He wrote on the pad for a few minutes. “This is what I want you to tell the guy on the other end when you make the call.”
Lisa took the pad and read. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’m setting up a personal meeting for you. A meeting where you’ll be protected in case the phone for the Witness Protection people is bugged or the call was traced somehow. You just tell the person on the other end what’s on that paper and nothing more. Okay?”
“Okay.” She put down the pad and Hammer picked it up, reading it himself. He smiled. “Pretty neat, Chief. What do you want me to do?”
“You stay with me. We’re going to be the inside protection.”
Chapter Eight
FORT BRAGG
30 OCTOBER, 2:45 p.m.
The elevator opened on the second floor of Moon Hall and Riley glanced out, checking the hallway. It was clear. “Let’s go.”
Lisa Cobb was right behind him, and Hammer brought up the rear. Three halls branched off in varying directions, one to the far right, one half-right, and one half-left. Riley took the far right. With Hammer keeping watch back to the lobby, Riley knelt at the first door and pulled out one of the pieces of equipment he had borrowed from his friend at the counterterrorist committee. A piece of plastic, the size of a credit card, was attached by two thin wires to what looked like a hand-sized calculator. After turning on the small computer, Riley put the card in the electronic lock at the bottom of the door and slowly slid it up. It sensed the access code in reverse. Riley pushed a button and the computer reversed the code, then he slid the card back down. The green light on the lock flickered and they were in the room within three seconds.
Six stories high, Moon Hall stood on a hill overlooking the old post exchange (PX) on one side and on the other side the “Puzzle Palace,” which used to be U.S. Special Operations Command (US SOCOM). It was flanked by Hardy Hall, the other guest quarters, a mirror image of Moon Hall. Hundreds of personnel flowed through the two buildings weekly, and Riley figured that calling from here was the safest place possible.
The room they entered was obviously unoccupied—the two beds made and no sign of luggage—verifying what he had learned by calling this room from the lobby phone. He asked Lisa to sit on the bed next to the phone and placed next to her the pad of paper on which he had written the instructions.
She took the phone and dialed the 800 number on the card. The same mechanical voice answered and she punched in the code. This time it was answered on the first ring.
“Yes?”
She recognized the bored voice with the New England accent. “This is Mrs. Cobb. Is this Simon?”
“Mrs. Cobb! Where are you? We sent people to pick you up two nights ago, but you were gone. There were state police all over the place.”
“I was attacked at the rest area. It wasn’t safe to stay there.”
“Are you all right? Where are you now? I’ll get people to you right away.”
Riley had been leaning over her shoulder, listening to the conversation. He pointed down at the notepad, and she began to read.
“I’ll meet you in the parking lot for the old PX at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.”
“What?” The voice sounded confused.
“Between six and ten this evening, eastern standard time. The parking lot for the old PX at Fort Bragg. Go through Fayetteville on Route four-oh-one. Get off on All American Freeway to Fort Bragg. When the freeway ends, take a left on Community Access Road. A left on Bastogne. The old PX is on your left. Go into the parking lot and park facing away from the building, with lights off. Every fifteen minutes exactly, starting at six o’clock, turn your lights on for exactly one minute and then off. If it’s safe, I’ll come to the car.
“You are to put no surveillance on the site—just the one car to make the meet. Any sign of surveillance and I will not come out to meet you.”
“That’s not safe, Mrs. Cobb!” Simon protested. “Why don’t—”
“No other vehicles besides the one I meet,” Lisa repeated. She continued reading. “If for any reason the meeting is cancelled, I will call you back to rearrange another meeting.”
“Wait a second, Mrs. Cobb. Why don’t we just come to you wherever you are now?”
“We tried that once,” Lisa said, sounding exasperated. “This time we do it my way. Did you get all that?”
Riley started scribbling on the paper: HE GOT IT ON TAPE! HANG UP!
“Good-bye, Simon.”
“But Mrs. Cobb, wait—”
Lisa put down the phone and looked up at Riley. “Are you sure they have it?”
Riley nodded. “They not only have it, but they also have this phone number. Time to go.”
CHICAGO
30 OCTOBER, 3:10 p.m. CENTRAL TIME
On the eighth ring, Giannini reluctantly hung up the portable phone as she negotiated the Dan Ryan Expressway. Where was he? This was the third time she’d tried Tom’s number. Giannini pushed the power-off button and dropped the phone on the passenger seat. Guyton’s actions had bothered her, especially piled on top of the missing pages from the Torrentino file.
Trying not to give in to wild speculation, Giannini concentrated on what she did know: Lisa Cobb was safe with Riley. The only link to Lisa was her brother, but Giannini was the cut-out on that, having never told Tom who she was contacting to help his sister. The problem, and the reason she was driving south of Chicago, was that Tom was the most likely point of contact for anyone trying to find Lisa. Lisa and Tom’s parents were dead, and they were the only children. Giannini knew it wouldn’t take very long for another interested party with the right connections to find out these facts and track down Tom.
Giannini grabbed the phone and dialed a new number—long distance. This time the other end was picked up.
“Hello?”
“Dave, it’s Donna.”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“I just had a look at Jill Fastone’s body.”
“What?”
“Someone shot her between the eyes and dumped her body here in Chicago. I don’t know time of death, but I’m assuming she was killed after coming back here from North Carolina.”
“Any idea who did it?”
“Must have been the mob.”
“But I thought she was working for them. I thought she led them to our friend.”
“I thought so too. Maybe they just got pissed when they didn’t get both of the Cobbs. Maybe they just wanted to get rid of a witness. I don’t know what’s going on, but this thing is getting deeper by the minute.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to talk to Lisa’s brother. He’s Lisa’s only living immediate family and he’s the only link between her and me, and subsequently you. I want to make sure he’s safe.”
“You make sure you’re safe,” Riley replied.
“What about you all?” Giannini asked.
“We’ve set up a meet for early this evening with the feds, so Lisa should be in the clear by then and I’ll be out of it. Don’t worry about us; we can take care of ourselves. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes to set up our surveillance of the meeting site.”
“All right. Give me a call tonight to let me know how it went.”
“I’ll do that.” Giannini put down the phone and drove a little faster.
FORT BRAGG
30 OCTOBER, 5:27 p.m. EASTERN TIME
Riley sat in the corner booth, flanking the front window of the NCO club—Lisa to his right, Hammer on the other side, watching the doors to the bar. Riley’s attention was focused on the old PX parking lot across the street. He looked up as a figure approached the table in the dimly lit lounge. Hammer tensed, his eyes taking in the uniform, while his fingers caressed the .44 magnum revolver he had hidden underneath the table. The muzzle was angled up, pointing directly at the newcomer’s stomach.
“Master Sergeant Martin,” Riley greeted the man without rising. Riley nodded at the empty space next to Hammer. “Have a seat.”
Martin slid in, noticing the glasses of water in front of the three people. It was a rather unusual sight in the NCO bar, where the just-off-duty crowd was already raising the noise level with the thud of beer mugs on the tables and the bar. Martin was obviously not comfortable with the choice of meeting location.
“I’ve got my students waiting over at the ACFAC. I told them everything you gave me this morning. The only thing I didn’t tell them—because you didn’t tell me—was where we’re meeting and what they’re supposed to be looking for.”
Riley pointed out the tinted window, across Reilly Road. “We’ve got a personal meeting set up for any time between eighteen hundred and twenty-two hundred. One vehicle in the old PX lot, facing this way. Lights will be turned on for one minute, every fifteen minutes. We’re not going to initiate the meet until twenty thirty. I want your people to make sure that no one else is watching the lot during the two and a half hours before we make contact.”
“Like who else?” Martin inquired.
Riley shrugged. “Anyone. Even MPs. Watch for static surveillance and also rolling surveillance—they may even use multiple vehicles in rotation. It’s most likely that any surveillance will be nonmilitary and not have post decals.” Riley pointed. “I want the woods there to the right of the bank covered also. It’s a good place to put someone to eyeball the lot. There should be no one in there this time of day. Your men need to be in place by seventeen fifty.”
Martin reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out a pair of small handheld two-way radios. He gave them to Riley. “They’re set on the proper frequency. My call sign is Eagle One. My surveillance teams are Eagle Two through Seven. Your call sign is Bear One and Two.”
Riley flicked on the radios, pressed the send to check for a hiss of static, then turned them off. “One last thing, Top,” he said, stopping the master sergeant as he was about to leave the booth. “Make sure you emphasize to your people that if they spot anything, they are simply to call it in. Under no circumstances are they to make contact with anyone they spot. No matter what they see. Is that clear?”
Martin paused and then sank back down on the worn leather seat. “These students are my responsibility, Chief. I’d appreciate it if you would tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t do that, Top.”
Martin wasn’t going to be dissuaded so easily. “Then at least tell me if this is real world.” He tilted his head slightly toward Hammer, who had remained silent throughout, his eyes scanning the inside of the bar. “Your friend here has been playing with something under the table the whole time I’ve been talking to you, and I don’t think it’s his dick.”
Riley realized that Martin’s request was reasonable. “This is real world. There’s a possibility that some armed personnel may show up who aren’t exactly friendly to the lady here.”
Martin looked at Lisa, then back at Riley. “This some sort of divorce crap or something?” The tone of his voice indicated his displeasure.
“I assure you it isn’t anything like that, Top,” Riley said. “I can’t tell you exactly what’s going on for security reasons, but suffice it to say that there’s a federal agency involved in this personal meeting, and we’re trying to pass this lady over to them. We just want to make sure it goes smoothly. The last time it was tried, the whole thing went to shit and someone died.”
Martin’s eyes narrowed. He stared at Riley and then Lisa for a few seconds. “Sergeant Major Alexander said to do whatever you asked. He also said I should trust you. That’s good enough for me. I’ll tell my people to keep their eyes open and their dick out of the wringer if it gets cranked up.”
“Thanks, Top.”
Hammer watched Martin’s retreating back, then turned to Riley. “You sure command a lot of respect around here.”
“I’ve worked with good people,” Riley replied.
“Uh-huh” was Hammer’s only comment. He glanced at Lisa. “How are you doing?”
She’d washed her clothes at Riley’s apartment, but the dark circles under her eyes were a clear indicator that she needed rest. “All right, I guess. I just want this to be over.”
Riley tapped his watch. “Another three hours and it should be. I think everything will turn out all right.” He ordered another round of soda and water, then looked at Lisa. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did all this get started? Donna told me your husband turned state’s evidence against the mob, but how did he get in the position to do that in the first place?”
Lisa hesitated for a long time, then spoke. “I think you deserve to know, even though it’s not something I enjoy talking about. I only found out what happened after the mob tried killing Philip the first time, as he was coming out of Jill Fastone’s apartment. She was the person who brought him into the whole mess.”
“What exactly did your husband do for the mob?” Hammer asked.
“He did quite a few things. He was a real estate developer, which meant he handled numerous business transactions involving a lot of money. So he was the perfect conduit for the Torrentino gang: he could funnel their dirty money and make it come out clean. There were a lot of ways he could do that, and a lot of ways he could kick the money back to the Torrentinos—most of the time with a profit.” Lisa shook her head bitterly. “With real estate and money, Philip was very smart. It was in other areas that he wasn’t so bright. I don’t know— I suppose if I had paid more attention, and if things with Melissa hadn’t gotten so—”