“What? I have no idea. Crap. We need his fingerprint. There’s got to be a way to get this open. Maybe what’s behind this door will give us what we’re looking for.”
“And what exactly are we looking for again?”
“Something!” CJ tried to control her voice. “We’ll know it when we find it. I can’t help believing that there is something much bigger going on.”
“Okay, but how do you propose that we get past this safety device?” Colin was stabbing his finger on the keypad, illustrating the lack of response he was getting from the lock.
“Wait! Maybe we can get a fingerprint from one of Snapper’s bottles or glasses,” she said, eyeing the bar.
“Oh my God. Do you really think that kind of stuff works in the real world?”
“Yes. I think it’s called latent prints or something like that.” CJ went to the kitchen and rifled through a drawer, looking for Scotch Tape, as Colin threw himself on the black-leather sofa and buried his head in his hands.
“Look. I have a very good friend at the FBI. Maybe he can help us out without our becoming criminals.” Colin was trying to think logically about how to proceed with this madcap scheme.
“What are you going to tell him? I’m on a mission of paranoia?”
“No. I’ll tell him you’re trying to get the congressman’s estate in order and that while you were here, you came across this lock that you do not know how to open since there was no key for it. The fact that you are already legitimately in the condo means that he should not have any suspicion about what you are doing. Let me give him a call and see what advice he can give us.”
CJ looked at him warily but consented. “Okay, but make it convincing about my getting his affairs in order. And that I’m not playing amateur sleuth. Besides, I really am trying to get his affairs in order.”
Colin pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial for his friend Matt. “Matt? Colin. Yeah, I heard they announced Congressman Lewis’s suicide earlier today. CJ? She’s pretty upset. That’s one reason I’m calling. She has keys to his condo and needs to get paperwork and some other personal things, but there’s a lock that requires a fingerprint . . . yes, a Sargent and Greenleaf. Uh-huh. Okay.” Colin was gesturing for CJ to come closer. “Sure. An hour? Yes. The Watergate. Great. Thanks, I’ll let her know.”
“What? What did he say?” She was pulling on his shirtsleeve like a kid begging for attention.
“He’s going to meet you here in an hour. Try to act like you’re just doing your job. Your real job.”
“But what if what’s behind the door is something awful? We don’t necessarily want him to find out what’s there.”
“He doesn’t have a warrant, so he has no legal grounds to be looking for anything. He’s just coming by as a favor to give you advice as to how to get the lock open. Just stay cool until he gets here and we have a better idea how to proceed.”
“I don’t like any of this, but we have to get to the other side of that door.”
An hour later, Matt showed his badge to the security guard at the checkpoint in the lobby and was directed to the correct elevator. When CJ got the call from the lobby that Agent Mullan was on his way up, she went to stand in the doorway and wait, trying to seem casual.
She offered her hand. “Hey, Matt, thanks for stopping by. I have to get a bunch of files and paperwork, and I don’t have the combo to this one door. Please come in.”
“Colin. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Agent Matthew Mullan looked quizzically at Colin, then at CJ.
“He’s here for moral support. It’s been very upsetting. When I realized I couldn’t get past that lock, I called Colin, and he suggested calling you since you’re the super G-man!” Trying to mask her nerves with a compliment, CJ smiled and moved aside so that Matt could enter.
“Yes, I can see where it would be a very disturbing situation.” As he entered, Mullan instinctively followed his training and did a thorough scan of the room. “You would never have thought Congressman Lewis would come to such a tragic end.”
Taking a very deep breath, CJ tried to hide all of her emotions. “To be honest, I find it very hard to believe.” Then she realized that her mouth was in danger of becoming a runaway train, so she stopped herself from continuing to voice her suspicions about Snapper’s demise.
“So let’s take a look at the security lock and see whom I can recommend.” Mullan was still checking out the surroundings. Snapper had been a very organized man, both at home and his office. Not a thing was out of place.
CJ motioned to the mysterious door. Her nerves were on edge. Her inner self was nagging at her again. Why would he have something like that when this building is like Fort Knox? it seemed to be asking.
“Looks like the standard S and G high-security lock, but we have someone on staff who can manage to open this.” Scrutinizing the room once again, Mullan continued, “I’m sure we can get some prints off his personal belongings.”
“See! I told you they can do that kind of thing.” CJ was feeling rather vindicated as she gave Colin her “I told you so” look. Turning to face Matt, she asked, “How soon could they get here?”
“Let me give him a call. I suppose we can consider this official business since he was a member of Congress.”
CJ was getting nervous. What if there was something incriminating behind the door? It had to be pretty serious for Snapper to have installed that kind of lock. She was beginning to regret having had Colin make the call.
“Uh, does it have to be official business? I mean, what if it’s something very personal that he wouldn’t want people to know about? It seems pretty obvious he didn’t want easy access to it. I’m really not sure what to do.”
Mullan took a deep breath. “I understand your wanting to maintain his privacy. And since it was a suicide, there is no reason for the authorities to get involved. This would just be a courtesy out of respect for Congressman Lewis and his family.”
CJ was still uneasy about having someone from the government intruding into business that Snapper clearly wanted no one to know about. “Matt, I mean Agent Mullan”—CJ was vacillating between casual frenzy and professional respect—“I’m not sure about this. I know Colin called you as a friend, but I’d rather just hire a locksmith to work on that thing. I really only wanted to find out if there was an easy way to open it. We . . . I have something similar where I live—my brother had it installed. Maybe I should get in touch with them. I’m sorry for inconveniencing you. I should never have asked Colin to bother you with this. I guess I just wasn’t thinking straight.” Her mouth was moving faster than she wanted.
Mullan looked over at Colin, who gave him the “it’s okay” look, which was not lost on CJ. “Oh. Wait. You two?” she said.
“You two, what?” Suddenly realizing his relationship with Mullan was about to be exposed, Colin’s face turned red, and both men became a little uneasy. Colin had wanted to tell CJ that he had met someone but wasn’t sure if CJ was ready. It had been four years since Kick had died, and the loneliness had only added to his depression.
Matthew Mullan and Colin had met at a Gay Pride gala in Truro on Cape Cod several years before Kick died. After Kick’s death, Matt had reached out to offer his condolences, and they started an innocent friendship. Matt was not out of the closet since being gay was not something that helped one’s career in the Bureau. Since making friends wasn’t easy for Colin, he appreciated a sympathetic ear. After almost four years of hanging out as friends, it looked like their relationship was about to enter into a more serious phase.
“So, how long have the two of you known each other?” CJ was pulling out her detective hat again.
“We actually first met a number of years ago, when Kick sponsored that fund-raiser in Truro. After Kick died, Matt and I started hanging out. It was a rough time for all of us, and I appreciated his company.”
“And I appreciated his discretion,” Mullan added, trying to get past this rather awkward moment.
> CJ looked at Mullan, then at Colin. “Hey, guys, I think it’s great that you found one another, but jeez, Colin, you could have told me.” CJ was beginning to soften again.
Both men heaved a big sigh of relief. “This is why I wasn’t concerned about asking Matt to come over. He knows how to be circumspect.”
“Okay, so let’s get this show on the road. What do we need to do to get through this barricade?” CJ was becoming more and more relaxed over the bizarre situation.
“Let me call my guy in the office.” Agent Mullan pulled out his cell and pulled up his contacts list. “Gus? It’s Matt. Matt Mullan. Yeah. Hey. Listen, I am at Congressman Lewis’s residence. Yes, he did. I know. Sad. I’m with his chief of staff, Carol Anne Jansen. She’s here trying to get his personal affairs in order, but there’s a door with a Sargent and Greenleaf lock. Yeah, fingerprint. Can you get over to the Watergate and give her a hand?” Mullan turned toward CJ, and asked, “How long will you be here?”
“As long as I have to be.”
“She said she’ll be here as long as necessary,” Mullan continued on the phone. “How soon could you get here? An hour?” Looking at CJ at the same time, she gave a thumbs-up. “Okay great. Don’t worry about the paperwork. I’ll take care of it. Sure thing. Thanks.”
“Great. Thank you so much.” Relief was pouring from CJ. Knowing that Mullan was an ally took away a lot of the trepidation she had been feeling. “Will you wait?”
“Sure. I don’t have to be back until two. Some kind of big meeting with the department heads.” Mullan was much more casual now.
An hour later, the phone rang to announce the locksmith’s arrival. Mullan answered the door and ushered him toward the offending door lock.
“Yeah. Seen a lot of these lately. I guess in this town, no one feels safe.” The locksmith was wearing a very official FBI jumpsuit and carrying a very official-looking case. Addressing CJ, he asked, “Ma’am, do I have your permission to open this lock? Sorry, but it’s standard procedure to ask.”
The question did seem rather foolish, but it was the government after all. “Oh, for goodness sake. Of course.” CJ was beginning to feel that sense of foreboding again, knowing something unseemly could be lurking behind that mysterious door.
It took less than a few minutes for the locksmith to peel some prints off a bottle on the bar and transfer them onto another piece of glass, then he used some kind of algorithm to unlock the door.
As the door swung open they peered inside to find a staircase leading to the floor below.
“What in the hell is this?” CJ’s mind was racing.
Chapter 8
Everyone had a shocked and questioning expression at the discovery. CJ peered into the stairwell, not sure whether she should be the first one to descend or if she should slam the door shut and turn everyone away. What can be down there?
Agent Mullan took charge and offered to check. “Would you like me to proceed?”
Not sure of what they would find, CJ gave Colin a begging look. “Let me go. I don’t think there will be anything dangerous. It’s probably just another part of Snapper’s condo.” With trepidation, Colin took the first few steps, CJ following close behind.
“Agent Mullan, would you mind waiting at the top of the stairs? I think we’ll be okay. We’ll yell if we need you.” CJ was much more concerned about finding something incriminating rather than someone with a weapon or some sort of Raiders of the Lost Ark booby traps.
“Roger that,” Mullan announced as he waved off the locksmith. “Send the paperwork to my attention. And thanks for coming.
“You sure you guys are going to be okay down there? I do have a gun.” Mullan was trying to be reassuring.
“We’ll be fine.” CJ’s voice began to turn into a whisper. “What in the hell? This looks like a completely different condo. He never mentioned any of this to me.”
“It’s a little stuffy,” Colin said, sniffing the air. “And there’s no odor of cologne, crappy or otherwise. Almost like no one lives here, but everything seems to be in place. You don’t think Snapper was hiding something down here, do you?”
“Like what?” CJ still could not wrap her head around this mysterious place. Clearly, it was a condo. But whose?
“I don’t know. Obviously, he was hiding something down here. Why else would he have a high-security lock on the door? Check out the front door and see if it’s bolted.” Colin was the one giving orders now.
CJ cautiously walked toward the front entrance and could see it was double-bolted from the inside. “Well, no one was getting in from this door either.”
The apartment was austere, the furnishings an absolute minimum. It felt as if no one had lived there for a while. Years. There was some dust but no signs of life in the kitchen or the bathroom. It was almost as if it was a model apartment—something to show to renters or prospective owners. Colin had been looking through the closets. “Nothing here. No clothes, no toothbrushes. Nada.”
It was very odd, and CJ was becoming very uneasy. She made her way toward the desk. “Huh. Look at this. A computer. I’m sure it’s password protected, too.” CJ tried typing in the few passwords Snapper had entrusted her with. “Son of a bitch. What could he have been working on?” she said absentmindedly.
“Robotron?” Colin came up with the most logical answer. “Check the drawers. Maybe there’ll be a clue for the password.”
CJ opened the first drawer and found pencils, some paper clips, a pad, and rubber bands. When she tried to open the file drawer, she realized that it, too, was locked. “Ugh!”
“You guys okay down there?” Mullan had been waiting patiently at the top of the stairs.
“Yeah.” Colin turned to CJ. “Maybe we should have him come down and give us a hand.”
“But what if we find something illegal? Wouldn’t he be bound to call it in or something?”
“I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.” Colin ran up the stairs to talk to Matt. “CJ’s concerned about your position. What if we find something that’s not quite on the up-and-up?”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea. This is like a treasure hunt, or something. Maybe not so much a treasure? Anyway, what do you think? Are you required by law to confiscate anything?”
“That’s a bizarre question, but given the circumstances, nothing seems too bizarre at the moment.”
Colin lowered his voice. “Listen. CJ thinks Snapper was murdered.”
“Seriously?” Mullan clearly hadn’t contemplated anything like that.
“Yes. That’s really why we’re here. She thinks someone killed him and made it look like a suicide. She was afraid to tell the police for fear they’d think she was just going through another state of grief and shock.”
“I can understand that for sure. All of it. But why does she think he was murdered?”
“She overheard him arguing with someone in his office one night when she wasn’t supposed to be there. Something about Robotron, and the guy Snapper was arguing with smelled like a French whorehouse, or at least that’s how she described the odor to the security guy at the Rayburn House Office Building.”
“Hold on a minute. Robotron and a whorehouse?” Mullan seemed more confused by the minute.
“Yeah. Maybe I should have her explain it to you. Wait here for a few minutes. Let me go check on her.”
When Colin returned, he found CJ sitting at the desk, the lock jimmied with a screwdriver she had found under the kitchen sink. She was staring at a pile of folders, particularly the one with her name on it.
“Well, breaking and entering can now be added to your résumé,” Colin tried to joke.
“Try dossier. Snapper had a file on me.” CJ was crestfallen. She had no idea why he would have it, or why he would have kept it. She had been a loyal employee for twelve years.
“A what? Dossier? Why on earth would he have that?” Colin came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. “It doesn’t look very incriminating. Ma
ybe he kept files on everyone. He was in the business of politics, and you know it’s hard to find people you can trust in this town.”
“Exactly. Didn’t he trust me?”
“I’m sure he did. You said he let you keep copies of his calendar, and you do have some of his passwords. Did you figure out the one for the computer?”
“Not yet. But there was also this photo of him and some guy in the drawer. It looks like they’re on an airboat, somewhere in a swamp.”
“Didn’t he used to go to the Everglades once in a while to fish or whatever they do there? Catch alligators or something?”
“Yeah. He used to go, but it’s probably been five years. He’d meet up with a friend, and they’d go ‘gator hunting,’ but they only took photos. Snapper wasn’t into killing anything. In fact, that’s how he got the nickname ‘Snapper. ’ He was always snapping photographs. But everyone thought it was because he would snap at people he disagreed with, and he had no incentive to disabuse anyone of that notion.”
Suddenly, a thought struck her. “Gator.” She typed that into the keyboard, and a screen popped up. There was an odd icon that she double-clicked.
“Holy smoke! What in the world is this?” CJ found herself staring at what looked like the big board on Wall Street.
“That’s a trading site. It’s for people who want to place trades with their brokers, but it’s anonymous. It’s like Snapchat. The message disappears after you send it. No copies of anything. No server. Nothing. It’s the ‘dark Web’ of finances. That’s how people move money to foreign accounts or accounts where they don’t want a direct trail back to them.”
“This is all very confusing. I’ve never heard of this.” CJ wasn’t sure if she should touch any of it, not knowing what it was or what it could reveal.
She moved the mouse over to a folder with the label “George” on it and clicked. There were subfolders with names like “doctors,” “nursing staff,” “hospitals,” “medical equipment,” “Sun Valley Institute.” Each folder contained invoices that at first glance totaled tens of thousands of dollars. Hundreds of thousands. But each invoice also said “George Lewis.”
Deep Harbor Page 7
