Full Disclosure (19 page)

“We are going to mail the documents overnight mail via the post office. It will be big and blue and be put into the mailbox. If we tried another delivery service, the package gets left between the screen door and the front door, and we can't see it. I want eyes on the package at all times, and I can see it if it's in the mailbox.”

Sam paused a moment, then said, “It's possible the homeowner is involved in this. So we have a plan for that contingency. We'll be watching the homeowner. We'll have a team on his car at the school, and we'll know when he leaves for home. If she hasn't taken the package before he gets home, we'll assume he's involved. We'll have a warrant to monitor his home phone and the cellphone we know about, but the concern is he's carrying a burner phone. So when he gets his mail, we will jam the cell towers so he has to call her on the house line. If he calls someone, we'll follow where that call leads us. If he doesn't do anything, we will wait and tail him whenever he leaves the house.

“My guess, she'll step in and take the package from his mailbox. But since she doesn't know when the reply will arrive, she has to have someone in the neighborhood watching for it to arrive, or she has someone checking the mail every day. We're going to have a problem being stationed around the neighborhood and not being seen. The biggest risk is she spots us and abandons the pickup. If there's no activity after forty-eight hours, she well may have decided to walk away. At that point we will step in and interview the homeowner.”

“It's a good plan. You're using agents from the local office?”

“Yes. They think we're investigating someone leaking classified documents. Are you sure you don't want to be there, boss? It's going to be an interesting chase.”

“If something goes wrong, she's going to be contacting us again. It's better if I'm here. You pick her up, and we'll celebrate together when you get back.”

“I'll head out just as soon as you have the document.”

“I'll be back with it signed in about two hours.”

The next morning, Paul set up a series of monitors and audio feeds in the war room, with the names Sam, Rita, and Ann labeled on the feeds. He would spend much of the next few weeks in this secure room, reading, listening to updates, working problems, and he might as well be organized and comfortable while he did so. Rita would focus on the tapes, Sam on catching the lady shooter, and he'd work on answers to the questions sketched out on the board.

“Sam, audio check.”

“You're loud and clear, boss. Five minutes and I'll have a feed for you of the mailbox I'm watching.”

“I've got a monitor open for it.”

“Rita.”

She was in the audio lab downstairs and looked over to wave at the camera. “Boss, you should see the tools Nathan has in here. He can make me sing on perfect pitch.”

“Enjoy it.” Paul knew Rita and Nathan had set up the original taping equipment the middleman had on his phones in order to test out what could be used as additional authentication for the tapes.

Paul tried a secure call to Ann. Her picture appeared, stabilized. “Hi, gorgeous.”

She glanced over and grinned. “You're being kind.”

She was home. He could see her living room behind her. “What are you doing?”

“Working on a story.”

“Mind if I leave you up on the monitor? This is the war room just off the conference room. I'm in monitor mode. The reply gets delivered today, and Sam is running the op to try and catch her.”

“No problem. When it gets busy there, just mute me out so I don't have to try and follow your conference-room chatter. I'll wave if I want you to toss audio back on.”

“Will do. Good story?”

“Ask me in a few hours.”

“I'll do that.”

He muted her screen as he saw a mailbox appear on the far screen. “I'm getting your feed, Sam.”

The package had been sitting in the mailbox for the last two hours, and nothing approached the mailbox except a sparrow looking for somewhere to land. Paul was watching the same video as Sam. “I hate this waiting.”

Ann paused what she was typing to glance over. She pointed to the plate on his table. “Eat. From your personnel file I would have thought you were an expert at stakeouts.”

“I'm remembering now why I enjoy leaving fieldwork to others. You've started reading my file?”

“I have.”

He reached for the sandwich. She didn't volunteer anything else about what she'd read or what she thought. He wanted to start a conversation, but while her hands were on the keyboard he was trying to keep his remarks to her at a minimum. He forced his attention back to Sam. “Sam, how are you doing?”

Sam put a hand into the mailbox video feed to wave. “I'm having to get up and pace to keep my legs from going to sleep. She's good at this, boss. She didn't show up five minutes after the mail arrived when we were most ready to react.”

“I hear you.” The afternoon was wearing on.

Paul finished the sandwich. He picked up an interview only
to put it back down, and then simply took a few more minutes to watch Ann. She had been typing at a good clip ever since he had put her up on the monitor this morning. She paused occasionally to scroll back in the text to read a few pages, often stopping entirely just to look at the screen and think. This was Ann writing, and he would really like to know what she was working on.

He felt something as he watched her that didn't easily get defined. Enjoyment certainly. Fascination. And something a lot more tender.

“Boss.”

“Yes, Sam.” Paul put his finger on the printout to mark his place and looked to the monitor, expecting to see someone heading for the mailbox, but there was no movement on the video.

“The homeowner is on his way from school. No one's picked up the package yet. We have to assume he's somehow involved in this. We're getting ready to jam the cell towers once he retrieves his mail.”

“At least it gets interesting if he's someone who knows who she is, rather than just a random bystander whose mailbox she's using. Let me know when you can.”

“Will do.”

Rita joined him in the war room. Paul read the audio report she handed him. The tapes would hold up in court.

“He's home, boss,” Sam said.

Paul watched the car pulling into the garage and waited for the homeowner to open the front door and retrieve his mail from the front porch mailbox. Twenty minutes passed. The front door stayed closed; the package stayed where it was.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Rita finally said.

Paul slid her one of the quarters he had been walking through his fingers as he killed time. “Welcome to an afternoon of adrenaline-filled stillness.”

Forty minutes later, the front door opened.

“He just retrieved the mail,” Sam told his team. “Larry, jam the towers. Let's force him to the house line if he makes a call.”

Paul watched the front door close and waited for word from Sam there was a call being intercepted. The garage door stayed closed, the front door too. Paul gave it an hour. “Sam?”

“This is not good. He's made no calls. He's not preparing to leave. My guys are reporting he's in the kitchen fixing dinner.”

“Wonderful. Did anyone see what he did with the mail?”

“No. He didn't have it in his hands when he entered the kitchen, and we didn't see him go upstairs. We don't have good angles on the rest of the house. Boss, we need to release the jam on the cell towers.”

“Agreed. And watch for someone to approach the house once it grows dark. He's waiting for someone or some particular time.”

“We're adjusting for that now.”

“What are you thinking, Rita?”

“She knows we would be watching the address. He isn't making any move to take the package to her. So she asked him to repackage it and mail it to another address?”

“Maybe. Or she thought through what we would do and is countering it. We were the ones eager to see her take the package, and she's countering with a long delay and patience, waiting to throw us off our game. She's doing a good job of it.” Paul leaned back in his chair and picked up his quarter. “We've got no choice but to watch and wait.”

“Boss?”

“We're still here, Sam.”

“It looks like he's turning in for the night. He hasn't done anything, gone anywhere, hasn't made a call. He just got the package, and he's apparently waiting.”

“We do the same. Settle in, Sam, but rotate guys to keep fresh
eyes on the house. She shows up at three a.m. and he's left the back door open for her, this could happen fast.”

“Will do. Go home, boss. I'll call you if there's anything. You too, Rita.”

Rita covered a yawn, and gave an apologetic smile. “That sounds like good advice.”

Paul glanced at the monitor where Ann was still working. She'd ducked out for half an hour to fix herself a sandwich, then left for about an hour to walk Black, but otherwise she'd been writing the entire day. It looked like her concentration was fully engaged and she was still going strong. “I'll stay around a bit longer.”

Rita got up, glanced at the screen for Ann, and smiled at Paul. “You have to admire her ability to work. She makes me tired just watching her.”

“It's the first time I've seen her working on a story beyond just yellow legal pads and handwritten notes. It's been instructive.”

Rita picked up a marker and added a note to the board. “I underestimated our lady shooter. She knows how to create an opening. I don't know her plan, but I'm beginning to appreciate what it might be. We're getting distracted and fragmented, and he's just sitting there. Our homeowner leaves, does he take the package with him or leave it behind in his house? A few days from now when he goes to school, does he take the package with him or leave it behind in his house? Another few hours or few days of this, she catches us at a shift change, she arranges a distraction, she might be able to walk up to the house and walk out with the package.”