Blood Money (14 page)

CHAPTER 19

At half past ten Mark began to be concerned. Susan should have called. He dialed her home number and her cell phone. There was no answer at either. Then he called her office. They told him that she had left earlier in the afternoon to go home and no one had heard from her since then. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary as far as they could see. Twice more, he called her home and cell numbers. Finally Mark called her office again and asked if they knew the name of the visitor she had from the NRBA earlier that day. After a while, Deborah, Sue's night supervisor, returned to the phone. “I'm sorry for taking so long. He didn't have an appointment, he just dropped in. I finally found his business card in a box on Mary's desk. I guess she holds them or a while. His name is John W. Portman. He's their Director of Security. His office is in Denver, Colorado.” She gave him the office and web addresses and the office phone numbers. “I hope that helps. You know, it is possible she is having dinner with a client, maybe even Mister Portman. If I hear from her, I'll tell her you called. I'm sure that everything is all right. Have a good evening, Mister Matthews.”

Mark didn't know how he was going to use the information, but his gut feeling was that Portman had something to do with Susan being missing. Of course, there could be any number of reasons for her to be incommunicado. As Deborah suggested, she could be having dinner with someone, but it certainly wasn't with Portman. After all, he really didn't know that much about her personal life, and he certainly had no right to pry. He tried unsuccessfully to read a novel. Finally, he turned on the television. It was just a bunch of images moving around on the screen to him. He decided not to call her again. She would call when she is ready. There was a good chance that her meeting with Portman went well. In that case, she wouldn't be in any hurry to call. Susan was entitled to her privacy. He'd talk to her tomorrow. Right now he needed to get a good night's sleep. Mark set the ring tone volume on his phone to the loudest setting, just in case she did call. Sometimes Sue was oblivious to time. He tossed and turned for quite a while, his mind too active for sleep. Around midnight, Mark took two sleeping pills from a prescription bottle he'd found in his father's room after he passed away. His father was never big on pills, except for an occasional aspirin. He couldn't remember him ever taking any meds. He only took the sleeping pills for a short time after Mark's mother died. The expiration date on the bottle had long since passed, but he swallowed them anyway. He wasn't sure if they would work, but knew he had to get some sleep if he was going to be of any use to anyone the next day. The pills knocked him out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was dead to the world.

CHAPTER 20

John Portman returned to his motel room around two o'clock in the morning. He and Dick Schaeffer had just finished cleaning up a loose end; a loose end by the name of Roland Phoebes. It was all a part of his plan to get Susan to talk. It was an insurance policy.

They had followed Roland from his office to an apartment complex. As soon as Roland entered number 5A, he heard a knock on the door. When he answered, he was met by John and Dick, and a gun that was aimed directly at his heart. He stepped back as he said, “What on earth do you think you're doing, Portman. What's the gun for?”

“I'll ask the questions,” replied John as he and Dick entered the apartment, locking the door behind them.

With fear obvious in his eyes and voice, Roland said, “You've got no right to come barging in here. I told you everything that I know the other night. Now, you two get out of here or I'll call the police.”

“We're not going anywhere until you tell me the truth about hacking our files. I spoke with your confederate, Susan Harrigan earlier today and she denies everything too, but I can tell when people are lying to me, and you're a regular fibbing Phoebes.” He smiled at his spontaneous humor. “You are going to tell me the truth about everything before we leave here. Understand?”

“She couldn‘t tell you anything because there is nothing to tell. Can't you get that into your head? You have no right to be doing this. I want both of you to leave my apartment at once.”

“I don't believe you, Phoebes, and we're not going anywhere.”

As John was speaking, Dick grabbed Phoebes by the arm and escorted him to the bedroom at the back of the apartment. The rooms were unusually clean for a bachelor pad. When they got to the bedroom, John closed the door behind them. Dick tore the bedspread and pillows off the bed and tossed them onto the floor.

“What on earth do you think you're doing? Stop that!”

“He's just making it comfortable for you,” John said. “Now lay down on the bed.”

“I'll do nothing of the kind and you can't make me.”

Dick put his gun on Roland's forehead and pushed. Roland fell back onto the bed. “You'll do as you're told, if you know what's good for you.” John approached the bed. He placed a gun in front of Roland's face. “I am not kidding around. This is your last chance, Phoebes. I don't want to hurt you. I believe you are just an innocent pawn in this business, so you can still escape unscathed. Now tell me what you two did and why, and we'll be out of here.”

“This is insane. I can't tell you any more than I have already. I swear!” he said, his eyes wide open in fear.

Dick looked at Portman. “This isn't getting us anywhere, John. This creep isn't going to tell us anything. Off him!”

Before Roland could say a word, John pulled the trigger. The shot splattered blood and brains all over the bed and headboard. John took out a handkerchief and wiped some of the spray off his hand and the gun. While he was doing that, Dick placed some personal things that belonged to Susan around the bedroom and bathroom; items that Portman had picked up at her condo. Then John took a few Polaroid pictures of Roland's body and returned the camera and gun to the bag. He examined the pictures. He smiled as he said, “Mister Phoebes is going to help us in more ways than he could have imagined. What is it that they say about a picture being worth a thousand words? These pictures speak volumes. Come on, let's get out of here.”

It was ten minutes after eleven when they left the apartment. John didn't arrive back at his motel in Hudson until one. It had been a full but very productive day. He could feel victory within his grasp. He was now prepared for his next encounter with Susan Harrigan. This time he had no doubt she would see the wisdom of telling him everything he wanted to know. John decided to catch up on his phone calls. He spent about a half hour with Mel before he called Dr. Orwell at home to give him a brief update on his findings to-date.

“I'm sorry to be calling so late, but things are really heating up out here. I'm pretty sure that a woman that operates a local software service is responsible for stealing that file, and I expect to persuade her to tell me who hired her.” He smiled as he added, “I'm having another meeting with her later today. She's being very cagey, but I feel quite confident that eventually we will have a meeting of the minds. If everything goes as I expect it to, I will be out of here by tomorrow night.”

Orwell knew better than to question how Portman got things done. In fact, he knew better than to ask too many questions at all. He remembered very well that Dr. Cartwright was pressured out of the company for asking too many questions. He did not want to suffer the same fate. He also knew that John had friends on the Board. “It sounds like you're on the right track, John. I will be happy to put this whole episode behind us. I've got a Board of Governors meeting coming up shortly and I can't afford to have this kind of a problem looming in the background.”

“I agree, Doctor. Everything will surely be cleared up by then. By the way, I asked Mel to review the names of people making inquiries about funding in the last year to see if anything stood out. The only thing he found that was out of the ordinary was a problem we had with a Peter Thurston. He's a board member. He owns a large electronics company that does a lot of work for the defense industry. Apparently he's been complaining about not receiving information about the Association that he feels he has a right to see. He bitched and moaned about it for a while, then apparently he just dropped it.” As an afterthought, he added, “These millionaires really piss me off. They think they are so much better than everybody else. Does the name Thurston ring a bell with you?” At first, Dr. Orwell said nothing. He was reflecting on Portman's attitude about people with money. Then he replied, “Yes, I remember his inquiries. He was sticking his nose into things that he didn‘t need to know. A lot of the outside directors do the same thing. They are so wrapped up in their own importance. They think that because they are the chief honcho in their own companies, that they hold some sway with the Association. We don't have to give them access to all of our operating data. If we choose, we can just call the information inaccessible and ignore their requests. That's what we've done with him. I would not be concerned about Peter Thurston.”

“Whatever you say. That'll be one less thing to follow up on. I also asked Mel to check on your predecessor. He hasn't located him yet, but I thought it might be worth checking up on him. Who knows, there could be a revenge factor at work here. Also, Mel tells me that Robby is still checking the computer files to assure that no viruses were planted. So far, so good. Well, I guess that's it for now. We're very close. I hope to be out of here by tomorrow night. You have a good night, Doctor.”

“You too, John. I appreciate the job you're doing. This is my first major crisis and it is comforting to know that you have things under control. Your dedication won't go unrewarded. Be sure to stop by and see me when you get back. There are some things I want to go over with you.”

John sat back on the bed thinking about what Orwell had just said. Who knows, maybe he would get a promotion out of this, after all.
Being a Vice-President or a Senior Director
wouldn't be all that bad. He picked up the remote and flicked around for something light to amuse him until he felt sleepy, settling on a re-run of Law and Order, Criminal Intent. He was always amused by the stupid mistakes that the criminals made on the show. He gave little credit to the skills of the detectives. In his mind, the show should be labeled as a “comedy” instead of a “drama.” Maybe he would write about how to get away with murder, something he knew about firsthand.

CHAPTER 21

At half past six Mark's phone rang

“Is this Mark Matthews?”

“Yah, you've got him.”

“Mark, this is Dennis Peterson. I'm with the Cleveland Field Office of the FBI. It's urgent that I talk with you as soon as possible. I am on my way down there from Cleveland right now. I should be in your area around eight. Will you see me?”

“What's this about?”

“I'd rather not talk about it over the phone, but it's imperative that we meet.” He repeated, “Will you see me?”

“Well, sure, I guess. Let me give you directions. It is a little tricky.”

“That won't be necessary. I've got a GPS. It will take me right to your door. I'll see you at eight.”

Mark met Peterson at the door precisely at eight. He showed his credentials, which Mark recognized as authentic from his years in Washington. “Come in. Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee or something?”

“No thanks, Mark. I had some on the way down. Please have a seat. We've got a lot to cover and we don't have a lot of time.”

Mark didn't like the tone of his voice; after all, Peterson was a guest in his house. He sat down in a chair opposite Peterson. “You sounded so serious on the phone. What's this all about?”

“Mark, I'll get right to the point. Susan Harrigan works for me at the Cleveland Field Office of the FBI. She has been working as a covert Special Agent in the Intelligence and Analysis section since she moved back east. Actually, Susan has worked as a covert Intelligence Officer for the Defense Department from her first day on the team. She was also secretly reporting to a contact in the White House.”

It was a good thing Mark was sitting down, because his entire body suddenly weakened. “Does this have anything to do with why I can't reach her? Has something happened to her? Is that why you're here? She was supposed to call me last night on a project we were working on together, but she never called. I've been frantic worrying about her.”

“Are you referring to obtaining the file for Thurston?”

“Yes, but how do you know about that?” He no sooner got the question out of his mouth then the obvious answer hit.

Dennis looked at him and smiled. “Yes, what you're thinking is correct. Your project was part of an FBI sting assigned to Susan. Obviously, she couldn't tell you anything about it.”

“So she strung me along, letting me think she was working on my case, when all the time I was working on hers.” His male pride was beginning to show a little; actually, a whole lot.

“I wouldn't quite put it like that, Mark. Both cases are part of the same investigation. Let me explain.”

“Okay, explain it to me, I just can't wait to hear the whole story,” he said very sarcastically.

Dennis took a deep breath. “Well, to start with, the Defense Department contacted Peter Thurston to enlist his help. He's one of our biggest defense suppliers; of course you know that. More importantly, he's on the board of the NRBA. Our target, as you might have guessed by now, is the National Rare Blood Association. We suspect them of diverting money to terrorist organizations overseas. The previous National Director of the NRBA, Dr. Cartwright tipped us off about some secret payments sent abroad, and since Thurston is a Director as well as a rare blood donor, we decided to enlist his help in accessing their records.” He stopped for a minute to let everything sink in. “It was Susan who recommended you to us because of your prior work together at the Pentagon. I agreed with her choice, but not for that reason alone, which I'll get to later. When you two hacked the Association's records, Susan matched the disbursements against a list of suspected organizations and came up with a list that showed over fifty million dollars in illegal payments. We're waiting on the Justice Department for the proper subpoenas, which we expect to get around noon today. Then the NRBA is going down.”

“Well, that all sounds like good news.” Mark was softening a bit. “So, what's the problem, then? Where is Susan now?

“It is good news, Mark, but unfortunately, there has been some collateral damage.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“It's Susan. We think she's been abducted.”

“What the hell do you mean, you think?”

“She's vanished. We found her condo unlocked, and her gun is missing from her car. Her badge, ID and purse were left behind, so it doesn't look like a robbery. Although cash was missing from her wallet, her credit cards and driver's license were there. No one in the neighborhood saw anything. It looks like she might have been out jogging, or maybe had just returned from jogging. We're not certain. We did find a full glass of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers on the kitchen counter, and the TV was on. We estimate the timeline at between seven and ten last night. Since they missed her badge and ID, they probably don't know that she's a federal agent. Of course, I can't be sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.”

Mark had a flashback to the day he spotted the gun in the trunk of Susan's car. What if he had questioned her then? Would anything be different? He felt empty.

“Well, if she has her gun with her, couldn't she be out doing some investigating?”

“That's always possible, but she would have taken her car, shield and ID with her,” Dennis answered.

After a while, Mark asked, “What about that guy John Portman that visited her yesterday. He's the NRBA Security Director. She thought that he might be trouble.”

“I know, she told me about him too. I asked her if she wanted protection, but she said no. She thought he would do everything through the courts. Now I see she may have been mistaken. We traced him to a motel room in Hudson just minutes ago, but he had already checked out this morning about a half-hour before we got there. We're watching the airports. We know he came into Hopkins two days ago on an open-ended ticket. If he tries to use it at any airport, we will nab him, but right now the trail is cold.”

“So, what are you doing to find Susan?”

“We're doing everything we can, Mark. Portman is our best lead. We do not believe that he has returned to Denver, at least not on a commercial flight. We're watching a number of private airports as well. We are putting together a case team up in Cleveland right now. That brings me to the second reason that Susan gave me your name. She's been working solo for me since I recruited her. She's been operating a very sophisticated, top secret computer center hidden behind her business office. About six months ago, Washington ordered me to start recruiting for a backup for her. They feel it is too important an operation to depend solely on one person. That's being proven now. When I approached Susan about a backup, without hesitation she gave me your name. As it turned out, you were already on my short list of candidates. I don't know if you realize it, Mark, but you still have some very influential friends at the Pentagon. In the last few months I've conducted a thorough check on you and your operation down here, and I've concluded that you would be the right man for the job. The Thurston Electronics assignment was sort of your introduction into the organization. I wish it was working out better.”

Dennis removed some papers from his suit jacket and laid them on the table. “That's a contract for you to join the FBI as a covert Special Agent/Intelligence and Analysis section. We want you to continue to operate your PI practice as a cover and work on classified assignments for us as they come along, but most the most important thing is to groom you as Susan's backup. The FBI will back you up with a duplicate of Susan's computer configuration. We will provide you with whatever support and training is required.” He stopped for a minute to give everything a chance to sink in. “I know this seems very unorthodox, Mark. I thought that I would have more time. But I have to ask you for your answer right now. If you say yes, I'm prepared to immediately sign you on as an Agent ‘ad tempus,' and I'll expect you to come back to Cleveland with me to join in the search for Susan. Eventually, you'll have to go to Virginia to undergo seventeen or eighteen weeks of training. What do you say?”

“If I say no, are you going to have to kill me?”

Peterson was startled by his question. When the smile broke out on Mark's face, he realized that he had been taken-in by one of the oldest jokes in law enforcement. “I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. I've always been amused by that line. Of course I accept, and not just because Susan is missing. I would be very proud to become a Special Agent. I am really sorry for the way I acted before.”

“It is very understandable under the circumstances. This has been a shock for all of us. You think you have everything covered, only to be blindsided at the last minute.”

Mark picked up the contract, scanned it quickly and penned his signature. “Just give me a few minutes to get my gun and some computer programs. I think I've got some software in my office down stairs that may be of help in locating her.”

“Well then, welcome aboard, Special Agent Matthews.” They shook hands and he said, “I've got a helicopter waiting for us at Wright-Pat AFB. Grab your stuff and let's go.”

Mark hurried down to his office. He unlocked his desk and removed a false bottom in the top side drawer. That's where he kept his gun. His personal choice had always been the Sig Sauer P229, a semi-automatic that comes with a twelve round cartridge. He grabbed the pistol, the slide holster, six cartridges and a disc album. He selected several discs from the storage rack, placed them in the album and put everything into a gym bag. He was ready to go.

They arrived at the Cleveland Office of the FBI around ten o'clock. As they entered the building, he took a minute to read the FBI motto: “Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity.” Mark choked up a bit. They stopped at the reception desk to pick up the temporary badge and shield that Peterson had called ahead for. Then they went by the “Major Case Room,” where several agents were already busy at work. Dennis had assigned leadership of this task force to Special Agent John Wellman, one of the three Assistant Special Agents in Charge in the Cleveland office. He was on the phone when they reached his office. He motioned for them to sit down, put down the phone and addressed Dennis, “I am sure glad you are back.”

“Thanks, John. Let me introduce you to our new Special Agent, Mark Matthews. He'll be working in Intelligence and Analysis. You'll recall that he worked with Susan on the Thurston project. Mark is going to be Susan's backup, and he'll continue to operate as a Private Investigator down in Centerville. Right now, I've asked him to join us on the task force to help locate her.”

“It's nice meeting you, Mark. We can certainly use all the help we can get. I've heard a lot of good things about you. You're a welcome addition to the team.”

“It's nice meeting you too, John”

“We're just about to have a meeting to see where we stand. I've commandeered the MCR for the duration.”

The Major Case Room was now filled with at least twenty agents. Wellman went right to the podium. “Good Morning, I am John Wellman. For those of you who may not know me, I'm the new ASAC. I just transferred in from Los Angeles, so I haven't as yet gotten the chance to get around and meet all of you personally. Please just call me John. Dennis asked me to head up this search operation. As you know, this involves one of our own, Special Agent Susan Harrigan of the Intelligence and Analysis section. She's been missing for over sixteen hours now. We have every reason to believe that she has been abducted. Each of you is picked for this task force. Together we are going to find her.” Mark's stomach tightened as listened to the details of her disappearance. He decided to stop beating myself up over not being there for her. Right now, he needed to do what he was trained to do to help secure her release. That's all that mattered. He sucked it up.

As Wellman was concluding the meeting, he asked, “What do we know about the whereabouts of John Portman?”

An agent in the back of the room spoke up, “We are watching all surrounding airports. His ticket in from Denver was open ended. It is quite possible that he doesn't even know we're looking for him. We got his picture from one of the Association's pamphlets and we've circulated it. I hope it's current. As of one o'clock today, he will be on our internal ‘Most Wanted' list.”

“Good. Who's working on possible hostage locations?”

“I am, John, Special Agent Norton. So far I don't have any strong leads. I could use some help if anyone is available.”

Mark stood up. “Special Agent Mark Matthews, here.” It felt strange as he said it for the first time. “If you can direct me to an open computer, I can do some searches for you.”

Norton replied, “That would sure help a lot, Mark.”

Wellman spoke up, “Where are my manners? Everyone, this is Special Agent Mark Matthews. He just joined us today. He's assigned to Intelligence and Analysis.” After introductions, Wellman brought the meeting to a close. “We will meet again in two hours. If anything breaks in the interim, get to Cen-Com immediately. Make sure they know how to reach you at all times. We have to be ready to move at a moment's notice. That's all for now. Let's get this done.”

Norton and Mark went to the cubicle next door. He pointed to the computer. “Will this one do?”

“Yes, that will be perfect. I just need to be able to access my home computer. I brought the software I'll need with me. I'll do a scan for any buildings that the NRBA owns or occupies within a radius of 100 miles. I will need about ten minutes to set it up and do the scan.”

Norton turned to leave. “I'll be back later, then. Again, thanks for the help. I was really drawing a blank with this. If you need me, you can reach me on line twenty-two.”

“I'm glad I can help. I sure hope this stuff works.”