Resistant (31 page)

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Authors: Michael Palmer

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BOOK: Resistant
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“What did Snyder say?”

“She’s freaked and so am I. It was her call on my advice to get the search warrant for the lab first and use that as probable cause to get a warrant to search Miller’s apartment and question him. That may have cost us a couple of hours. Now she’s feeling the heat from above.”

Vaill never questioned Snyder’s decision to move cautiously on Miller. She never acted impulsively, which is why there were jokes about her sleeping with the FBI’s procedures manual under her pillow. Snyder’s commitment to protocol was probably the reason she’d risen in the ranks while Vaill was still in the field.

Now, in spite of himself, Vaill began considering a rushing stream of other explanations for this latest disaster—especially the possibility that Burke wasn’t the only one in the agency who was working for the Society of One Hundred Neighbors.

The first mention of Humphrey Miller and his connection to Ahmed Kazimi had come from Lou Welcome at two-thirty that morning, and had almost immediately been relayed to Beth by McCall. Who she talked to after that was anyone’s guess. Now Miller was gone and a woman was dead in his apartment, with the stench of Alexander Burke’s close-range M.O. hanging heavy in the air. Even after exhaustive backtracking, to this day, nobody knew how the killer had infiltrated the organization. Did he have help from the inside? If so, someone else in the agency was on One Hundred Neighbors’ payroll.

“Chuck,” Vaill asked, “did you put Humphrey Miller’s name into the I.D.W. after you phoned it in to Beth?”

I.D.W. stood for Investigation Data Warehouse, and it was where all leads associated with active cases got logged in by the investigating agents. Vaill knew that he was being intentionally cagey with his partner. Their pairing was fairly new. How much did he really know about the man? What if McCall had worked his way onto the investigation team the same way Burke had infiltrated Kazimi’s security detail?

Vaill’s mind was spinning.

This was the second major security breach. Who in the hell could he trust?

“Right after I called Snyder I keyed the new leads into the I.D.W. from my phone,” McCall replied.

More possible sources of leaks. The I.D.W hadn’t been in place long, and already had a reputation as a sieve.

Vaill pried the curtains apart. Bright sunlight hit him like a straight-on jab. He squinted against the glare and the renewed throbbing, and sucked down three extra-strength Tylenols without any water. In passing, he considered reporting his suspicions to Internal Affairs. But if the leaker turned out to be someone high up the food chain, they’d probably get Vaill kicked off the investigation within hours, if not out of the agency altogether. For the moment at least, he decided that his best chance to avenge Maria would be to operate in the shadows while keeping his mistrust for the FBI a secret.

“So,” McCall was saying, “how about letting Welcome fester a bit longer in jail and come check out Miller’s apartment with me?”

There were rules for how long Welcome could be detained without due process, but like anything pertaining to terrorism, those rules could be bent or even broken. Still, McCall had unknowingly brought up yet another consideration. If One Hundred Neighbors wanted Humphrey dead or captured, it was reasonable to assume they could be targeting Lou Welcome as well. Those two men were more than passing acquaintances. Since he no longer trusted the FBI, Vaill knew he alone had to protect Welcome, at least until he got more facts.

“I’m getting another call, Chuck,” Vaill lied. “Hang on the line a second.”

Vaill cupped the phone and counted slowly to twenty. Maria often complimented his ability to think creatively. Exhausted as he was, he at least had not lost a step in that regard.

“Chuck, are you still there?” he asked finally.

“I’m here.”

“That was Welcome. Apparently he’s got more information to share about the Neighbors, and he wants to cut a deal. But for whatever reason he says he’ll only talk to me, and he won’t do it there. I’m going to go and get him.”

“Then what are you going to do?” McCall asked. “You need help?”

“Not as long as there are handcuffs in the world. I’ll take him into protective custody and just learn what he has to say.”

It was a good lie because McCall would have no reason to bring it to Snyder’s attention … unless the two of them were connected in other ways.

“Okay,” McCall said. “I’ll be at Miller’s. Call or meet me there after.”

He gave Vaill the address.

“Sounds good. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Vaill showered quickly and got dressed, thinking that if McCall turned out to be the mole, he’d have no problem shooting to kill.

 

CHAPTER 39

           Where there is no entitlement, there is no iniquity.

        
—LANCASTER R. HILL,
100 Neighbors
, SAWYER RIVER BOOKS, 1939, P. 12

The electronic release buzzed open a heavy steel door, and the two burly U.S. Marshals who had handcuffed Lou’s wrists behind him escorted him into the small foyer of a rear entrance in the Atlanta jail. Having been briefed on the punch list of procedures he could expect, Lou was a bit surprised his ankles and wrists hadn’t been chained for this trip to the courthouse. He was also surprised that there was no other security ready to transport him. The only one waiting in the dim light was FBI Special Agent Timothy Vaill.

“The face is familiar,” Lou said, pointing at him. “Haven’t I seen you some place before?”

“These guys take decent care of you?”

“They wouldn’t look like they’re both on steroids if they had to eat the food here, but yes, they’ve all been okay. Thanks for caring. Now, about the lawyer I never got a chance to call.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, the court would have appointed one for you, and he or she would have scheduled an arraignment date. No big deal, and no matter. You’re still my prisoner, and I have some things I need to speak with you about.”

Even in the subdued light Lou could see the strain enveloping the man’s eyes. Something had gone wrong.

“You don’t look so good,” he said.

“Neither do you.”

“Got me there,” Lou said, grinning.

He had caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror in the guards’ room as they passed by. His five o’clock shadow had grown to about quarter after eleven, and the date clothes he had worn to meet Vicki—dark jeans and a nice oxford shirt—looked like they had been rescued from a gas station’s collection bin. The orange jumpsuit, he had been told, would come after he was returned to his cell to await arraignment. In truth, even the nasty times on the street had not prepared him for this experience.

But now it didn’t seem like court was in his immediate future. Instead, it appeared that something had gone wrong. Maybe very wrong. His first thought was Cap.

A nod from Vaill, and the burlier marshal with the nameplate Gomes pinned to his tan shirt undid Lou’s handcuffs long enough to have them replaced by the ones brought in by Vaill.

“You’re still my prisoner until you’ve been formally charged,” he said, “so no screwing around or I’ll hurt you.”

“Nicely put,” Lou said. “Very nice.”

“He’s all yours, my friend,” the marshal pronounced. “If he doesn’t work or should he break, just bring him back for a full refund.”

“Thanks, boys. I’m hoping the good doctor is going to be more cooperative this time around.”

Vaill signed some papers then took hold of Lou’s arm and led him out. The familiar, nondescript gray sedan was parked nearby. Lou settled into the backseat, turned away from the mesh screen, and watched the jailhouse shrink from view as they drove away. There had been times when the American justice system had actually been kind to him. The last eighteen or so hours had not been one of them.

“You’re not going back there again, doc,” Vaill said, eyeing Lou in the rearview mirror.

Lou swung around to face him.

“No judge?” he asked.

“No judge. Things have changed.”

Vaill pulled the car to an abrupt stop, opened a rear door, and unlocked Lou’s handcuffs.

“You were right when you said I was entering wonderland,” Lou said.

“You want to sit up front?”

“Okay, I get it. This some new form of torture to replace waterboarding, right? Confession by confusion. I’ll come up front, but only after you tell me what this is all about.”

Vaill sighed.

“Your pal Humphrey Miller has gone missing,” he said. “A woman was found shot dead in his apartment and Miller is nowhere to be found. I have a strong feeling that the person who shot her was the son of a bitch who killed my Maria. If so, that means the Neighbors have both Kazimi and Miller. I think I mentioned the bastard’s name last night. Burke—Alexander Burke. Listen, you’re not a prisoner anymore, doc, so join me up front if you want.”

“Tell me everything,” Lou said, numbly sinking onto the seat Vaill’s partner had occupied.

“We sent agents to Miller’s place and to your basement lab at Arbor General. The lab was right where you said it was. Miller didn’t show up for work this morning. Now we got a dead body and another missing microbiologist. I’m guessing he’s been kidnapped, not killed—at least not yet. The Neighbors are getting desperate, but damn, they are good. That’s where we stand.”

Lou buried his face in his hands as Vaill eased back into traffic.

“Cap,” he whispered.

Vaill shook his head, making no attempt to mask his empathy.

“No miracle cures waiting to happen,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

For a minute, two, there was only silence.

“So, what do you think?” Lou was finally able to ask.

“I think there’s a significant security breach at the FBI. That’s what I think. If there is, that’s how Burke got onto the detail that was guarding Kazimi. Until now, I thought he did it on his own—learned enough about the Neighbors and their beliefs to locate them and offer himself up or else just sell Kazimi to them. But now that the information we got from you somehow already made it back to the Neighbors, I have to believe there’s someone inside the agency who turned Burke. I just don’t know who.”

Vaill appeared genuinely distraught. If this was subterfuge and gamesmanship on the part of the FBI, designed to squeeze more information from Lou, it was a masterful performance.

“Tell me you didn’t know there was a leak when I gave up Humphrey’s name,” Lou demanded.

“I didn’t know. I swear it.”

“What does McCall think?”

Vaill looked over at him.

“Do you see him riding with us?” he asked.

“You think McCall could be part of this?”

“I don’t know what to think or who to trust. Right now, I’m navigating by instinct. I may have already cost two people their lives and I’m not about to do it to a third.”

“You mean me,” Lou said.

Vaill said nothing, which was answer enough.

Lou knew when he gave up Humphrey that he’d made a mistake. But the government had far surpassed his expectations for screwing up, and now Humphrey was either a prisoner of the Neighbors or dead. Lou had one card left in his hand—the notebook Humphrey gave him. And until he had reason to do otherwise, he vowed to hold that card close to his vest.

But time was running out for Cap.

“I shouldn’t have told you his name,” Lou said, as much to himself as to Vaill.

Vaill looked over at him.

“Hey, we’re just as good at what we do as you are at what you do, doctor. You didn’t stand a chance against us.”

The remark took some of the guilt away.

“So what now?” Lou asked.

“Too bad you gave us your hotel. McCall probably included it in his report, and whoever the mole is, if there is a mole, would have access to it.”

“Except that I lied.”

“What?”

“I made up a hotel. At the time you asked, I had decided not to make anything easier for you.”

Vaill pumped his fist and clenched his teeth.

“Yes!” he said. “Then no one can possibly know. First I’ve got to be certain we’re not being followed. Then we get you to your hotel and you double-lock yourself in and turn on a marathon James Bond retrospective or whatever.”

“You really think I’m in danger?”

“Listen, I get what you were doing with Humphrey,” Vaill said. “You wanted to save your friend’s life, no matter what you had to do, even if it meant being an accessory to grand larceny and setting up an illegal lab. Hell, I’d probably have done the same thing. But the truth is, like it or not, you’ve gotten yourself connected to the Neighbors. We can take a chance on putting you back in jail, but those people are heavily financed and very resourceful. If they want you, you’re not even safe behind bars.”

And I have something they may really want,
Lou thought, picturing Humphrey’s book.

“Let’s see,” he said, “my hotel room or a return to jail … Tough choice. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

Vaill peered through the rearview and side mirrors and began a series of turns clearly designed to pick up a tail.

“Wish I knew this place better,” he muttered, swerving onto a freeway entrance at the last possible instant. “God bless GPS, that’s all I can say. After I drop you off, I’m going to pick up some stuff from my hotel and meet up with McCall at Miller’s place or headquarters—wherever he is. For the moment, he and my boss, Beth Snyder, think you’re with me. I’m going to tell them I dropped the charges against you and stashed you at a hotel until we can figure out how big a risk Burke is to you.”

“What about McCall?”

“I’m just going to tell him the truth—that I believe there might be a mole embedded in the agency, and that he’s on my list of possibilities. I’ve never been much at sparing people’s feelings if I thought it would help me get the job done.”

“Let me help you,” Lou said. “I need Humphrey to save Cap. Even with him, I’m afraid he may not make it. Without him…”

Lou’s voice trailed away.

“Give me two days to find the mole,” Vaill said. “At least I’ll feel you’re somewhat safe while I’m tracking him—or her—down.”

“I’ve got to get to the hospital. I’ve already missed time. Then I’ll tell you how long I’m willing to stay holed up in my hotel.”

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