by Dean Atwood
“I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to go over the details of what I’m doing at the present time.”
“I understand,” she said.
If she only knew, he thought. She wouldn’t be so understanding.
“Is everything OK? Did you call to talk or is something wrong?”
“You could definitely say something is wrong.”
“What’s the matter?” he said with concern in his voice.
“Somebody tried to kill me.”
“What? Are you injured?”
“I have a few bruises, nothing serious. Thomason wasn’t so lucky.”
“Who’s Thomason?”
“He was my new FBI partner until he took two bullets to the head.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“The man who drove us off the road and shot Thomason is dead. He hasn’t been identified yet, but he will be soon. He’s obviously a hired assassin. I assume he was hired by the same person who hired the murderer who killed Jeremy.”
“Where exactly are you now?”
“I’m in the emergency room, but I’ve been released by the doctor.”
“Do you need me to meet you there?”
“No, that isn’t necessary. You’re obviously busy with your case. I contacted Special Agent Warren and he arranged for two FBI Agents from the local office to escort me back to the JUIAF in Charlottesville. They just arrived and are waiting for me.”
“Are you certain they’re FBI Agents and not assassins?”
“Yes, they showed me their badges and Warren gave them a special password to relay to me to confirm their identity.”
Another phone rang in the hotel room, and the lieutenant answered it.”
“Did I hear a phone ring and a woman answering?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to explain what’s going on?”
“I told you, I can’t go into the details.”
“I’m sorry. With everything that’s happened in the last few days, I’m on edge. I know we can’t always share information about cases. It makes me crazy sometimes. Especially when it involves our current assignments which are intertwined.”
“You better go meet your escorts and get yourself safely back to the JUIAF.”
“QT?”
“Yeah?
“I thought I was going to be killed for sure tonight. When the situation was hopeless, and I was preparing to die, you’re the one I was thinking about. Can we talk about us when this is over?”
“We’ll talk when the time is right. I’ll get in touch with you when I return.”
“I love you, QT.”
“... Me, too. Bye.”
Quinton disconnected the phone call and made his way back to the pillow beside the lieutenant. She was listening to the person talking to her on her phone but was looking into QT’s eyes. He tried to read the expression on her face. Had she overheard his call with Blaire? Was she jealous, angry, indifferent, or feeling something else. This was one of those intricacies with women that eluded his comprehension. He should try to talk to her about it, although he was doubtful he’d be able to decipher her response. His experience had been that women sometimes say one thing and mean another. And, invariably he came to the wrong conclusion about what they were saying and feeling.
The lieutenant nodded a few times to silently acknowledge what the person on the other end of the call was saying but didn’t say anything until she was ready to finish the conversation.
“No, I don’t think that will be necessary ... It’s come to my attention that she’s safely on her way back to Charlottesville ... Yes, I’ll let you know ... Thanks for the help. I owe you.”
“Well, that was a mood killer,” QT said after the lieutenant ended her call. “That was Blaire, who called. Somebody killed another FBI Agent and tried to kill her.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Oh, I guess you heard our conversation.”
“Part of it, but I would have known anyway. That was Rasputin who called me. He killed the man who was trying to assassinate Blaire.”
“Did I ever tell you that I think you’re an amazing woman. You surprise me, and I’m not easily surprised.”
“You don’t really know me. If you did, you’d realize how messed up in the head I am.”
“I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t noticed that you have ... problems. But, you’ve changed over the past few days. You’re not the same person I met five months ago and had coffee with on a regular basis.”
“A few hot showers and some new clothes have changed me on the outside but I’m not who you think I am on the inside.”
“I can tell you have a strong sense of right and wrong. You’re a caring person on the inside. You’ve saved Blaire’s life twice.”
“... I was tortured with a mind control device. I still have episodes.”
“Episodes?”
“Flashbacks or new suggestions. I can’t really tell where they’re coming from. I had an episode on the train. A voice in my head told me to kill Anne Upshaw. It frightened me. I want to save her. At least I think I do. I’m worried I’ll do something bad because I’ve been brainwashed.”
QT put his arm around her and squeezed her close to him. “I believe in you. I’d trust you with my life. You don’t have it in you to murder an innocent person even if you’re brainwashed.”
“I appreciate that. Our nights together have been good for my confidence. Good therapy, you could say. But, I’m too broken right now for a relationship. Besides, you still have unresolved feelings for Blaire.”
“I don’t deny that I still have feelings for Blaire, but I have feelings for you, too.”
“I’ll help you in whatever ways I can to find out who’s behind this plot, but our intimacy has to stop. We need to change back from being lovers to good friends.”
“OK,” QT said with disappointment in the tone of his voice. “If that’s what you want.” He hugged her again and felt her bare breasts rub against his chest. He put sexual thoughts out of his mind and gave her a short kiss of affection.
She kissed him back with more desire than he’d kissed her. “This is absolutely the last time,” she said and positioned herself on top of him.
As usual, when it came to women, he was caught off guard. She’d said one thing and done another. Now, he really didn’t know where this relationship was going from here, but it wasn’t a priority at the moment.
Round two was underway.
Chapter 47
F or the second morning that week, QT found himself lying in bed while the woman he was sleeping with arose early and prepared to leave him.
“What time is it?” QT asked the lieutenant when she walked out of the bathroom fully clothed.
“It’s 6:45.”
“Why are you up so early?”
“I have a breakfast date.”
“I thought you and I’d have breakfast together. I could use a cup of coffee right about now.”
“No can do. I made this date yesterday.”
“With whom?”
“A handsome man I met on the train yesterday.”
“Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“Am I making you jealous?”
“No, I’m not the jealous type. Well, maybe I’m somewhat envious of the other man.”
“You can’t be a jealous lover. We’ve returned to good friend status; don’t you remember our talk last night?”
“I thought that meant I’d still have priority when it came to having morning coffee together. Who is this guy, anyway?”
“Does the name, Ted Danziger ring a bell?”
“The VP of Operations for Upshaw Corporation?”
“Yes, that’s the man.”
“How’d you meet him?”
“I told you. I met him on the train. He was in the seat next to me. We started talking, and he offered to give me a ride to the hotel in his private
limo.”
“That was nice of him.”
“It was better than taking the shuttle bus.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“He wanted me to have a nightcap with him last night and have breakfast in his suite with him this morning.”
“That’s not very subtle. He just met you and asked you to spend the night with him?”
“I told him I had a previous engagement, but I’d meet him in the Westin Restaurant for breakfast this morning.”
“I thought you wanted to talk with Anne Upshaw not Danziger.”
“He promised to introduce me to her after breakfast this morning — if I’d have dinner and a nightcap with him tonight.”
“And, you agreed?”
“Sure, why not?”
“You’re not going to tell him that he’s being monitored by the NSA, are you?”
“No, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Good. It’s one thing to alert a private citizen that she’s being illegally exposed to a mind control device and quite another to interfere with legal monitoring of an executive suspected of treason.”
“I got a really bad vibe talking with Danziger yesterday.”
“How so?”
“He gave me the impression that he has a low opinion of Anne Upshaw and resents her. He said she’s just a figure head and that he’s the one who really runs the company.”
“Do you think he’d plot against her to try to take over leadership of the Upshaw business?”
“He strikes me as the type of person who’d do almost anything he deemed necessary to further his own interests. I can’t think of a motive he’d have to kill two FBI Agents and Blaire, but you never know about people. Maybe he’ll open up to me when his guard is down, during a romantic dinner.”
“I don’t like the sounds of that. He could be dangerous.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m leading the FBI’s murder investigation. I can’t have you or anyone else interfering.”
“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? I’m already involved, at your request if I recall correctly.”
“This is different. Up until now you haven’t had personal contact with people of interest in the case.”
“Let’s see how my discussion goes with Anne before deciding whether to take it further with Ted.”
“I still need to arrange an interview with Anne Upshaw myself to ask her questions pertinent to Jeremy’s murder. Also, one of us has to tell her that a hitman has been hired to kill her. I think it would be more believable coming from me.”
“When I talk to her about the psycho electronic device, I can tell her that you want to ask her a few questions.”
“OK. Perhaps she won’t lawyer up, if we keep the request informal.”
“I better get going. I don’t want Danziger to think I’m a no show.”
“I’ll be down shortly and get a table near yours.”
“I’ll be watching for you ... And QT, I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For last night.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Lieutenant Mad, or should I call you Sandy?”
“Better stick with Lieutenant Mad.”
“I was beginning to like Sandy. She’s a free spirit.”
“You mean she’s easy.”
“I think desirable and passionate are words that best describe both of you.”
“I’m beginning to feel like I’m developing a dual personality disorder.”
“As long as Lieutenant Mad and Sandy Foot don’t carry on a conversation with each other, you should be fine.”
Chapter 48
B laire turned the knob and opened the door. She half expected to find a soldier standing guard, but none was stationed there. Apparently, Agent Warren had heeded her insistence that there not be a repeat of what she considered to be excessive caution when she’d stayed at the JUIAF after her ordeal with the first two attempts on her life.
It was 8:00 a.m. and the cafeteria was open. She could use something to eat before facing an inquisition by Warren. Most of the employees who made a habit of having breakfast at the cafeteria were already done eating and had gone to their offices to begin work; however, she spotted one familiar face. She poured herself a cup of coffee and placed it on her tray along with a bowl of cereal with fruit on top.
She walked over to the table and said, “Good morning, Karen.”
“Blaire, please sit down. My God are you OK. I heard there was another attempt on your life.”
“The word gets around fast at the JUIAF. When you’re surrounded by intelligence analysts, it’s tough to keep a secret.”
“Special Agent Warren called me at home last night to tell me about it. He wanted the team members to hear about Thomason from him before the rumor mill started buzzing this morning.”
“I’m getting tired of being a target. We need to get to the bottom of this. You and I both know it has something to do with our task force.”
“Have you talked with FBI Agent Target recently? Is he making any progress?”
“I talked to him last night, but if he has any suspects, he didn’t share that information with me.”
“Do you think somebody wants to kill everybody on our team?”
“It’s difficult to say. I have no idea why somebody wants to kill me. But, the only common denominator for Jeremy, Thomason, and me is the task force.”
Karen looked around the cafeteria, as if she were checking to see if anyone was watching her or listening to their conversation. “I have to tell you something,” she said. “I’m not supposed to talk to anybody about it, but I need your advice.”
“You know you can trust me. You can tell me anything.”
“Do you remember in our task force meeting, I told Warren that I’d discovered some unusual communications from Ted Danziger, who’s the VP of Operations for Upshaw?”
“Vaguely.”
“I’ve unencrypted some of his emails.”
“Did you review them with Warren, yet?”
“No, that’s the problem ... Some of the emails are between Warren and Danziger.”
“What?”
“From what I’ve read, it appears that Danziger contacted Warren as a whistle blower. He said he had proof that Anne Upshaw was illegally dealing with the Chinese.”
“Why would Warren keep that from us?”
“It’s weird, isn’t it? I mean, he must have used that email to get approval to form our task force in the first place.”
“Maybe his superiors wanted to keep it quiet because they were afraid it would leak out and compromise the whistle blower.”
“There’s more. Danziger told Warren that an FBI Agent named Jeremy Glover was having an affair with Anne Upshaw, and he was concerned that Jeremy was covering up Anne’s illegal activities with foreign agents.”
“That could explain why Warren didn’t inform our team. He’d have to be careful what he said while Jeremy was sitting right there with us.”
“That’s true. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“What you’re telling me about Jeremy and Anne explains something I saw while I was bugging her home office last night. Hanging on one of the walls, there was a framed photo of Anne with her staff. Jeremy was in the photo, too, with his arm around her.”
“You don’t think Special Agent Warren was somehow involved with Jeremy’s and Thomason’s murders, do you? Maybe a vigilante act by Warren to get rid of a dirty agent.”
“But why take out Thomason and go after me? It seems out of character for Warren to do something like that. He’s so buttoned up and such a rules follower.”
“What am I going to do, Blaire? If I give the emails to Warren, he’s going to know I read them. And, if he is involved with the murders, what’s to stop him from having me killed so I don’t reveal his secrets.”
“I think it’s unlikely he’s going to harm you. If it makes you
feel better, hold off telling him for a day or two. I’ll inform QT, I mean Agent Target, about our conversation, so he can take the information into consideration while he’s conducting his investigation.”
“What if Warren asks me whether I’ve decoded the communications?”
“Tell him you decrypted them today, but hadn’t had a chance to read them, yet.”
“I’m not good at lying.”
“Then, tell him the truth. Say that you haven’t had a chance to interpret them instead of saying you haven’t read them.”
“I’m scared, Blaire. I’m not strong like you.”
“You’re stronger than you think. We’ll get through this,” Blaire said in a tone that didn’t exude confidence.
Chapter 49
L ieutenant Mad walked into the restaurant and approached the hostess’ desk.
“Breakfast for one?” the hostess asked.
“Have you seen a well-dressed man with a pompadour hairdo at breakfast this morning?”
“We just seated Mr. Danziger. Are you Sandy?”
“Yes, that’s me.” She was getting used to being called by that name, even though she wasn’t completely accustomed to the persona that went with it.
“Mr. Danziger asked me to bring you to his table as soon as you arrived. Please follow me.”
Before she was close enough to see his face, she recognized him by his signature hairdo. He was wearing a fresh change of clothes, which was more casual than the suit he was wearing on the train. No doubt, his shirt and pants were approved by GQ magazine as appropriate attire for eating breakfast at a restaurant.
He eyed her up and down as she walked toward his table and greeted her enthusiastically. “Good morning, Sandy. Did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“It was very ... satisfying,” she said.
While Danziger sat and looked at his menu, the hostess pulled out Sandy’s chair for her and pushed it in after she sat down. Once again, he’d missed an opportunity to be gallant. It occurred to her that he was used to having women throw themselves at him, so he wasn’t accustomed to making special attempts to impress them with good manners.
“There’s quite an elaborate buffet set up,” Sandy said.
“I don’t do buffets,” he said curtly. “Who knows how many people have breathed on, or touched, or sneezed on the food before you put it on your plate.”
