Hunting Season (15 page)

No. He could not classify it. He wanted to use the nightscope, but that battery was limited, and he normally did not use it until he had a firm directional cue from the cone. If someone was moving around down at the end of the street, there was no way to tell precisely where in this maze of concrete buildings. Then the sounds stopped. He slewed the cone back and forth, trying to regain contact, but now there was only the small breeze. And then there was the unmistakable loud sound of a metal door closing, somewhere out there among all those buildings.

He took off the earpieces of the stethoscope and sat back on his haunches. That had been a door, which meant they were definitely doing something inside one of the big buildings. Probably a drug lab of some kind. He sniffed the night air, but the breeze was blowing toward that end of the street. He looked into the darkness; the only thing he could make out was the tall stack of the power plant, and that was beyond where he thought the noises had come from. Two men, who knew their way around this complex in the dark, were doing something in one of the buildings.

Should he go down and probe that end of the street? And run into some more traps? He had to do something.

And then he had an idea. It had sounded as if they had parked that truck. He would back out and go see about that vehicle. It would have a tag, and a tag would lead to a name, and with a name, he could find an address. That would make things a lot simpler than prowling around this place, where they had had time to rig defenses.

Jared opened the door and shone the light inside. She was right where she was supposed to be. He flashed the light around the room, which was a hundred feet long, seventy wide, and four stories in overall height. There were several cable ways and electrical boxes on the walls, and two large steel garage-type doors at either end. Prominent red NO smoking signs were painted every ten feet along the walls. A set of rusting rail tracks was embedded in the concrete floor, right down the middle. The lighting fixtures suspended overhead were devoid of bulbs, so the only light she would ever see was the daylight that came through the grimy skylights.

There was a single steel walk-through door to one side of the larger sealed doors at each end of the building. Otherwise, it was empty, the machinery and the workers long gone, with only the smell of chemicals lingering in the old concrete to give any indication of its previous function.

He shoved the bag of food inside the door and then stepped inside. He put the Maglite down on the floor, pointing at the silent figure in the middle of the room. He pushed the door shut, then backed up against it.

“Stand up,” he ordered. She didn’t move.

“You want this water?” he asked, tapping the plastic bottle with his boot.

“Or you want me to take it back outside? Stand up.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she got on her hands and knees, and then stood up.

The blindfold hid most of her face. The flashlight now pointed at her feet. She was taller than he had remembered, but the loose clothes could not disguise her fine figure. There was definite defiance in her posture, and Jared didn’t like that. Jared liked his women compliant.

“Turn your back to the door,” he ordered.

She complied, and he reached for the light and played it over her body.

“Take your shirt off,” he said.

She just stood there. He waited for her to say something, but she remained silent.

“I said, take your goddamned shirt off.”

She did not move. Jared reached down and picked up one of the three water bottles. He twisted the top off with an audible snapping sound, then poured the entire bottle out onto the concrete. It made an unmistakable sound, and he thought he saw her stiffen when he did it.

“Take your shirt off,” he said again, discarding the now-empty bottle onto the concrete floor, where it clattered into a corner.

This time, she did it, pulling the shirt over her head and dropping it onto the floor.

“Now your halter,” he said.

“Do it.”

She paused for a few seconds, then slipped out of her sports bra. He played the flashlight over her back and ordered her to turn around. She slumped a little and then complied. Her breasts were everything he expected, although her ribs were showing in the harsh white light. Must be the diet here, he thought with a mental guffaw.

“Now the rest of it.”

She hesitated again, turning a little bit, as if to shield herself. He picked up another water bottle and shook it.

“The rest of it. Do it! Now!”

She complied, bending forward to take off the rest other clothes. Then she straightened up and took a deep breath. Her hands hung down at her sides.

“Turn sideways,” Jared commanded, playing the flashlight over her white

body. She did as he ordered, and then he told her to get down on her hands and knees. She bent her head to one side for a moment, as if trying to figure out what he was going to do. But then she got down on her hands and knees, her body in profile to him.

Jared walked over to the pile of blankets and then walked all the way around her, enjoying his rising excitement. Damn, she has a great body, he thought. She must work out.

“Put your head down,” he said, still walking around her. She sighed, the first sound she’d made. Then she put her head down on the blankets.

Jared continued to walk around her, circling her like a predator, reveling in her utterly vulnerable position. He was just about to approach her when he thought he heard something out on the street. He immediately switched off the flashlight.

“Not bad, girlie,” he said softly.

“Not bad a-tall. Next time, we’ll do something about all that.”

He went to the door, listened carefully, and then stepped back through, pulling it shut softly but firmly. He replaced the padlock and closed the bail into the base of the lock as quietly as he could. He turned around and moved sideways to the corner of the building, waiting for his eyes to adjust to darkness again. As his ears strained to detect any noises out on the street, his mind’s eye replayed the scene inside, the great-looking girl with her rump in the air, totally helpless, asking for it, he was sure. Not so defiant, was she, not once she was down there on the blankets. His throat thickened. He’d definitely come back, get him some of that. He listened some more, but there was nothing going on, no one here but him and that crazy old man in there, brewing up his bomb.

On Thursday morning, Janet Carter arrived a half an hour late because of a monster traffic jam. She was surprised to find Billy waiting for her at the security desk when she entered the federal building.

“Thought I ought to warn you,” he announced as they badged in and bypassed the metal-detector station.

“There are some people upstairs in Farnsworth’s office, want to talk to you.”

“

“Some people’?”

“Yeah. One guy’s from the FCI Division at Bureau headquarters; the

other one, a woman, is from Main Justice, I think. Looks like a pro wrestler in drag. Larry Talbot is acting like he’s about to get fired. He thinks it’s about that missing college students case.”

Janet frowned. She’d dropped the Kreiss case after talking to the shrink. She’s been busy for the past two days reviewing the evidentiary report on a complicated truck hijacking case that was going to be heavily dependent on physical evidence. It had been almost refreshing to work in her specialty again.

“Hasn’t that whole deal gone up the line to MP?” she asked as they got on the elevator.

“Yep. Sent it up Tuesday to Richmond. I thought you were off that thing.”

“I am. I haven’t touched it since—” “Since?” Billy asked quietly.

“Well, I’d already made one call, Friday, before the boss fanged me about it. Lady called back Monday, but it wasn’t anything conclusive.

Some history about one of the parents.”

“Edwin Kreiss perhaps?”

“Well…” she said, making a face. She pushed the button for the fourth floor and then swiped her security card. She remembered that she’d briefed Billy on the case.

“Well, wait till you get a load of the political appointee gorgon from Justice,” Billy said, suppressing a yawn.

“Serious shit.”

They went directly to their office, where they found Larry Talbot pacing around like a nervous cat. His eyes lit up when he caught sight of Janet.

“We need to talk,” he announced without preamble.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Billy said there’re some people from Washington? To see me?”

“Yes, indeedy,” Talbot said, taking her elbow and pulling her to one side of the office. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.

“I think it’s something about that Kreiss character. Is there something you need to back-brief me on?”

She explained about the call to the staff psychologist, keeping the exact timing of the calls a little vague.

“But that was it, and Billy’s already sent the case file to Washington via the Richmond field office. I’ve been on the Wentworth Trucking case since then. What’s the big deal?”

Talbot looked around for Billy, but he had left the office.

“Whatever it is, the boss had to leave his conference early and come back here to deal with it.”

Janet blinked.

“Not to be repetitious, Larry, but what’s the problem? I tied off a loose end with a case that’s been sent to MP. End of story.”

Talbot shook his head.

“Farnsworth is pissed. He’s acting like you went up to D.C. and burgled the director’s office.” He looked at his watch.

“Shit. You need to get downstairs.”

“Jesus, Larry, can’t I at least get some coffee?”

“I wouldn’t advise it, Janet,” he said.

“This is no time to look routine.”

Janet rolled her eyes and went back down to Farnsworth’s office, which was on the third floor. His secretary, a professionally unpleasant woman who hailed from Arkansas, announced that the RA was in conference with some Washington people. Janet patiently asked her to tell Farnsworth that she was there. The secretary sighed dramatically and buzzed this news into Farnsworth. He appeared at the door to his office a moment later and asked Janet to come in.

The two Washington visitors were sitting at the conference table. One was a large woman, whose fat face reminded Janet of a recent Russian premier. She was looking at Janet with undisguised suspicion. The other visitor was a man in his fifties, also rather large, almost completely bald, with a reddish face and a permanently scowling expression. Farnsworth made introductions. The woman’s name was Bellhouser; the red-faced man’s name was Foster.

“Agent Carter, these folks have driven down from Washington. Ms.

Bellhouser is the executive assistant to Mr. Bill Garrette, who, as I’m sure you know, is the deputy attorney general of the United States. Mr. Foster is the principal deputy to Assistant Director Marchand.”

Janet noted Farnsworth’s sudden formality. She knew that Marchand was the assistant director over Counterintelligence at FBI headquarters.

She had heard of Garrette, but only in the context of his being acting deputy attorney general without benefit of Senate confirmation for the past four years. She nodded, waiting for Farnsworth to invite her to sit down. Surprisingly, he did not.

“Agent Carter,” he said.

“You apparently made recent inquiries about a certain Edwin Kreiss. Ms. Bellhouser and Mr. Foster are interested in why you’re interested.”

Janet took it upon herself to sit down in the only remaining chair.

Farnsworth was acting as if he had never heard of Edwin Kreiss, so she decided to play along and speak directly to him, as if bringing him into the picture for the first time. She reviewed the circumstances of

her involvement with Kreiss. She glossed over the call to the Counseling Division as tying off a loose end before sending up the case file.

“Let’s dispense with the bullshit, Agent Carter,” the woman said when Janet was done. Her voice was as harsh as her expression.

“You persisted in asking questions about Kreiss after you were given specific instructions by the RA here to back off that case. We want to know why.”

Janet looked at Farnsworth as if to say, I thought I just explained that.

The RA kept his expression blank. She turned to Bellhouser.

“I wasn’t aware that I was indulging in bullshit,” she said coolly.

“I asked the original question before I was told to drop it. When Dr. Kellermann was courteous enough to call right back, I took her call. What she had to say didn’t add anything substantial. It is entirely standard procedure to question parents in some detail when their kids go missing. It’s also standard procedure to check them out. What’s the problem here, if I may ask?”

“The problem is Edwin Kreiss,” the woman answered.

“Mr. Kreiss was responsible for an incident that deeply embarrassed both the Department of Justice and the Bureau. Inquiries about him or what he did are not authorized, and, in fact, are cause for alarm.”

“Well excuse me all to hell,” Janet said, trying not to lose her temper.

“I

was investigating the disappearance of his daughter. He is just another citizen as far as I’m concerned, a parent who’s lost his kid. One more time:

What’s the problem?”

The woman sat back in her chair, her expression saying that she wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. Foster intervened.

“Part of the problem is that we did not know Edwin Kreiss’s daughter had gone missing,” he said.

“But—” Bellhouser held up her hand in an imperious gesture, and Foster stopped. She gave Janet a speculative look.

“Perhaps I should clarify a few things for you, Agent Carter. But I want your word that what I’m going to tell you will not be repeated to anyone.” She had changed her tone of voice and was now being a lot more polite.

“Is this something I need to know, then?” Janet asked.

“Because I’m willing to forget Mr. Kreiss, if that’s the order of the day. My interest in him was entirely professional, not personal.”

Bellhouser thought for a moment. Foster was strangely silent.