Sympathy For the Devil (9 page)

“I despise you so much, that I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of transferring to another office. And I’m staying not just because I enjoy making your life miserable, but because I think you’ve lost your objectivity. I think you’re putting the University—and the Dean—at risk and I owe him too much to let that happen.”

“So making my life miserable is just a bonus for you?”

“Yes,” Jason admitted. “Yes it is.”

“Marvelous. Are you going to release the search results on the three men or not?”

“I’ll agree to give you the identities of the two men you killed, but not the image you retrieved from the camera.”

Hicks knew he’d given in too easily. “Why not?”

“Because that image was embargoed by another government when OMNI ran the search.”

“Embargoed?” Hicks hadn’t heard that term in years. “By who?”

“We’re working to figure that out,” Jason said. “It looks like one of our European cousins did it when OMNI searched Interpol’s database. We still have the image, but Interpol shut down the search and embargoed the information. The Dean is going to look into it personally, and we hope to know much more later today. Needless to say, that image is of someone who’s being protected for a good reason.”

Hicks knew this was how it was in the Life. Two steps up and one step back. “Fine. Any word on Colin’s autopsy?”

Jason referred to his handheld. “It came in a few minutes before you got here. Our doctors say his system was pumped full of a combination of heroin and cocaine. Chances are he probably would’ve died from cardiac arrest if Omar’s man hadn’t shot him. Given his known fear of needles and avoidance of alcohol and drugs, we surmise that he was drugged in an attempt to get him to talk. So, for all intents and purposes, he was already dead by the time you got there.” Jason looked away. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be so… clinical about it. I know he was your friend. For what it’s worth, the injection site on his arm was bruised, implying that he didn’t let them stick him easily.”

That was the Colin that Hicks had known. “What about the two men who were with him?”

“I’ll see to it that the identities of the two men you killed are sent to your handheld as soon as we’re done here. I’m afraid you’ll find it pedestrian reading. No red flags and no known ties to extremists except that they’re both Somali.”

Hicks had figured as much. “I checked our passive surveillance of the cab stand and the whole place has been dark since yesterday. No sign of Omar, the drivers, or any of the cars, either. It’s seems they all scattered just before Colin went to meet me at the park.”

Hicks didn’t like where any of this was leading, but it only seemed to be leading one place. He had no choice but to state the obvious. “I think Omar’s network was a hell of a lot bigger than we thought.”

“Which makes Omar far more dangerous than we thought,” Jason said. “Which means we’re going to have to work closely on this from here on in. Our personal animosity aside, we need to help each other to keep a bad situation from getting even worse.”

“That means I need to be apprised of every new development in this case, and you need to wait for my approval before you act on any intelligence. The I.D. on this man from the camera should’ve come back with the two men you killed. It didn’t. Colin’s assignment should’ve been wrapping up and, instead, he’s dead. There’s more at play here than our animosity for each other. And perhaps more than we know.”

Hicks decided to quit while he was ahead. “Agreed. I’ll keep you posted.”

As Hicks opened the car door, Jason said, “Stay in touch. And stay safe.”

Hicks smiled before he closed the door. “Gee, Honey. I didn’t know you cared.”

H
ICKS WAITED
until he got back to Twenty-third Street to download the files Jason had sent him. And just as Jason had warned him, the background on the two Somalis he’d killed had been a dead end. All of Jason’s posturing about his goddamned information embargo had been just that: posturing.

According to the file, the two men he’d killed were a couple of twenty-year old orphans raised in a Christian missionary in Somalia. That same orphanage sponsored them for student visas so they could come to the Land of Opportunity and bring their knowledge back home with them. Their passports had been stamped at JFK four months before and they’d fallen off the radar since then until the moment Hicks had killed them.

They’d entered the country legally with legitimate passports and sponsors. That meant they’d probably gotten involved with Omar after they’d gotten into the country. And since OMNI had never tracked either of them to the cab stand or any of the drivers, it confirmed that Omar’s operation was much bigger than he’d previously thought.

Somehow, Omar had managed to build up a network while being under the watchful eye of OMNI and Colin. Sending a couple of rookies with Colin to the rendezvous probably meant Colin hadn’t told Omar much about the University. If he had, Omar would’ve sent pros or just flat out killed Colin and cut his losses. Hicks figured Omar had drugged Colin to get him to talk. The bigger question was why. What had Colin seen?

It must’ve been something that Omar had wanted kept secret. Something that hadn’t shown up in six months of passive and active surveillance from the finest intelligence array in the world.

All Hicks had to do was find out what it was. And to do that, he’d have to start from square one.

He toggled his screen to see Colin’s autopsy report. The autopsy photo of Colin’s corpse on a slab came up first. A white sheet draped over his body with gaps and sags where none would be if he had still been alive. Places where the doctor had cut into him. He stared at the picture until he thought he could see each pixel of the image.
Why are you dead, my old friend? Why did you set me up?

Omar had disappeared and the dead men were dead ends. The only lead Hicks had left was the image of the man on the camera’s memory card. An image a foreign government was protecting. And two dead men from an organization far larger than Hicks knew existed.

He was beginning to think this was far above the skill set of an untrained Somali cab driver with bad intentions. This felt like it was something more.

Hicks almost jumped when his phone began to buzz. It was the Dean himself.

Hicks had worked for the man for almost twenty years, but had never met him. He had no idea where the Dean lived or where he worked or what his name might be or even what he looked like. They’d always communicated over the OMNI network by phone and via email, but never in person.

The University prided itself on ‘dynamic diversity.’ There was no central office or campus, but hundreds of offices each hiding in plain sight, all remotely connected through OMNI.

Hicks had spoken to the man hundreds of times and, based on the conversations they’d had and the decisions he’d made, Hicks pegged him for an old field man. A good one at that. The kind who knew when to step in, when to give advice and when to back out of the way. Skills Jason didn’t have and probably never would.

When Hicks answered the phone, the Dean said, “You’re brooding, aren’t you?”

The man’s ability to read people had always impressed him. “How do you know?”

“Because you’ve been staring at the same screen for ten minutes after a night of furious activity. You’ve been staring at those pictures from Colin’s autopsy for so long that I can practically feel it burning a hole right through you.”

Hicks should’ve remembered that OMNI kept track of its user’s keystrokes. No one else had access to all of that except for the Dean. “I could’ve been in the bathroom.”

“Not you. Not that long. Besides, I owed you a call to express my condolences over what happened to Colin. He was a good man. I hope you don’t blame yourself for his death.”

“I don’t,” Hicks said, almost believing it. “I just don’t like how this seems to be much bigger than we know.”

“All that means is that your instincts were right from the beginning,” the Dean said. “You knew Omar was up to something and you stayed with it, despite all evidence to the contrary. That’s the human element I’m always talking about, James. OMNI is an invaluable tool, but it still takes a human’s instinct and training to wield her properly. This business with Omar proves me right.”

“Speaking of humans,” Hicks said, “did Jason debrief you on our meeting today?”

“He’s promised me a full report by close of business today. All he said was that it was far more productive better than he expected it would. I know that working with him isn’t always easy, but he really is quite brilliant in certain aspects of the job.”

Hicks had never pulled punches with the Dean before and he wouldn’t start now. “He’s nowhere near as smart as he thinks he is.”

“I can’t argue with you there,” the Dean said, “and I know better than to waste time trying to change your mind. Jason is valuable if only because he’s young and youth can always be exploited by more experienced men. Men like you and me.”

Hicks heard the tinkle of ice and the sound of the Dean sipping something. Hicks always envisioned the Dean as a scotch man, sitting behind a large oak desk, sipping Laphroig or Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Neat, of course. He just as easily could’ve been sipping lemonade on a porch in Savannah for all Hicks knew, but he preferred his vision of the man better to whatever the reality might be.

The Dean went on. “Besides, we should table the discussion of Jason’s shortcomings as a Department Chair for another time. We have more important business to discuss. Your friend who drove the getaway vehicle is dead.”

“Dead?” Hicks sat up straight. “How do you know?”

“There’s a reason why we couldn’t track him from the garage,” the Dean explained. “I thought we’d simply lost him due to the angle of the satellite or the snow storm, so I took the liberty of having a varsity member check the garage for the car. He found our friend shot and dumped in the trunk of his own car. Whoever did it just walked away. I’ve had techs reviewing the footage of every camera in the area, but none of it bore fruit.”

Hicks wasn’t as surprised as he was troubled. “Sir, the speed with which this situation is getting complicated is troubling, to say the least.”

“I’m more troubled about something else,” the Dean said. “I was able to determine that the image you found was embargoed by the British.”

“Are you sure? Not the French?”

“Their system did it automatically, which means the facial recognition matched someone they’re looking to protect for some reason. I’ve made some calls to find out who the man is and why they’re hiding him. But answers will take time, if we get them at all. In the meantime, tell me your next course of action regarding Omar?”

Hicks hated what he was about to say, but didn’t see that he had any choice. “We should probably grab Omar as soon as possible.” He toggled over to Omar’s OMNI screen, which showed zero hits in activity on any of his phones or emails or vehicles since the day before. “The system shows he’s been quiet since before the incident in the park, but that’s to be expected since he probably knows he’s being watched. Taking out Omar is our best chance of stalling whatever Colin uncovered. At least for a little while.”

“Do you think you can get him to talk?”

“No, but Roger will. He could get a mute to recite Shakespeare.”

“Agreed,” the Dean said. “Our friend’s peccadillos certainly make me glad he’s on our side.”

Roger Cobb’s interrogation technique was brutally intricate and incredibly efficient. He wasn’t afraid of gore, but gore wasn’t the sole purpose of what he did. “He’s a gifted interrogator, sir.”

“Normally, I’d agree that picking up Omar and handing him over to Roger is the best course of action,” the Dean said. “But what if I told you there might be another way to go about it? What if I told you there’s a cleaner way we can get this bastard to give us everything we want without tipping him off and interrupting his plans?”