The Fugitive's Trail (16 page)

After being told the president’s suite was unavailable, Plymel presented his American Express Black Card and was immediately shown to the room. He was now accessing the internet on the in-room laptop. It took only five minutes to confirm his forty-nine-million dollars was unavailable. He sat back in the desk chair and tried to think. How could they have found it? He had deleted that information a long time ago. Unless Crigler…

The phone on the desk rang. He stared at it, momentarily undecided whether to answer or not. Shaking his head, he picked up the receiver. “Yes?”

“Mr. Plymel, this is the hotel manager Fred Barnes. I hope you found your room comfortable and to your satisfaction. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant, please let me know?”

“Yes—yes, everything is fine.” He hesitated, suddenly remembering he didn’t have any clothes or toiletries with him. “Do you have a professional shopper on staff?”

“Why, yes we do. Can she be of assistance?”

“Actually she can. Please send her up, I need to give her a list.”

***

After the fourth attempt to reach Crigler by phone, Plymel concluded he was being ignored. If Crigler wasn’t going to take his calls, there was only one way to find out what he needed to know: confront the man face to face.

The personal shopper had performed admirably. Plymel now had several new suits, shirts, ties, shoes, items of lounge wear, and all the personal items needed to keep him groomed and presentable. The few moments of self-doubt he had experienced earlier in the day were long gone.

After locating a smaller fund that was still available, he immediately transferred the money to an account he could readily access. With the discovery of the money and a new wardrobe, his self-confidence returned. Dressed in one of his new suits, he dialed a memorized number on the hotel desk phone.

“Covergirl Escorts, this is Marie. How can I help you?”

Plymel smiled. “Yes, this is Abel Plymel. Is Darby available tonight?”

Atlanta, GA

The man waited patiently, watching passengers disembark flight 1172 from Dulles International Airport. He wore black jeans, black Reeboks, a white button-down oxford shirt, and a navy blazer. Except for his size, he would have blended into the background of business travelers and been invisible. His patience was rewarded as the tall black man walked through the gate and paused for a brief moment as he scanned the crowd. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. The black man then walked quickly to the main hallway and turned to his right, hurrying toward his connecting flight.

The large man in the navy blazer waited a few moments before grabbing the duffel bag at his feet. Without hurrying, he walked in the same direction as the taller man. There was no need to catch up; he knew where the man was going.

As he approached his destination, he saw the taller man standing in the gate area examining his boarding pass. Major Benedict “Sandy” Knoll walked up to him. “Nice to see you again, colonel.”

Joseph smiled and turned to his friend. “Good to see you too, Sandy. Let’s dispense with the titles.”

“Yes sir. Thank you for the invite. I’ve never been to the Ozarks. I hear it’s a beautiful part of the country.”

“It is, but I’m afraid we have a storm brewing. I need some extra boots on the ground.”

“My pleasure, sir. All the equipment you requested is checked and will arrive with us.”

“Good, thank you.”

“You were a little vague on the phone, sir. How bad is this storm going to be?”

“With you there, I’m sure its intensity will be lessened.”

Nodding, Sandy understood it wasn’t appropriate to discuss the matter in public. He remained quiet and waited for their flight to Springfield.

Just before boarding, Joseph handed Sandy an eight-by-ten envelope. In a low voice, he said, “There’s a driver’s license, credit card, hotel reservation, and a brief summary of our objectives in this envelope. Read it over. When we get to Springfield, we’ll depart separately. You have a SUV with a GPS unit reserved under the name on the ID. Go to your hotel and wait for me to call you.”

Sandy nodded and remained quiet.

“Once again, Sandy, I appreciate your help with this matter. The man we are trying to protect will make an excellent addition to our team.”

Sandy looked at the picture from the envelope. “I remember this guy. It was a long time ago, but I competed against him in several marksmanship tournaments. He kicked my ass every time. I don’t remember his name, but damn, he could shoot.”

Joseph smiled. “He’s even better with a computer.”

It was Sandy’s turn to smile. “Well then, I’ll just have to make sure this storm doesn’t do any damage.”

***

JR’s phone chirped at five minutes after five in the afternoon. Quickly noting the caller ID, he accepted the call. “Yeah.”

Joseph said, “Have you ever thought about just saying hello?”

“Yes, but I dismissed it as being pedestrian.”

“Where are you?”

“Halfway between Topeka and Kansas City. Should be back in town a little after nine tonight. Why?”

“Can I convince you to stay in KC tonight?”

“Why?”

There was a pause before JR heard him say, “We may have a small problem. We believe someone will be arriving in Springfield in the next day or so looking for you. He may already be here; we’re not sure. Another day would give us time to check.”

“What do you mean
us
?” Joseph was quiet for a long time. JR said, “Are you still there?”

“You don’t miss much, do you?”

“Try not to. So who is the
us
?”

“I asked an old friend to help out.”

It was JR’s time to be quiet. For almost eight months, no one knew anything about his past. Now more and more individuals were involved. “One person has already died, Joseph, someone I didn’t even know.” His voice rose in volume, “Now you’re telling me you’re dragging more people into this. How many more, Joseph? How many?”

“He has certain talents we can use.”

JR was quiet, he took a deep breath and said, “Give me a better reason to stay in KC.”

“Kruger believes a very dangerous man knows your location. This individual may be on his way to Springfield. We need time to set up surveillance without you being in the way.”

“How long do you want me to stay?”

“One night should do it. Go to a Royals game or something.”

JR turned to Mia. “Want to get a room in Kansas City tonight?” She had been watching him during the phone call, understanding the direction of the conversation. She stared at him with unblinking eyes, a tight smile, and finally a nod of her head. JR said, “Yes—we’ll stop in Kansas City.”

“Don’t tell me where you’re staying—that way, I can truthfully say I don’t know where you are. Plausible deniability. Keep you cell phone charged.”

“Okay. Call me when you know more.”

“Will do.”

The call ended and Mia said, “What’s going on, JR? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know for sure. Joseph was vague at best. He said he needed some time to set up surveillance, whatever that means.” He paused and looked at Mia. She stared at him, her arms crossed and her left hand rubbing her throat.

He tried to maintain an upbeat attitude. “So, where do you want to stay?” She continued to stare at him. Pausing briefly, he said, “Let’s go to the Plaza—great hotels and lots of good food. We’ll try to get hold of Kruger; he lives somewhere around there. We can ask him what’s going on.”

She turned toward the front window and stared out at the highway.

“Try not to worry. Joseph has everything under control.” As he said it, he wasn’t sure if he believed it.

***

Joseph ended the call to JR and immediately called Sandy, who answered on the first ring. “Yes.”

“Did you find your accommodations satisfactory?”

“I’m a little disappointed. Only two rooms and I haven’t seen the scantily clad maid yet.”

Chuckling, Joseph said, “Budget constraints. Let’s meet at my office as soon as you can get here.”

“How far is it?”

“About ten minutes, if you use the freeway next to your hotel. The address is in your envelope.”

“Already in the GPS. See you in ten.”

Sandy walked through the door of Ozark Computer Security eleven minutes later. “Okay, give me the details.”

By nine in the evening, Sandy was up to speed and Joseph felt better prepared for any possible visit by Adam Weber. JR’s apartment would be under surveillance by early morning. Also, the security for Joseph’s shop had been upgraded by some of the equipment Sandy had brought from Atlanta. The only item missing was a picture of Weber. A Google search had failed to provide one, so Joseph called Mary. She provided one via email fifteen minutes after his call.

Once the image was saved to the main server, Joseph said, “I think you’ll be impressed with JR’s facial recognition program. It’s faster than anything the government has.” Just as he said that, one of the monitoring laptop’s pinged. Joseph looked at the message. “Apparently Mr. Weber has found us.” He pointed to the split screen on the laptop. The left side was a live shot of the parking lot in front and slightly east of their location, and the right side was the newly saved picture of Weber with his name and current bio underneath the image.

Joseph’s shop was located in a commercial development that was designated as multi-use. The neighboring businesses varied, ranging from dentists and attorneys to restaurants and fitness centers. The complex was long, extending a half-mile from east to west. Joseph’s office was on the western side next to a fitness center and several high-end restaurants, so at this time of night, the parking lot was still busy.

Weber was standing next to a sedan several spaces from a light pole. The driver-side door was open, and he was holding what looked like an open file tilted toward the light pole. As they watched, Weber would look at the file and then the building. He did this several times before closing it and tossing it back into the vehicle. He surveyed the office complex, looking east and then west. Finally, he lifted a small digital camera to his eye and started taking pictures.

Sandy walked over to a laptop and typed in several instructions. The surveillance camera that was focused on Weber zoomed in and started recording. “He’s doing recon. Not very subtle about it, is he?”

Joseph shook his head but remained quiet as he watched the man taking pictures.

Sandy typed on the laptop keyboard again and said to the screen, “I wonder what you’re planning to do next, Mr. Weber.”

Finally, after several minutes, Weber got back in the sedan and left the parking space slowly. The camera tracked the car’s movement until it disappeared around the corner of the office complex one hundred yards to the west. Sandy said, “Bet he’s driving around to check out the rear entrance.”

They were in the workshop located at the rear of the office. On the back wall, a steel door led directly from the room into the service alley. Joseph walked to the wall and flipped off the light switch. He said, “No need to advertise someone’s here.”

Sandy typed more instructions on the laptop. The image on the laptop was now from cameras covering the alley. The split-screen format showed the view from cameras facing west and east. As they watched, the automobile driven by Weber appeared around the west end of the complex and slowly drove down the alley toward their door. Weber stopped the car next to the back door and got out again. He stood looking at the door and then concentrated on the roofline of the building. They could see him concentrating on a particular spot. He took the digital camera from his pocket and started taking more pictures. He pointed the camera directly at two of the security cameras secured in the back alley. Smiling, Weber got back into the car and drove on down the alley.

Joseph smiled and nodded. “He spotted the old cameras, not your new ones. That’s good.”

Sandy watched the image. “Why is he being so obvious taking pictures of the building and cameras?”

Joseph shook his head. “Not sure.” He paused for a few moments. “Unless he’s planning on coming back later and doing a more thorough job of looking around.”

Smiling, Sandy said, “I hope so.”

New York City

The FBI investigative team looking into Sharon Crawford’s murder had so far found very little forensic evidence. Basic facts were all they had. She had died from a broken neck after a brief struggle. The killer must have worn gloves, because the only prints in the room were Sharon’s and the cleaning staff’s. She had not been sexually assaulted and she had not been able to scratch her assailant—no DNA evidence under her fingernails. Stray clothing fibers were found on her business suit as the killer grabbed her from behind and rubbed his clothing against her during the struggle. Analysis of the fiber matched it to a thousand identical suits sold at JC Penney. Her motel room had been turned inside out as the assailant searched for something. All the forensics team could determine missing was her laptop, cell phone, and her wallet.

Sean Kruger read through the reports, studied the crime scene photographs, and then repeated the process. Viewing the pictures of Sharon was the hardest. As he worked, something troubled him. Something was missing. He couldn’t place it, but he felt something was wrong with the scene. He turned to one of the technicians working in the room. “How tall was the assailant?”

Beverly Castro was a twenty-year veteran of the New York Crime Lab, mid-forties, black hair streaked with gray pulled back in a ponytail and twenty pounds overweight. She looked at him over half glasses. “Not sure,” she walked over to a desk in the lab, opened a notebook, and read for a few moments. “Tall, angle of the bruise marks on the victim’s neck—”

“Her name was Sharon,” said Kruger.

“Sorry, the bruises on Sharon’s neck indicate her assailant was a lot taller than she was.”

“The report says the carpet had been vacuumed before she arrived back at the hotel. There’s only one set of footprints leading to the bed. Did he carry her?”

“There were signs of a struggle. We think her neck was broken after he carried her to the bed.”

Kruger nodded; he had guessed as much. “Did you find any hair samples of the assailant around the bed?”

Beverly consulted the notebook again and shook her head. “Nothing conclusive, mostly just Sharon’s hair.”

Kruger was silent as he stared at his copy of the report. Finally he said, “There’s mention of several short gray hairs found on her clothing. Have they been sent off for analysis?”

She nodded. “Yes, but the results really won’t help us until we have a suspect. Why?”

Kruger thought for a moment. “Check them against US Marshal personnel records, active, non-active, and retired.”

Tilting her head to the side, Beverly said, “You know something we don’t?”

“Just a hunch, I’m probably wrong.” He gave her a weak smile. “But—you never know.”

“Okay, if you feel it’s important, I can push it through faster.”

Kruger nodded. “Yeah, I feel it’s important.”

***

Standing outside the evidence locker at Police Headquarters at One Police Plaza, Kruger handed the transfer-of-evidence paperwork to the officer at the reception desk. She looked at his ID, then the paperwork and nodded. She wrote something on a pad of paper and handed it to a young officer sitting behind her. She said, “Bobbie, please get this and I’ll finish up here.”

As soon as the young officer was gone, she looked up at Kruger, a small tear in her eye. “I’m Brittany Hardy, I knew Sharon. We worked a case together several years ago and became friends. Whenever she was in town, we’d have dinner.”

Kruger nodded. She was in her mid-thirties and slightly overweight. She was pretty in a simple way, with hazel eyes and shoulder-length light brown hair she tucked behind her ears. He said, “She was a special person.”

Brittany looked down at her desk and was quiet. “Did you know her very well?”

Kruger hesitated. He nodded. “Yes, we worked a few cases together. I considered her a friend.”

Brittany’s eyes suddenly grew wide and her hand went to her mouth. “You’re Sean, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry. I just now made the connection. She spoke of you often.”

Frowning, Kruger said, “What do you mean she spoke of me often?”

“You know, just girl talk. When we chatted about the men in our lives, she would always mention your name, no one else. I think she was still in love with you.”

Kruger stared at Brittany, struggling to keep tears from forming. Finally, he found his voice and said in a low whisper, “We were close at one time.”

Changing the subject, Brittany said, “Do you know where she’ll be taken?”

He nodded. “I spoke to her mother. Sharon’s service will be in Florida. She grew up in Orlando.”

Brittany nodded and was about to say something when the other officer handed her the box containing Abel Plymel’s computer. She took it out and checked the information against Kruger’s paperwork and signed his copy. He signed her copy and placed the computer in his backpack. He placed one of the pack’s straps over his shoulder and turned to leave. The young woman said, “Did you and Sharon have plans for the future?”

He nodded. “At one time, yes…”

He left, not trusting himself to say anymore.

***

His appointment with the ex-accountant for P&G Global was scheduled for eleven the same morning. Upon arriving, he was shown into the man’s office without delay. Robert Hill was in his early thirties and currently working at a CPA firm in mid-Manhattan. Kruger had avoided telling the receptionist he was with the FBI to keep the rumor mill quiet. As they stepped into Hill’s office, he said, “I appreciate you not identifying yourself, Agent Kruger. Please sit down. Is this about P&G Global?”

Kruger nodded as he took a seat in front of Hill’s desk. The office smelled of Brut aftershave, dust, and musty files. The young man was slight of build, prematurely thinning hair, green eyes behind rimless glasses, and a rather sharp nose. Kruger said, “How long were you there after sending the memo about discrepancies?”

Hill chuckled. “I was gone that afternoon. They told me I’d made several errors in an account that cost the company millions. Apparently, Plymel used me as an excuse for the missing funds.”

“How much was missing?”

“Over five million from three accounts, all of which were worth more than a hundred million each, and those were just the easy ones to find. I knew of at least twenty other accounts with discrepancies, but I wasn’t able to examine them before I was dismissed.”

Kruger made a few notes and was quiet for several seconds. “Why did you send the memo directly to Plymel and not your boss?”

Hill shrugged. “The organizational chart was a little odd; everybody in the accounting and auditing departments reported directly to Plymel. He was my boss. I always thought it was to streamline communications, but now I realize he was keeping tabs on anyone discovering the transfer of funds.”              

“What was Alton Crigler’s roll in all of this?”

“That’s a great question. He was supposed to be the managing partner, but was seldom there. He spent four to five days a week in Washington. I was responsible for auditing his expense account. Every Monday I would receive one from the preceding week. Like clockwork, it would be on my desk before I arrived in the morning. My instructions were to check the math, correct any errors, approve it, and send it to accounts payable. All of this had to be done by noon on the day I received the report. He had no limits on expenditures, and I was not to question any of his expenses. Which should have been a red flag for me, but I had just passed my CPA exam and was a little green.”

“What were his expenses like?”

“Hugh, minimum of four figures and sometimes five on a weekly basis.” He paused, stared at this desk and continued, “One time I questioned a five-thousand-dollar restaurant bill without a receipt. I was told to pay it and shut up.” He sighed. “The whole place felt like that.”

Kruger frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It was like everything we did was for the pleasure and compensation of Mr. Plymel and Mr. Crigler. We were all there just to make sure they kept their lifestyle.”

Kruger made more notes. “Did you ever find any discrepancies with any of the accounts Crigler managed?”

Hill shook his head. “No, I wasn’t involved with them. He was more of the handshaking and backslapping guy for the company.”

They spoke for another thirty minutes as Hill described his overall duties in more detail. Kruger finally said, “Mr. Hill, I appreciate your time. Here is my card. If you think of anything else, please call me.”

He stood and walked to the door. Just as he was about to open it, Hill said, “One more thing, Agent Kruger.”

He turned around to look at Hill. “Yes.”

“There are some good people in the auditing department, but you need to know they’re scared.”

Kruger nodded. “As well they should be.”

***

Kruger pulled into his parking slot at the condo a few minutes after eight that night. He was tired and frustrated. Over an hour ago, he had returned Joseph’s message to call him as soon as his flight landed in Kansas City. Now Joseph wasn’t answering. In his message, Joseph had told him that JR would be in KC, but no specifics on where. Plymel’s computer had to be in the lab in Washington sometime tomorrow, or questions would be raised.

With his computer backpack slung over his shoulder and his overnight bag in his hand, he walked up the one flight of stairs and went to his door. There was a small yellow Post-it note at eye level next to his apartment number—no words, just numbers. He unlocked the door and took the note inside. There were nine digits with no spaces, parentheses, or dashes. After depositing his luggage in the bedroom, he stared at the numbers and suddenly smiled. After punching the numbers into his cell phone, the call was answered on the second ring.

“You must have gotten my message?”

“Not much of a message, JR, but yes, I did. I have something for you.”

“Good, I’ll be right there.” The call ended without another word.

Fifteen minutes later, JR and Mia were in Kruger’s condo. JR sat at the breakfast bar examining Plymel’s laptop, and Mia stood next to Kruger as they watched him work. She said, “Are you going to be able to help him?”

Kruger nodded. “Yes, I believe I can.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I hope so. He’s a good man.” She paused, took a deep breath, and sighed. “I’m falling in love with him.”

Looking at her, Kruger remained quiet. She was staring again at JR, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “He’s determined to get through this so we can have a future together. I have to help him in any way I can.”

Kruger didn’t respond.

She continued, “Did you know he was in the military?”

Kruger nodded.

“He was a member of a group of men trained to start the first Cyber Warfare unit, but he and his commanding officer had a disagreement, so he quit.”

This was news to Kruger. He wondered why Joseph had failed to mention this fact.

She continued, “When those two men escorted him out of the building, he knew if he got in the SUV, he’d never get out of it alive, so he defended himself.” She looked up at Kruger, a tear in her eye. “If he hadn’t defended himself, I’d never have met him. I’m sorry someone died because of it, but I’m glad it happened. Is it wrong for me to feel that way?”

Kruger shook his head. “No.”

She turned her attention back to JR. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help him.”

JR looked up from the computer. “When do you need to take this computer back?”

Kruger said, “I have to have it in Washington by tomorrow afternoon. Can you analyze the disk by then?”

JR shook his head. “I don’t have the right software with me. I need to do it in my computer room.”

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

“What if I clone the drive and put the clone in the computer? That way I have the original?”

Kruger said quietly, “Why is the original so important?”

JR shrugged. “Personal preference. From what I can see on first glance, the disk is heavily segmented, which means a lot of data has been deleted recently. I can recover the deleted information as long as I have the original disk.”

“Would someone else be able to tell the original was replaced?”

“Not when I’m done.”

Kruger nodded and smiled.

JR and Mia left his condo just after ten, planning to return in the morning. JR knew a place in Overland Park where he could buy a duplicate hard drive. He would then clone the original and install the clone in the laptop. Afterward, he and Mia would drive back to Springfield.

Kruger walked down the condo hall and knocked on Stephanie’s door. It took several knocks, but finally he heard the dead bolt being released, and the door opened. Stephanie smiled as he walked into the living area. They hugged and she said, “Hi, stranger. When did you get back?”

“Couple of hours ago. I hope I didn’t wake you.”