Authors: Kyle Mills
He let the photos fall from his hand and pulled out a tape measure , using it to determine the dimensions of the tiny attic. If Stran d wanted a fight, he'd goddamn well get one.
Chapter
Five.
Despite his third hangover in as many days, Matt Egan pushed throug h the door of OSPA's office suite at seven a . M
. Kelly Braith, the offic e receptionist, was already talking on her headset but still managed t o flash him a wide smile and a wave as he stalked toward the copy roo m for more coffee.
After topping off his go-cup, which some office smart-ass had covere d in Elise Egan stickers, he wandered down an empty hallway only to fin d Hillel Strand already talking to his assistant behind the conferenc e room's soundproof glass. He seemed pretty intent on what he was sayin g and Egan sped up, trying to get by without being seen. He was nowher e near caffeinated enough yet to face anything more serious than hi s mail.
He'd actually made it past the large window before the unmistakabl e sound of knuckles on glass stopped him. When he turned around, Stran d was waving him back.
Fabulous.
"Morning," Egan said as he stepped through the door and closed i t behind him.
Strand looked smug and Lauren wouldn't meet his eye. Not a goo d sign.
"We've come up with something on al Fayed that I think will interes t you," Strand said, pointing to an empty chair and then motioning towar d his assistant.
She started slowly, never taking her eyes from the stack of papers i n her lap. "It wasn't easy, but I was finally able to connec t everything. Al Fayed went to Bogota after he walked away from the CIA.
When he was there or possibly before he went to work for the Vel a cartel." Her mouth seemed to suddenly dry out and she took a sip fro m a glass of water in front of her.
"It seems that he killed off some of Vela's local competitors an d scared the hell out of the others. It's likely that he, in combinatio n with Castel Vela's head for business, is responsible for a lot of th e cartel's success. Then, after about a year, it seems like al Faye d just walked away and came back to the States."
"It seems strange that someone like Castel Vela would just let hi m resign," Strand commented.
"I talked to a DEA guy who was down there at the time and he said tha t no one's really sure what happened. Half say that Vela was afraid o f him and the other half say he loved him like a son. As you probabl y know, Vela died six months ago, so we'll never know for sure."
"Why didn't this come out in our initial background check on al Fayed?"
Strand said in a tone that suggested he already knew the answer.
Lauren squirmed uncomfortably in her chair but didn't speak.
"You've got me on the edge of my seat," Egan said, finally. "Don'
t keep me waiting."
"Because the information was purposely obscured."
"Really. By whom?"
"By you."
"Very good, Lauren. In three days, you uncovered something I spen t months burying. Gold star."
Strand pointed toward the door and she bolted before he could chang e his mind.
"You can imagine that I was a little surprised when I got that report , Matt."
"Fade was killing Colombian drug dealers on Colombian soil. As I se e it, that's not an American problem. In fact, I know from persona l experience that we're paying people down there to do the exact sam e thing."
"Those are official operations, Matt planned and executed by the U
. S
.
g overnment to disrupt the drug trade. What al Fayed did was hardly th e same thing. He was working to systematically eliminate weake r narcotics organizations so Castel Vela could more efficiently addic t our kids."
Egan nodded in a way that indicated he'd heard, but not that he agreed.
"There's enough cocaine coming into this country every week to sink a battleship, Hillel. Fade did this "
"How much coke is coming in here or what al Fayed's motivations wer e aren't really relevant, are they? You don't have the authority to mak e these kinds of calls. And you damn well "
"Fade did this," Egan repeated, deciding that he'd damn well be allowe d to finish his thought, "to get the money to pay for the medical hel p that he should have gotten from us. But when he got back to th e States, the scar tissue had set and it was too late. We're the reaso n he was out there."
Strand frowned disinterestedly. "Fine. Thank you, Matt. That'
s all."
Egan stood and leaned forward across the table, looking directly int o his boss's eyes. "That's not all, Hillel. I'm telling you to leav e this alone. Nothing good can come of it."
Strand was silent for a moment as though he was trying to decid e whether to respond or hold to his dismissal of Egan.
"I'm not sure how you come to that conclusion, Matt. We stand to gai n a very talented, well-trained operative who speaks fluent Arabic.
That's the good that can come of this."
Egan fell back into his chair, sliding his palms along the col d tabletop as he did. If he was ever going to figure out a way to mak e Hillel Strand see reason, this was the time. "Listen .. . The Fade yo u met yesterday isn't the man I knew. Trust me, he's on the verge o f completely disintegrating. There's a lot more to know about him tha n you can read on a sheet of paper."
"Maybe the best thing for him would be to come back into a structure d environment where he can be involved in something he's good at. Di d you ever consider that?"
"He doesn't need a fucking structured environment!" Egan shoute d before he could stop himself. He held up a hand, silencing Stran d before he could yell back, and managed to bring his voice under contro l before he spoke again. "I'm sorry. I had a bad night. Let me tr y this from a different angle. You say he's good at what he does. Bu t that's actually an understatement. Fade's one of those rare peopl e who's just better than everybody else. Kind of like Michael Jordan , but with a rifle instead of a basketball. Right now, he's sittin g around in his barn making quilting racks. And that's a good thing.
There's no reason to go over there and start poking this guy with a stick. It's impossible to predict how he'll react."
An incredulous smile suddenly spread across Strand's face. "You'r e afraid of him, aren't you?"
"I'm terrified of him, Hillel."
Chapter
Six.
Karen Manning tilted her head back and stared up at the dense web o f tree limbs blocking the sun. It had rained the night before and th e earth beneath her feet was still damp, intensifying the humidity an d causing her blouse to stick to her back. It was a place that seemed t o absorb everything air, sound, light. Appropriate, she supposed.
The call, anticipated with such dread, had come in about an hour ago, a breathless stream of consciousness from a man whose dog had followed a faint odor that now seemed to permeate everything. The stench wa s fueling her rage and frustration to the very edge of her control. Jus t like it always did.
"Anything?" she said, finally looking down.
The young woman's naked body had turned a uniform yellowish-gray excep t where the thin rope that ended her life had left a black ring. Kare n had a damp photograph in her hand that depicted the corpse durin g happier times, waving and smiling energetically, clad in a yello w bikini.
"Nothing new," John Wakefield said, crouching with some difficulty nex t to the body and carefully moving one of its arms to examine the matte d weeds growing beneath.
From looking at him, no one would ever guess that Wakefield had devote d his life to tracking down murderers. A more reasonable guess would b e Mr. Rogers's stand-in. Or aging librarian.
He'd been only days from his retirement party when the bodies an d letters started appearing. As the force's top investigator, he'd fel t obligated to stay on and when he'd announced that decision everyone i n Virginia had let out a sigh of relief.
"Very neat," he said, struggling to stand again. The arthritis in hi s knees caused him a lot of pain and Karen put a hand beneath his arm t o help.
"Plenty of time to be methodical .. . All the time in the world."
It was always exactly the same. In fact, it was becoming almos t monotonous. A young woman would disappear and shortly thereafter a letter would show up at both the department and the home of the woman'
s family spelling out in graphic detail what her kidnapper was going t o do to her. Then, exactly sixteen days later, the body would be dumpe d in a semi secluded area in the Virginia countryside always naked , strangled, and utterly sterile of clues.
Karen let out a frustrated growl and stalked deeper into the woods , snapping off any tree limbs that were unlucky enough to get in her way.
She didn't stop until she was far enough to escape the smell of deca y and the sounds of police cars running up and down the dirt road.
She had no idea how Wakefield could spend his days calmly pondering th e few scraps of evidence they had and sipping those damn herbal teas o f his. She wanted to do something. Anything. At the rate they wer e closing in on this asshole, he would die of old age before they caugh t him. And, in the meantime, a hundred more innocent women would spen d the last few days of their lives praying for it to end.
She heard the erratic crunch of footsteps coming up behind her bu t didn't turn around.
"Are you all right, Karen?"
"No."
Wakefield came alongside her and followed her gaze through the tree s stretching endlessly in front of them. "After a while you can star t thinking it's your fault. It's not, you know. It's his fault." H
e leaned forward and tried to coax her into looking at him. "That's m y speech. Did it help?"
"No."
"Is there anything I can say that will?"
She jerked around to face him, speaking in a voice that was too lou d for their surroundings. "You can tell me why the hell you picked m e for this assignment. I'm obviously not cut out for it and we both kno w it wasn't exactly the best political move you ever made."
Wakefield nodded thoughtfully, completely unfazed by her sudden displa y of anger. "It's a fair question. I picked you because I'm tired an d you're not. You're strong and passionate and full of energy. I can'
t bring any of those things to this investigation. Not anymore. Th e only thing I come with is experience. As far as being political, th e only benefit to being old enough to retire and taking on a job no on e wants is that you don't have to be political. The truth is, if I w anted to, I could go over to the captain's house tonight and slap hi s wife. You know what the repercussions would be? Zip."
"Have you ever met her? You should do it."
He laughed in the host-of-a-children's-show way he always laughed.
"I've got to tell you, John. This is driving me crazy. Every time I t ry to think clearly, I end up fantasizing about getting my hands o n this guy and twisting his head off."
"Maybe you should get a book on meditation?"
"Yeah, that's gonna happen."
"Did you ever think that maybe this guy's sick?"
She rolled her eyes. "Bullshit. He's just another geek who can't ge t a date. You know who was sick? Jack the Ripper. Now there was a gu y with a little get-up-and-go and some originality. Not some loser wh o didn't get enough attention from his mom and wants to see himself o n TV."
That elicited a laugh that was a little more hearty and ironic than on e you'd have gotten from Captain Kangaroo. "You know the other reason I p icked you for this, Karen? "Cause you're kinda fun and you don'
t think entirely inside the box. I'm going to go out on a limb and sa y that you're the first person in history to use the phras e 'get-up-and-go' to describe Jack the Ripper." He put a fatherly han d on her shoulder. "Look, can you remember one thing for me?"
"What?"
"I could have had the very best for this task force. And instead, I p icked you."
"You're a funny guy, John." She tapped her chest. "Seriously. I'
m laughing in here, where it counts."
"Detective Manning?"
They both turned toward the uniformed police officer running in thei r direction.
"The captain just pulled up. He wants to talk to you."
Wakefield winked at her. "Hopefully he didn't hear that comment yo u made about his wife."
When Karen broke from the trees, she saw Captain Pickering leanin g against a squad car coolly surveying the chaos building around him. Sh e slowed to a walk and did the best she could to transform herself int o the respectful and obedient subject he wanted her to be. Honestly, i t was too little too late he couldn't stand her and it was unlikely ther e was anything she could do to change that.
When she had been named the head of her precinct's SWAT team, he, as a former team leader himself, felt as though his accomplishments ha d suddenly been cheapened. And he wasn't alone. Cries of "feminis t affirmative action" echoed throughout the state and the grapevin e filled with enough blonde jokes to make her seriously consider dyein g her hair brown. The bottom line was that he and his boys' club let n o opportunity to undermine her pass.