to detonate a dirty bomb in Indianapolis.
“What’s your plan if no one makes contact?” Virgil wanted to know.
“We’re confident they will,” Gibson said.
“How about you answer the question?”
Gibson sighed, as if he were explaining the situation to a group of middle-school students. “We have valuable, credible sources already inside the facility. We are completely confident this will play out the way we anticipate.”
Now it was Virgil’s turn to point a finger, and he did. “Bullshit. You might have people already inside, but you and I both know that no plan ever executes without something going sideways, even if it’s only a minor diversion. So answer the question, Paul. What if no contact is made? What happens then?”
“Then we pull him out, simple as that. He’ll return to duty for the state and we’ll have to reassess our options.”
“And what are those options?” Cora asked.
“I’m afraid I can’t say. That’s classified information.”
Virgil laughed without humor. “Of course it is. No different than any other federal operation, is it? The state does all the work, takes all the blame when things go to shit, all while the feds sit on their collective asses and watch from computer screens.”
“That is not what is happening here, Detective,” Gibson said, a little hot now.
“Isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not.” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, but when he spoke, his words came out quickly, as if he didn’t want to address what Virgil had said. “There’s more at play here than you realize.”
“I think everyone understands the stakes, Agent Gibson,” Cora said.
“Especially me,” Becky added.
Gibson tried some diplomacy. “Murton is the perfect candidate for the job. That’s why we’re using him.”
“That’s not the entire reason, though, is it, Paul?” Virgil said.
Gibson turned and looked at the other two federal agents. “Could we have the room, please?”
The agents looked first at Gibson, then each other. After a moment one of them shrugged, opened the door and they both stepped out.
Gibson waited until they were gone. “No, it’s not the entire reason. When Murton found out about the operation, he volunteered. It seems he has some unfinished business with his father…a father who happens to be one of our confidential informants on this case.”
&n
bsp; “You know what the problem with all of this is, Gibson?” Becky said. “You couldn’t let the sleeping dog lie. Murton hadn’t seen or spoken with his father in decades. He wasn’t even looking for him until you showed up one night with a cleaning crew, along with a carrot and a stick. He considers you a friend.”
Gibson was getting annoyed. “It’s a damned good thing I did show up, otherwise your beloved Murton would be sitting on death row for Decker’s murder.”
Virgil barked out a laugh. “That’s one way to view it. Here’s another: You were there before Murt was. You had cleaners in place, ready and waiting. Murt might have gone down for taking Decker out, but chances are, when it all came out in the open, you’d be right there with him.” Virgil leaned into his statement. “And it would have come out, Paul. I guarantee it.”
Gibson chuffed. “Would it?” He turned his attention to Cora. “What’s your take on the matter, Ms. LaRue? Better yet, what say the governor? What’s his level of culpability in the matter regarding Decker’s death? He was there too, you know.” He looked at Virgil. “By the way, how is your son, Jonas, Detective? Everything seems to have worked out well with your family, hasn’t it?”
Virgil jumped out of his chair and was across the table before Gibson knew what was happening. He grabbed Gibson by his tie and yanked him forward, their faces inches apart. “Bring my son into this mess you’ve created and I will personally make sure they never find your body. Am I making myself clear? A cleaning crew won’t be necessary.”
“Jonesy,” Becky yelled. “Let him go. Jonesy…”
Virgil pushed Gibson away so hard he stumbled and fell to the floor on his butt.
“I could charge you with assault on a federal officer,” Gibson said as he stood. “That’s mandatory jail time, Jones. Touch me again and see what happens.” He straightened his tie and jacket.
“Mention my son again,” Virgil said. He wasn’t backing down.
Cora took over. “That’s enough. Both of you. Sit down.” She looked at Virgil. “I mean it.”
Virgil was breathing through his mouth. He finally nodded at her and took a seat. She turned her attention to Gibson. “As for you, Agent Gibson, let me make something perfectly clear. The governor brought me on to his team to get his house in order. I’ve done exactly that. It was no easy task, believe me. But done is done. You think we didn’t take certain precautions before your little meeting a few months ago? Bring whatever you’ve got to the table and we’ll let the public decide who’s culpable. I promise you this: It won’t be Murton Wheeler.” She shook her head and let out a little chuckle. “And it sure as hell won’t be Mac.”
Gibson suddenly didn’t look so smug.
“Now,” Cora continued, “how about we all start over?”
Gibson chewed on the inside corner of his lip. “This meeting was held as a courtesy. It’s now over.” He looked at the three of them. “Stay out of our way. It’s not a request.” He opened the door and the two agents stepped back in to the room. “These gentlemen will show you out.
Once they were back in Virgil’s office at the MCU, he thought for a moment, then pulled out his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Jack Grady.”
“Don’t bother,” Cora said. “I already tried.”
Virgil let the phone ring anyway. When he was connected he got the same ‘no longer in service’ message. He wanted to throw the phone against the wall, but managed not to. “So all of our connections to Murt and the entire operation have vanished.”
“That about says it.” Cora walked over and looked out the window. When she turned back, her face was cast in shadow. “Gibson pulled Murton into his operation by dangling the only carrot he had. Murt’s father. Maybe that part doesn’t matter now that he’s in. I don’t know because we don’t know how Ralph Wheeler fits in to all of this. What I do know is if you and Becky are going to help him, you’re going to be operating without the assistance of the federal government.”
Virgil—now glad he hadn’t destroyed his phone—called Ron Miles. “Are you still in the building? Good. Would you come down to my office? I’m here with Cora and I need to ask you something.” He listened for a moment, then said, “I don’t know. Hold on.” He gave the phone to Cora. “Would you tell Ron where my office is, please?”
Miles walked in thirty seconds later and stopped just inside the doorway. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Where’s all your stuff?”
Virgil ignored the question. “I need a favor.”
If Miles was surprised, he didn’t show it. “I’m sure it was a simple mix-up. I’ll make sure you get some furniture as soon as possible.”
“Ron, I don’t care about that. I need something else.”
Miles gave him a suspicious look. “What?”
“Rosencrantz is tied up with the missing I.U. student. I need Ross.”
“What for?”
Virgil glanced at Cora. She raised her eyebrows, let the corners of her mouth turn down and nodded. Virgil spent ten minutes and laid it out for him. When he finished the look on Ron’s face was similar to that of a person sitting in the front seat of a small passenger plane as the unmistakable odor of an electrical fire assaulted their nostrils.
“Ron?”
Miles nodded, took out his phone and called Ross. “Get up to Virgil’s office right now.” There was a pause, then Miles turned his back and lowered his voice. Second floor. It’s the only one with no furniture.”
Virgil heard him. Cora did too. When he turned back around they both stared at him. “Really, your stuff is on the way. I swear.”
Ross showed up two minutes later. “You’re assigned to Virgil until further notice,” Miles said. “You’ll report to him and he’ll fill me in as needed. That clear?”
Ross looked around the room. “Yes, Sir.”
Miles looked at Virgil. “Good luck.” He walked out before Virgil could respond.
Virgil looked at Ross. “Let’s go, kid.”
When they turned to leave the room Cora called out to him. “Jonesy?”
He thought she was going to try to stop him, but she surprised him instead. She walked over and placed her hand on his chest. “Be careful.”
Virgil told her he would. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do, but he knew with every fiber of his being he would not stand idly by while Murton went off to slay the dragons of his past. Like it or not, he planned to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother to the bitter end.
Of course, that was four weeks ago.
19
Four Days Ago
Almost four weeks passed in agonizing slowness. Virgil, Becky, and Ross worked every angle they could think of to help Murton and Grady. Since they knew where both men were—Murton was in lock-up at Sheridan, with Grady there as his backup, most of their efforts went into researching two disparate things: missing or stolen explosives was one. Ralph Wheeler was the other. The ATF cooperated with them regarding the explosives, but mostly, Virgil thought, because there was nothing to cooperate on. There’d been no unsolved thefts of any explosive material large enough to cause any real concern. Would that change when and if Murton got out of prison as planned? Virgil didn’t know. He also didn’t say anything to the ATF about it.
Ralph Wheeler was a ghost. Becky, with all her research skills and backdoor entries into most every usable database that mattered turned up exactly nothing on him from the time he’d been released from Sheridan over ten years ago. She’d spent weeks looking and still had feelers and traps out, but they’d now reached the point where no one had their hopes set very high.
They also went back to Radiology, Inc., the nuclear pharmaceutical manufacturer in Louisville and met with the CEO, Rick Said. While he wasn’t happy to see Virgil and Ross, he assured them he’d cooperate with their investigation.
“I simply don’t see it,” Said said. He didn’t look much like a nuclear pharmaceutical company CEO. He looked, Virgil thought, more like a
writer, or maybe an anthropologist, though Virgil would have been the first to admit he didn’t know what an anthropologist looked like and probably wouldn’t even if one walked up and slapped him. He was dressed in blue jeans that sat high on his waist and wore a tan shirt with too many pockets. His white hair was combed neatly to the side. They were seated in his office and Said pulled out a bottom desk drawer and propped a boot on top of the corner. “All of our people are vetted ten ways from Sunday.”
“Looks like you’re going to have to re-examine your procedures then,” Virgil said. “Somebody slipped through. Our researcher says your logs were tampered with and since all of the actual material has been accounted for, we have to believe she’s right. Unless you have a different idea, that is.”
Said locked his fingers together in a steeple, the way CEO’s do and thought about it. “I don’t,” he eventually said. “But when I think about it, I can’t put my finger on who it might be. We run a pretty tight ship. I know every single person who works here. To think that one of them…” He shook his head and let the thought finish itself. “Anyway, I meant what I said. I’ll help in any way I can. If word of this got out, we’d be finished. No one is more interested in catching these guys than I am.”
“There’s more at stake than your company’s reputation here, Mr. Said. If enough of your material gets packed into a bomb, we’re talking about the loss of an entire city.”
Said put his feet on the floor. “Yes, yes, of course. I know what’s at stake. I didn’t mean to imply that I’m unsympathetic to the situation. I’ve got family in Indy.”
“So do we,” Ross said with a little bite. He might be new to the unit, but it wasn’t his first day as a cop working a civilian.
Said raised his hands, palms out. “Guys, really, I get it. Our next big shipment goes out in four days. Tell me what to do.”
“We’ve got an idea,” Virgil said. “But we’re going to have to be careful.”
