Authors: Carey Green
“Life treating you ok, in the FBI?”
“I like it. Everyday is different. I’m never bored. How’s grad school?”
“Tedious. Never ending. Boring. Basically, the opposite of your life.”
“And things in general?”
Devin smiled at her for a long time, before uttering, simply, “Fine.”
The other aspects of Devin’s life were never spoken of. His involvement in other affairs were simply alluded to, or surmised indirectly. How he lived in a luxury apartment in New York on a grad student stipend, or had spent years in various foreign cities without a clear source of employment, these were the details of his life that to the casual observer would have pointed to one source only: a trust fund. But Vanessa knew differently: that Devin’s father had somehow been in the clandestine service and Devin had been keen on becoming a chip off the old block. His father had been in Vietnam and possibly Korea. The details were sketchy, which was appropriately fitting for Devin Harris, an inscrutable type. After graduation he had disappeared for a few years then re-emerged at Columbia as a Ph.D. candidate in the world of Arabic studies. He was in his sixth year now, two years from graduation, all in the service of his country. Perhaps because she was in the FBI, or maybe because of their shared years of friendship on the college green, it was over a long and daring night that he had shared these truths and one important other, that he was gay.
“Devin, thank you for seeing me such short notice. I know, in retrospect it wasn’t the greatest idea.”
“No, it wasn’t. Come with me,” Devin said as they got up from the steps. “Let’s take a walk.”
They walked past the various buildings on campus. Devin guided her across the campus towards a small chapel.
The chapel was empty. They slipped into a pew in the back. Devin removed several photographs from a leather briefcase that he had been carrying. He slipped them to Vanessa, facedown. Devin stared straight ahead as she glanced through the photos.
The first photograph was of a bearded man, probably in his forties, heavyset and of Middle Eastern descent. The photograph was dated 2005, Dubai. The man was dressed in western clothes, a briefcase in his hand, presumably hailing a taxi at a curb. From the style of his dress, the season seemed to be summer. Vanessa flipped the photograph over and placed it next to her on the seat. Devin had quietly gotten up and approached the front of the chapel. From what she could tell, he was lighting a candle at the altar.
The next photo was of a youngish man in his late twenties, Caucasian, blonde hair cropped short, muscled. The photo was dated 1981, Afghanistan. From the background of the photo she could tell it was taken in a rural area. No other information was revealed. She looked at the photo several times. Who was it? Why had Devin given it to her? The second photo had no relationship with the first one. Was it a puzzle? Just as she had placed the photo face down on top of the other, Devin was standing directly in front of her.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly. Vanessa stood up and they left the chapel.
Outside they walked towards the steps of the Library. Vanessa finally spoke as they reached the steps.
“I take it the first photograph was Fazziz?”
“You are correct.”
“Do you know anything?”
“A businessman of Saudi descent. Very wealthy. Well connected politically, both to the royal family and certain members of our government.”
“Our government? So he’s not a terrorist?”
“What’s your definition of terrorist?”
“Touché. Is he in this country?”
“Vanessa, I’ve already given you too much.”
“Okay. The second photo. Who is he?”
“Ah,” Devin said, with a grin. “You didn’t recognize, him?”
“Should I have? Who is he?”
Devin laughed. “He works with you.”
Vanessa began to jog back through the banks of her memory, the short blonde hair, militaristic crew-cut, only one name sprang to her mind and she blurted it out in surprise.
“Dan Highland?”
Devin looked around. No one was watching. He stared at the ground as Vanessa looked on.
“Dan Highland is our boss. Why would you have a file on him?”
“Think about it, Sweetie.”
Vanessa said nothing as Devin cracked a smile. “He’s also one of us.”
Later that evening she met Conroy at the local donut shop near their office. Coffee buddies. The shop was on the corner and they often went in there the afternoon. Vanessa searched for a seat while Conroy ordered the coffee. She found a small table for two in the corner and sat. Several minutes later Conroy sauntered over with two cups of coffee.
“You want a donut?” Conroy asked. “I feel like a donut.”
“I’ll pass.”
Conroy went back to the counter and order two donuts: one plain, one chocolate. When he returned, he set the chocolate one down in front of Vanessa.
“So, you met with your friend? What did he say?”
“It’s complicated. But he did brief me on or our target.”
“Anything useful?”
“It’s different than what we thought.”
“How different?”
“Hard to say at this point. He’s a Middle Eastern businessman: very well connected, here and abroad. Not the proto-typical guy you see coming up on the radar.”
“Okay. Why’s he on an FBI watch list?”
“It’s not exactly clear who he is, or why the interest.”
Conroy dunked his donut into his coffee. “Maybe the guy is legit then,” Conroy said. “Maybe he was just investing money with Corbin. A lot of people are on lists for various reasons. You’re innocent until proven guilty.”
“Somehow, I don’t think it’s as simple as that. My friend gave me another piece of information that I found interesting.”
“Are you going to share it with me, or keep beating around the bush?” Conroy asked.
“It’s about Dan.”
“Dan? Dan Highland? What does this have to do with him?”
“What do you really know about him?”
“You mean, personally?”
“Yeah.”
“I know enough. He’s married, kid in college. Lives in Jersey.”
“Okay. But what else?”
“Like, does he hunt or fish? What are you asking me?”
“Does he ever mention his politics? What his thoughts are on things?”
“Not really, but a lot of people don’t talk politics at work. It’s like talking religion. Both are to be avoided at work.”
“True. But Dan was in the military, right?”
“He was a Marine. Saw some action in Vietnam.”
“Did he? Did he say what he was doing?”
“Duh, I think he was fighting a war. There was one going on, back then. How much detail do you want?”
“Look, we need to talk. Let’s get out of here,” Vanessa said.
“Okay.” Conroy downed his coffee, and they headed for the street.
Outside, the afternoon air was hot and stifling. They both walked slowly as Vanessa began to speak.
“I’m just curious about something. Have you ever wondered, well, with all of this war on terror stuff, if any of our people were linked with other organizations?”
“Like the military?”
“Not the military, specifically, but other watch organizations.”
“You mean, like the CIA or something, like your buddy?” Vanessa shook her head.
“Vanessa, you’ve been watching too many movies. Why would they be linked?”
“I’m just asking a question. You have the CIA working on terror stuff, and you have the FBI working on terror stuff. Before, there was no connection. And 9/11 exposed their lack of shared information. What if, I’m just asking, what if you now had people who were both? Like a bridge between the two, helping to expedite the flow of information and resources.”
They had come to the corner of the street. They stepped away from the curb towards the entrance to their building.
“I suppose it’s plausible, but I’m not thinking about this when I eat my oatmeal in the morning. And what does this have to do with your friend?”
“Tim, he showed me a picture of Dan Highland, from Afghanistan in the 80s.”
“And?”
“Based on what he told me, Dan Highland is CIA.”
Conroy laughed. “This is ridiculous. You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m not. Tim, I saw the picture. It was Dan. My friend was also able to verify the name. And his sources are good.”
“Dan can’t be CIA.”
“Why not?”
“There’s no logical reason. Even if you were right, it wouldn’t make sense, because he’s not working on terrorism. That would be Thompson’s unit.”
“Maybe they want someone watching Thompson, giving them feedback, rather than running things. An eye on the inside giving them a heads up, providing a little disinformation here and there. Think about it. It would be best to have an objective eye close, but not in charge. The same purpose could be achieved even with a little distance.”
“Even if you were correct, what the hell does this have to do with Corbin and this guy Fazziz?”
“I don’t know yet. But suppose we stumbled upon something we weren’t supposed to find? And Highland knew it. What would he do?”
“He would suppress it?”
“Exactly, knowing you can’t go to Thompson.”
“What else did your friend tell you?”
“That was it. He wasn’t comfortable with the situation at all.”
Conroy looked at Vanessa. His mood had grown somber and quiet.
“Something told me Dan was lying when he came to my office the other day. I just felt it in my gut. That’s why I agreed to let you speak to your friend. The CIA thing is a little far-fetched at this point, but something is going on here, and it is not naked short selling.”
“Agreed. But we’re off the case now.”
“Yeah, but Dylan called me today. Said he had something for me. I didn’t tell him we were done. Let’s see what he gives us. You want to join us?”
“No, Vanessa said. “I don’t think so.”
Conroy stopped walking. He smiled at Vanessa deviously. “I thought you two got along well?”
“We do. That’s kind of why I’m not going. I don’t want to start mixing business and pleasure.”
“I can understand that. But what if he asks about you?”
“Tell him I said “hello”. Besides,” Vanessa said with a grin, “he knows where I work.”
Vanessa sat on a bench in a Brooklyn Park devouring a ham and cheese sandwich purchased from the diner across the street from her office. Her diet had gone to hell with the workload, and a greasy afternoon meal had become her only comfort of the day.
When he arrived, Dylan was wearing the same suit as that morning, but was far more disheveled. His tie was loosened and his shirt was soiled and wrinkled. His collar was astray and flapping. He took a seat on the bench next to her.
“The strangest thing just happened to me.”
“How strange?”
“I found Josh Corbin waiting for me in my car after Ray’s funeral.”
“Waiting for you?”
“Yes, he had shoved his big body into my Porsche.”
“Did he say what he wanted?” she asked.
“Yes. He said he wanted me to come back to work tomorrow.”
“At the hedge fund?”
“Yes. Some funny stuff is going on with the computers.”
“Funny, as in ‘ha ha’?”
“No, funny as in money is missing.”
“He told you that?”
“Yeah. Transferred out the day Binky went missing. Josh thinks Binky might have stolen the money and left the country. The strange thing is, everything Josh told me sounds like Binky. Hacked bank accounts, Easter eggs, anonymous servers in Russia: He knows all this stuff.”
“For criminal intent?”
“No, his father is richer than God. He’s just a genius with computers, and part of that is hacking.”
“Yeah, but why would he transfer money out?”
“We don’t know that he did, but if he did, I’m sure there was a reason.”
“It would have to be a very big reason.”
“I know that.”
“Maybe,” Vanessa added, “he’s trying to lure you back for some reason.”
“For what?” Dylan asked. “So he can sit on me? What’s he going to do to me during business hours?”
“But why?” Vanessa asked. Vanessa just shrugged her shoulders. “What he’s saying is insane. There’s no way he can run the fund. The investors will want their money back.”
“He also told me he would pay me severance if I went and talked to him.”
“Severance? Are you nuts? These guys are going down, and you’re trying to get severance?”
“Look, he offered what Ray promised me.”
“So that’s why you are actually considering this insane thing? For money?”
“No, it’s not. He told me something strange is going on with the computers; some hidden messages embedded in the software. I want to find out what happened to Binky. I can help you. I’ll even wear a wire.”
Vanessa’s face contorted with anger. “Are you crazy? This is not a ‘Colombo’ episode. You are not law enforcement. It’s too late for wires now. We’ve got a dead man, and probably another on the way. I’d hate for you to end up like your friend. You need to forget about the hedge fund and sit tight.”
“You think Binky’s dead?”
“I don’t know that, but it’s possible.”
“Is this a warning?” Dylan asked.
“I admit that I was wrong. There’s a lot more going on here than I first imagined. And I will do everything possible to find your friend. But Dylan, forget about talking to Josh. Let us handle this.”
“How can you handle this when you are no longer on the case?”
“I’m not on the case, but I’m not giving up. I’m still working on it. I am trying to find answers.”
“Do you still have the iPhone?”
“Of course. I’m seeing someone about that today.”
“And what do you expect me to do until then?”
“Go home and chill out. Go to the gallery.” Dylan got up from the table and made a dismissive gesture of his hand at Vanessa.
“I’ll handle this on my own.”
“Dylan, please. You need to step down!”
“Don’t call me. I’ll call you.” Dylan nodded at Vanessa as he walked away.
Later, Vanessa paid a visit to the New York office’s translation expert, Yardley Trussell. There had been a cancellation on Yardley’s schedule, and Vanessa was able to see him almost immediately. She had sent the iPod to him earlier that day in an envelope marked “Confidential”.