Deadly Little Secrets (12 page)

Two uniformed guards exploded from the door to the building, racing for her car.

“Ma'am? Are you all right?” one snapped, opening her door, reaching for her wrist. “Do you need the EMTs?”

“No, no,” she said, panting in reaction. She thanked dispatch and hung up to talk to the guards. “I'm fine. Just scared shitless. Bullet's in the headrest,” she squeaked, throwing open the door so she could get as far away as possible from the bullet. She stood up, then regretted it because now that the danger was passed, she felt faint.

Get it together, Burton. You have to keep it solid. Breathe, girl.

“Outside perimeter alert's found nothing, ma'am,” the other guard said. “I'm going to pull in over there.” He pointed to an open area, usually reserved for confidential visitor's vehicles or other uses. “We'll get the team down here and get that bullet. Should be able to get someone over here to fix the window for you too.” He glanced at his watch, winced. “Shit. Oh, sorry, ma'am. Probably not today though. Too late.”

“S'okay, I'm feeling pretty much like screaming that very word right now. Oh, hell,” she said, leaning on the car and bending forward to counteract the faintness. “Wow, never come that close before. You know all that stuff they say about your life flashing before your eyes?”

The guard nodded.

“It may not happen right at the moment, but it sure does hit you when you're done. Whew.”

The younger of the two men took her arm and helped her to the bench by the elevator. “Here, grab a seat. I'll get your things for you, okay?”

“Thanks,” she managed before easing down onto the bench. The guard followed her car over to the reserved space, and retrieved her briefcase, purse, and files.

“You okay to leave the keys with us?” the younger one said, holding them out. “Or if you need the other keys, you can take the car key off.”

“Oh, sure.” She detached the car key and handed it to him. “Sorry, should have thought of that.” More people were pouring out of the elevators now, including techs and another pair of security guys.

“Wow,” the other guard said, peering at the headrest. He pointed at the passenger-side headrest, set equal with the driver's side. A large hole showed the path of the bullet from one headrest to the next.

“Long-range rifle,” the older guard asserted. “You said kill shot. I think you were right.” He cocked his head. “No offense, but how the hell did they miss you?”

Ana braced her knees, which had begun to knock again. “Window jammed. I leaned forward and took my foot off the brake. Car rolled forward.”

The man whistled. “Better thank your guardian angel for that one,” he muttered.

“Believe me, I will,” she said. “Thanks for handling this.” She gave him her floor, department, codes, and numbers. It took another twenty minutes for the techs to finish asking questions, but once they had her info, they passed her to go to her office. She was so grateful, she could've kissed them.

“Thanks again, guys,” she said, getting her things and calling the elevator.

“Welcome,” one tech said, watching her as she turned away.

She'd blanked out the mutters and discussion of the other people in the garage, as they were debriefed—a quick process since they didn't know anything—but she was glad none of them were left to ride up with her. All she wanted was to get to her desk, put her head down for a moment. Maybe let the shaking pass. If it would.

The elevator moved like molasses, as it climbed to the fifth floor.

“Please hurry,” she implored, feeling the tears of reaction threatening to burst through the dam she'd built as she answered questions and given her statement. “C'mon, c'mon.” Maybe she should go to the bathroom first. No way she wanted Pretzky or worse yet, that slimeball Davis, to see her crying.
“Come ON.”

Unfortunately, the doors opened on chaos.

“Burton!” Pretzky shouted her name, before Ana could take in the scene. “Get over here. You're a computer whiz, figure out what the hell's going on here, damn it.”

Ana took a staggering step off the elevator, feeling like her head was going to explode. Shot at, then this, with no time to recover? What the hell had she opened up with this case?

“What's wrong with you, woman?” Pretzky demanded as she grabbed Ana's arm and dragged her to a terminal. “Look at this. What the hell?”

Data scrolled over the screen in random patterns. File boxes would appear, then blip out and reappear.

“Shit, we're being hacked. Why hasn't the IT department shut it down?” Ana cursed. Greek and Italian expletives mixed with English as she dropped everything and started pounding the keys.

“Call IT, Pretzky. Shut us down,
now.
” When the woman hesitated, she shouted, “NOW or all our data could be compromised!”

“I'm on with them,” Pearson appeared at her elbow as she entered command after command, trying to block access to files as best she could. She was making some headway, but IT's own blocks were hampering her efforts. Their fixes blocked her from doing anything as well. “IT says they're shutting us down as fast as they can. They said for you to keep…” She stopped, listening to someone on the phone. “They're cutting it…now.”

The screens all over the office went dark. The hot hum of conversation stopped, and the three women, Ana, Pearson, and Pretzky, stood in a ring of watching, silent agents.

“Yeah,” Pearson said into the phone. “Thanks. I'll tell them. Yeah. Bye.”

“Well?” Pretzky demanded.

“IT says they have it isolated and are tracing it back. No data lost, but it was a close call. It was only our files, our floor.” After dropping that bomb, Pearson turned to Ana. “The guy in IT, Monroe, said to tell you thanks for the blocks you threw up.”

Ana nodded, then staggered. She felt the wave of faintness slide over her, and she slid into a chair.

“Oh, God,” she mumbled, dropping her head down again, between her knees.
Oh, God, please don't let me faint now. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

“What the hell?” Pretzky was at her side in two strides. “What's wrong? Pearson?”

“No idea,” Pearson murmured, bracketing Ana, resting a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“Got shot at coming into the garage.” Ana managed to get the words out from between chattering teeth. “Just now, coming back from my meeting. Security's got my car.” She added the inane detail for lack of anything else to say. “That's where I've been. In the garage, giving a report.”

“Shot at?”
Pretzky got shrill now. The computer issue was set aside. Obviously hacking was a pisser, but news of one of her agents being shot at seemed to insult her to her core. “Who? When? Where?”

The three W's.
Ana realized the random amusement was a form of hysteria, and she locked it down.

“Sorry,” she said, her voice still shaky as she eased up to a sitting position. Pearson kept a bracing hand on her shoulder, and Ana couldn't believe how much it helped. “It uh…hit me,” she began, wanting desperately to weep, to scream out her fear.

“You're hit?” Pretzky crouched down. “Where?”

“No, no. I'm okay. I mean the reaction. It hit me, just as I came off the elevator. I was gonna go sit down, have a private moment to get the shakes out of my system.”

Now she was the center of attention. For the first time, she saw camaraderie and concern on the faces of her colleagues. Evidently, no matter what she'd done in Rome, they would close ranks when anyone outside the organization took pot shots at one of their own.

Somehow, it was reassuring. Ana straightened her spine and managed a smile. “First time, getting shot at,” she said, not meeting anyone's eyes. “Gotta say, it pretty much sucks.”

That got a few laughs, and some conversations broke out. “They comin' up to debrief you?”

She nodded. “I guess someone will. Got the short version over with in the garage. Not much to debrief. I was key-coding into the garage. If my window hadn't jammed, I'd be in a body bag.”

“That's enough.” Pretzky cut her off. “Everyone get back to work, now.” She rested a hand on Ana's other shoulder, gave the faintest squeeze. “Let her tell it to IAD first.”

Internal affairs. Yep. They'd be right along. Ana sighed. Great. More questions.

About then, her mind started working again, revolving back to what she'd been wondering when the IT systems alerted. Her brain might be on slow mode, but her mind was now full of questions.

Shit, shit, shit. What had she gotten into? Was it Rome? Was it the fraud case? Was it merely visiting with Gianikopolis? SHIT.

“And like clockwork,” Pearson muttered, as the elevator dinged and three agents stepped off. Two of them hesitated, scanning the room, obviously noting the dark monitors, the grouping around Ana.

“Special Agent,” they both acknowledged Pretzky. “We need to talk to Agent Burton.”

“Of course. You'll note, all of our computers are dark, Agents. We just had an attempt to breach our computer security, just about the time Agent Burton was shot at.”

“Noted,” the darker agent said. “I'm Keyes.” He held his hand out, and Pretzky shook it with obvious reluctance. No one liked IAD, even though they were necessary.

“Charles,” the other agent said, but didn't offer a hand. “Conference room?”

Everyone turned to the third agent, who was nervously tapping a pen on the top of a cubicle wall. “Oh,” he said, when he realized everyone was waiting for him to identify himself. “I'm Perkins, from IT. I heard there was a problem, and headed up, but,” he looked around. “Seems like they shut you down all the way.”

“They did,” Pretzky stated. “You need anything else?”

Perkins managed a nervous negative bob of his head. “Uh, guess not. No. I'll just be going.” He pointed at the elevators and, as fast as he could, got in a waiting car and left. Everyone sat in silence for a heartbeat. Ana wondered what the hell the guy had wanted, or thought he could do. She rubbed the back of her neck, wishing she had some Advil. Her head was pounding, and her muscles were as tight as a drum.

“Well, if that's all on IT,” Pretzky broke the silence. “Let's get the debrief over with. This way.” Pretzky pointed them all toward the small glassed-in conference room. “Agent?” she waited as Ana gathered her things, then motioned her forward as well. “I'll sit in.”

“There's no need—” IAD Agent Charles began, but Pretzky cut her off.

“Yes. There is. If there's an issue here, the buck stops with me.”

To her surprise, Pretzky stayed for the entire interview. Ana laid out her movements over the last seventy-two hours, going back a bit to include the trip to the gallery. She didn't mention she'd used an alias, but that would only mean a wrist slap if it came out later. Pretzky didn't mention it either, so she figured it wasn't a major problem.

“This case you're on, the cold one,” IAD Agent Keyes asked, watching her closely, “do you think it's the cause of this incident?”

“As I've already said,” Ana clenched her teeth, desperately holding onto a level tone, “I don't know. It could be something from the incident in Rome. It could be something from this cold case. I've been making calls and contacting victims for nearly two weeks. It could be something connected with Mr. Gianikopolis. He's known to have a number of enemies, according to his security people. I was there to interview him, and did so. It could also be from my contact with any one of these high-profile, highly sensitive individuals. Have to say, though, that I haven't had any issues on Rome and nothing like this has come up until I pulled this case.”

“You're an analyst,” Charles interjected. “Trained to assess these kinds of events.”

She didn't look at anyone but Keyes, focused on him. “I can't speculate on which case this incident is related to without more data about the weapon, the triangulation of the shot, and anything recovered from the round. As to the forensics of the computer hacking it's remotely possible the two things are related. Then again, they may be coincidental. I'm not privy to what other people in my department are working on. Something from one of their cases may have triggered it rather than anything I'm doing.”

She managed not to shudder at the thought of the bullet, but addressed that one too. “As to the shot, I may not be the target. In fact, I'm probably not. I'm not working on anything volatile, to my knowledge. Besides, five other agents drive the same make, general color, and model car I do. Two drive the same model year.” She actually relaxed a bit as she said that, realizing the attempted hit could have been a mistake. A shot meant for someone else.

Of course that meant someone else was in danger, but it was a relief to think she wasn't a target.

Pretzky shifted positions so that Ana could see her without turning. The faintest of smiles twitched her lips, and one eyelid closed in a subtle wink.

She cloaked her surprise with a cough, took a sip of Mountain Dew from the cup at her elbow. Pearson had brought it in. Another surprise. Apparently, the ladies of the fifth floor were closing ranks for her.

“Thank you, Agent Burton,” Agent Charles said after the silence had drawn out to irritating proportions. “We'll follow up with you when and if we need additional data, or have data to give you. Let us know if you receive any communiqués, contacts.” Charles stopped, smiled briefly. “You know the drill.”

“Yes, I do. And yes, I will.” She stood and shook hands with both agents and remained standing until the door whispered shut behind them.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Pretzky ordered. “You eat yet?”

“Yeah,” Ana managed to reply before she put her head on the table. “I'm just whipped. Like I said. Never been shot at before. Pretty much sucks to be grilled on top of it too. Hate that part.”