The Trap (Agent Dallas 3) (17 page)

“I was with Cree the whole time. You can ask him!” Dallas let herself get angry and raised her voice. “This is bullshit. I carried the damn drugs and took the risk, and now I’m facing a burglary charge. Not to mention spending the night on a cement floor and getting assaulted by a three-hundred-pound woman.”

Luke finally glanced back. “Are you all right?”

“I’ve got a lump on the back of my head, a massive headache, and I haven’t eaten since yesterday. But yeah, I’m fine.” She needed Luke on her side and Abby to shut the hell up. It was time to ask. “I’d like to stop at my apartment, shower, eat, and pick up a few more things. In fact, I want to get my car and drive it out to the farmhouse so I have access to it.”

“No.” Abby didn’t even turn to face her.

“Why not? I think I’ve proven myself.”

Abby scoffed. “You failed your mission and got arrested, and now you’ve put all of us in jeopardy.”

Luke braked for traffic, then turned to Abby. “I told you to drop it. Tara stays with us.” He made a left turn, clearly not heading toward Georgetown and her apartment.

“Can I get my car?” Feeling bitchy now, Dallas tried to find the balance between asserting her needs and pissing everyone off.

“Not now,” Luke said. “It’s not worth the argument. Everything is changing rapidly, and we’ll have to make some group decisions after Friday.”

Dallas let it go. “Can we stop for food? I’m starving.”

“I have half a sandwich,” Abby offered. “That should hold you until we get home.”

“I’ll take it.” Dallas reached for the sandwich. “Do you have water?”

Abby passed both requests back to her without commenting.

“After I eat this, I’m lying down to nap for a while. I’m exhausted.” That was the truth. She felt like she could pass out. The ride home could be an opportunity to chat them up and find out what else they’d planned for Friday, but she was too tired to focus or retain information at the moment. After a quick snooze, she’d be ready to go again.

Dallas woke an hour later to the sound of heated voices. She heard Abby say, “I think she’s a risk. How much do we even know about her?”

Dallas forced herself to focus, but kept her eyes closed.

Luke responded, “We know Tara supports our cause and is willing to take risks with us. That’s all that matters. We’re not kicking her out.”

“What if the police come looking for her?”

“They’ll go to her apartment in DC. I said to drop it.”

Abby was quiet after that, so Dallas sat up. They were on the highway in Virginia, headed north. “Can we stop somewhere, please? I need to pee.”

“We’ll be home in half an hour,” Luke said.

“I can’t wait that long.”

Abby cut in, “Let’s go ahead and stop. I need to use the bathroom too, and you can run into the store for more beer.”

Dallas sighed. She wouldn’t get to call her contact with Abby in the store, but that was fine. She still needed more details about the Pearlman mission on Friday before she contacted Drager. When she had them, she’d find a way.

Wednesday, Oct. 8, 6:05 p.m.

Luke tasted the pot of beef stew he’d just made and added more marjoram. Along with the cornbread Abby was baking, this meal was one of the few, besides pizza, that everyone in the group liked. Cree tended to be really picky about vegetables, and Abby had eclectic tastes. The timer on the oven sounded, and he reached over to shut it off. Abby came into the kitchen. “Are we ready?”

“Yep. Will you let everyone know?”

Abby turned and walked away without answering. She’d been distant and weird since he’d broken off with her, and now she was upset that yesterday’s mission had failed to get the drugs planted in the governor’s car. Abby had also wanted to leave Tara in jail, claiming it was too risky to be associated with her bail, but Luke hadn’t even considered abandoning her. If they couldn’t count on each other to help get out of jail, what was the point of the broader mission? Now he wondered if Abby could be a loyal and fully functional member. She seemed a little high-strung lately. She’d also insisted on going with him today so he couldn’t be alone with Tara—a long uncomfortable trip.

The group gathered at the dining table, with everyone surprisingly quiet. Except Cree, who asked Tara about her time in jail, after sheepishly apologizing for leaving her behind to get caught. She described the assault from the other inmate—an experience Luke related to—but then seemed reluctant to share anything else. Luke understood that too. He held up his beer bottle for a toast. “To Tara, who took one for the team. We’re glad to have you back.”

“Thanks. But we failed our mission, so I don’t get much credit.”

“No, we didn’t fail,” Luke countered. “We may not have planted drugs on the governor like we wanted, but we got our message out there, and the Virginia media is now discussing the private-prison issue. I think public reaction to the transfer will be negative enough to shut it down.” Maybe that was wishful thinking, but he was trying to cheer up Tara. She was facing some serious charges. “Have you decided how you’re going to handle this? I can contact a lawyer for you.” He was glad the JRN network was extensive and included a few law enforcement and government officials as well as professionals of every kind.

“It’s tempting to just not show up for court,” Tara said, between bites of stew. “How are they going to find me?”

Abby cut in. “The problem is that they’re even looking.” Her voice grew loud and trembled with emotion. “Now that the Virginia cops have Tara on their radar as an activist, it’s a risk for the rest of us if she stays here. I think she should leave.”

“No.” Luke glared at his ex. “We don’t abandon our members. And now that our funding has been cut off, we might have to move soon anyway. I still have to talk to Hana about that. In the meantime, Tara’s no more of a risk than any of the rest of us.”

Abby slammed down her knife. “I disagree.”

“I’m with Luke,” Cree said. “We all know the risks, and we could all go to prison.”

“We can come back to this discussion after our mission Friday.” Luke looked at Aaron. “Do we have Stella Pearlman’s schedule yet?”

“She’ll be out of the house between one and three.”

“Perfect.” This mission was bolder than anything they’d ever done, and it was happening fast. But the decriminalization vote was Friday, and they had to be proactive. He started to outline the plan. “We’ll take several vehicles and park in different locations, in case we have to make a fast getaway and only have one exit route.”

“But we’re parking the van right out front, right?” Abby asked.

“Yes. Cree and I will wear blue jumpsuits and work belts, so we’ll look like electricians.” They had recently painted the
Eric’s Electric
sign on the van so no one would pay attention to it. “Cree will disable the home’s security, and we’ll walk right in the front door.” He touched Abby’s hand to reassure her. “You’ll be down the street, watching for us, ready to cause a distraction if necessary.”

“I want to go in the house. Tara can be lookout.”

Luke decided to let it go. He needed to placate Abby until he could find a way to ease her out. “Fine.”

“I’ll be on the other end of the block, monitoring the police scanner,” Aaron said.

“What happens if the senator refuses to vote our way?” Abby asked. “His dog may not be as important to him as we think.”

“He’ll go along.” Luke had been worried about that too, but now he had a backup plan that seemed foolproof. “The senator will not only vote with us, he’ll bring in a few others. And he’ll never report the incident or call for a new vote.”

Abby spun toward him. “Why not?”

“We’ll have Pearlman’s laptop. Tell them what you found, Aaron.”

The analyst grinned. “Once I had remote access of his computer, I dug through his files and found some salacious photos. I’m sure the senator doesn’t consider them to be child pornography, but the state of Maryland does.”

Tara cocked her head. “What exactly are they?”

“Naked fourteen-year-old girls.”

“Gotta love politicians.” Tara laughed. “The hypocrite probably voted for stiffer sentencing for possessing such material. They never learn.”

Cree chuckled too. “Like that congressman who pushed for drug-testing food stamp recipients, then was arrested for cocaine.”

Luke could have added a dozen more examples, but he wanted to stay focused. “Let’s run through the timing.”

“Wait,” Tara cut in. “What happens inside the house? You call Pearlman and threaten to hurt his dog? How do you prove you have the pup?”

“We’ll send images, maybe a short video.”

“What if he tells you to fuck off?”

“I’ll bring up the laptop and threaten to expose him.”

Tara smiled. “This could work. Do you really think the vote could pass?”

“It may not.” Luke refused to let it bother him. “But having the head of the Congressional Judiciary Committee vote in favor will be a huge political win. Other politicians will get on board, and it will pass the next time. We have to start it rolling. In a punitive society, reform takes time.”

Tara went back to eating stew, so everyone else did too. Between mouthfuls, Luke outlined the timing of the day from the moment they left the house, then ran through some worst-case scenarios. Cree and Tara were the most concerned about the mission, and he did his best to reassure them. But he was worried too. If they were caught, they would face ten- or fifteen-year sentences, at least. It almost made him let out a bitter laugh. He’d served ten years for holding someone else’s pot. He might actually be sentenced to less time for extortion. Many rapists had served less time, along with nearly everyone who committed manslaughter. He shook it off. He’d been through this in his head a million times. All he could do now was move forward and push for change.

After the dinner meeting, Abby and Aaron went back to their rooms, but Luke headed to the living area to check the news. Cree and Tara joined him. He turned on the TV and switched to CNN. As a group, they usually watched movies, particularly comedies or indie slice-of-life films, but they were all news junkies too and checked multiple sources every day. The newscaster spent ten minutes talking about the Ebola crisis, showing graphs of how quickly they thought it could spread, then switched to the daily drone strike report in the Middle East. Luke got up, intending to go check his email, when the pretty newscaster caught his attention:

“In a breaking development, a judge’s murder in Washington DC may have a new, deeper new motive. Sources tell us that retired Judge J.D. Bidwell had been investigated for racketeering, fraud, and corruption. The charges, which had just been filed, indicate that during Bidwell’s twenty-year seat on the circuit court in Virginia, he took more than two hundred payments from a company known as CSA, Corrections for a Safer America, a private-prison contractor that runs facilities around the country. In exchange for the payments, the US Attorney’s office says Bidwell gave defendants maximum sentences, essentially selling them for profit.”

The news landed like a punch in his gut. He’d been sold for cash? Ten years of his life stolen, so the judge could drive a better car or play golf in Hawaii? Luke collapsed back onto the couch.

The newscaster continued: “The payments amounted to more than two million dollars, and the IRS has frozen the judge’s assets in an attempt to collect taxes on the money.”

“Two million!” Cree’s mouth dropped open.

“The scandal made us take a deeper look at the private-prison industry and how it operates,” the newscaster said. “Almost all for-profit prison contracts include minimum quota clauses that stipulate the state must keep the prison on average ninety percent full or pay fees to make up the difference. By sentencing defendants to the maximum, Bidwell was not only lining his own pocket but also helping the state meet its contract quotas.” The newscaster took on a concerned look. “The social issue that arises is whether private prison systems lead to longer-than-necessary sentences. We’ll look into average sentences in states that have mostly for-profit prisons, such as Texas, and compare them to states like California and Oregon, which have none. So we’ll have more coverage on the issue soon.”

The newscaster moved on to another subject. Still stunned, Luke turned to Tara, who sat next to him. “Judge Bidwell sentenced me. He traded my life for a bribe.”

“I’m so sorry. You must be devastated.”

“Death is too good for him.”

“I wonder how they caught him.” Cree muted the TV and came over.

“It was probably the IRS.” Luke pushed off the couch, hoping no one tried to hug him. “I need to be alone.” He started for his room, then changed his mind and went out for a walk. Somehow, news of the judge’s corruption changed everything.

Dallas watched Luke leave, wondering if she’d have another chance to pry him for intel before the takedown on Friday. He’d seemed stunned by the news of Bidwell’s corruption, but Luke’s comment that death was too good for the judge had almost sounded like regret. Did he wish he hadn’t killed Bidwell, so the judge could spend the rest of his life in prison and get to experience it for himself? That would have been better karma, if you believed in that kind of thing.

“Ready for that chess game now?” Cree plopped on the couch beside her.

“Sure, but you’re probably out of my league.”

“Because I’m a techie? Not all coders are good strategists.” He laughed again, a mellow sound she’d come to enjoy. “But I’m better than average. Let’s play. I need to get my mind off all this heavy shit.” Cree reached for a small coffee table, pushed the magazines off it, and yanked it toward them. A chessboard was embedded in the surface. Cree opened a drawer and pulled out a set of carved wooden pieces.

“Nice,” Dallas said, touching the wood. “Is this yours?”

“I bought it at a local garage sale after we moved here.”

“Sweet deal.” She started setting up the pieces. “I call black.”

“I knew you would. I like to think of myself as a white hat anyway.”

She recognized the hacker term for those who used their skills in a positive way. “You do have the right motives.”