The Seven Year Itch (13 page)

Chapter 17

Saturday
Morning…

A
s she arrived on the edge
of the bourgeois Northern Virginia suburbs, she couldn’t wait for her visit
with Jack to end. For J.J., time crept by, the entire morning dragged.
Why me?
she asked herself again and
again, like a tired, broken record. Her burgeoning anxiety was irritating at
best, so she leaned on Belvedere despite her promise to Tony. Only a small sip
though, just enough to soothe the nerves and loosen the tongue. The tongue
lashing she planned to deliver to her traitorous boss must not be tempered by
common sense or conscience.

Except for the barbed wire and armed correctional officers,
the state jail looked more like luxury condos than a place to imprison hardened
criminals.
She took a deep breath, flashed
her credentials, and ambled inside the detention facility, dreading the moment
she’d be forced to see his face, hear his voice. Her heart thanked Tony. He was
already inside waiting on her to arrive, refused to let her go it alone.

A sheriff led her through a series of security doors to the
interrogation room where Jack awaited her arrival. The door buzzed, and the
lock popped before she walked inside. Her teeth ground as she headed toward her
seat, the one farthest from him and closest to the exit.

Jack sat solemn, pensive, shackled at the wrist. He rapped
his hands on the table and waited for J.J. to sit down and speak. Seemed
relieved, a feeling that no doubt dissipated when he realized the sentiment was
in no way mutual.

“Jack,” she spat, unsmiling and cold. She fought the urge to
tell him how well he looked in orange. She couldn’t force even a microscopic
modicum of sympathy, not after he’d destroyed so many lives and treated her
like shit for so many years.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he replied, in no position to
spout his usual venomous remarks.

She pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest,
gave him “The Hand” with her hardened stare. “If Cartwright hadn’t asked me to
come, trust me I wouldn’t have bothered. Now can we please dispense with the
idle pleasantries? Tell me whatever it is that you need to say so I can get the
hell out of here. Confinement depresses me.”

Jack’s shame-filled gaze fell onto the table. He nodded and
laced his fingers together. “The thing is...”

Then nothing. For seconds that seemed like hours, nothing.

Her patience had dwindled to non-existence, especially given
that he’d done nothing but show her his ass over the years. She couldn’t wait
to show him hers.

Karma’s a bitch.

J.J. had already decided to vacate the premises if she
experienced even the slightest hint of an itch, any minor discomfort. He could
spout his lies to someone stupid enough to believe him, find someone else with
whom to share his sob story. She had a source to save and neither the time nor
patience for his bullshit.

“You had every reason not to come here today. And now you
have every reason to leave, but I’m asking you to please hear me out.” He
rubbed his hands together in a rapid, nervous motion. “Nothing is what it
seems.”

What’s this?
she
thought.

Jack’s shoulders slumped and red veins peppered his eyes. He
appeared sleepless and pathetic—not a good look. “I know I’ve been a prick.”

“Uhhhh . . . correction,” she interrupted, wagging her index
finger. “A racist prick.” Her hand began to tremble so she clasped both
together under the table. She attributed the shaking to her welling anger
toward Jack.

He nodded and hung his head in shame. “All right. I’ll accept
that. I’m a lot of things, not all of them good. But God as my witness I’m not
a spy.”

Please, Lord, bring on
the itch
.

Anything.

She hoped, wished, and prayed. Just one little sign that he
was lying. She’d dash out of the interrogation room so fast there’d be nothing
left but skid marks and vapors.

She waited and waited. And waited and waited.

Nothing.

Son of a bitch!

He lifted his head and locked his eyes squarely onto hers,
didn’t falter, didn’t back down, didn’t cower in the face of her evident doubt.
“Somebody framed me, J.J. and I think it may be someone close to us.”

She shot him a skeptical glare and turned her head toward
Tony. She knew he stood behind the one-way glass, listening to every word. He’d
never
believe Sabinski. J.J.’s only
consolation was that Tony would stand behind her no matter what she did. That
was the nature of their relationship, something she could always depend on.
“What about the poly? You failed miserably. Twice I might add.”

“I don’t know what to say. They hooked me up and my heart
wouldn’t stop racing. Never happened to me before. I have no idea what could’ve
caused me to experience such a reaction.”

J.J. wanted so desperately to tell him that being a mean
bastard who pops Snickers bars like popcorn might have something to do with his
condition, but she resisted the temptation. After all, her snide remarks would
serve no useful purpose and certainly wouldn’t repair the damage he’d done to
her career or her sources.

“Did you take any drugs, alcohol, or anything that might’ve
caused a negative physiological reaction?” she asked.

“No, nothing that I didn’t report.”

Still no reaction,
she thought.
Damn!
He’d probably
never been this honest in his life and just as J.J.’s luck would have it, he
batted a thousand at that moment.

“What about the money? I’m told your prints were all over the
bag.”

He exhaled, cupped his reddened face in his hands. “I don’t
know what to tell you except that I buy trash bags for the house. Maybe the
person who framed me got a hold of one I’d touched and used it to hide the
money. Trust me, if I had all that cash, I wouldn’t be living in that piece of
shit house or driving my piece of shit car, that’s for certain.”

Even if he was lying to himself, he certainly believed he was
telling the truth. Still no reaction, much to J.J.’s dismay.

“After everything you’ve said to me, put me through, do you
really expect me to trust a word you say? To help you?”

Without hesitation, he nodded.

“Guard!” J.J. called out. “Could we get this man an ice pack,
please?”

“Ice pack?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” she snapped. “Because you’ve bumped your head if you
think for one moment I’m going to risk what’s left of my shitty little
career—no small thanks to
you
—to help
save yours!”

Jack wrung his hands together, desperation seeped through his
pores.

“The FBI has a mole. And this one is even more dangerous than
Hanssen.”

“Yes, you are.”

“It’s not me!”

She cut him a wicked sideways glance. “We’ve been trying to
tell you about this problem for years. And you didn’t want to listen, at least
not until the chicken came home to roost. Now it’s roosting like a
motherfucker, huh?”

“J.J., he’s compromising every sensitive HUMINT operation
we’re running. At this rate, all FBI assets will dry up. We’ll never get
another well-placed recruitment. Human intelligence in the FBI, as we know it,
will cease to exist. This is serious. It’s no game. And it’s because of our
history that you’re the only one I can trust…if you agree to help me.”

Everything in J.J. wanted to smirk, but deep down she knew
Jack had finally come to his good senses. He’d spoken a lot of hard truth.
Nobody would trust working with FBI counterintelligence. The Bureau’s foreign
partners would no longer share intelligence. The CIA was just looking for a
reason to cut the Bureau off from their most sensitive human intelligence. The
FBI would be isolated and unable to effectively conduct any kind of
intelligence operation. And at the end of the day, the country would suffer
most for it. Even though J.J. knew her days at the Bureau were numbered and she
fought every urge to give a damn, the truth could not be denied.

“Mhm-hmm. I see. So why’d you ask me to come here? What do
you expect me to do? Run some rogue investigation to help free you
from the bondage of your own willful
ignorance?”

“If you’re half the agent I think you are...then yes, I do.”

A slight sensation emerged behind her eyes, causing her to
blink. Of course that would be the one answer he’d lie about. Made perfect
sense though. Why would he believe she’d trust him under these or any other
circumstances?

“Flattery doesn’t suit you, Jack.”

Without another word spoken, she stood and raised her arm to
signal the guard to open the door. She wanted his jaw to hit the floor; she
wanted him to feel a fraction of the hopelessness and frustration she’d felt
over the years.

When she turned to make her grand exit, Jack said, “Walk away if you
want, but take this with you. If he set me up, do you think he’ll have any
problem doing the same to you?”

Chapter 18

J.J.
froze where she stood. Jack’s remark, however desperate,
got her attention. She returned to her seat so she could ask a few more
questions. After all, he must’ve had some inkling or suspicion that drove him
to believe the mole was in the FBI as opposed to the CIA or some other agency.
“So, if you had to guess—”

“Chris,” Jack said, without a moment’s pause, not even
allowing her to finish the question.

“
Chris
? Wait,
Lana’s
Chris
?”

“Yeah...I think he’s in love with Lana,” Jack said. The red
in his face intensified. He squeezed his hands and cracked his knuckles
repeatedly, the sound of which made J.J. cringe. “No. That’s not true. He’s
very much in love with Lana, almost to the point of obsession.”

J.J. shifted in her seat, constantly examining her feelings.
“And? What’s that got to do with you?”

He looked at J.J., stone-faced. She waited for an answer when
the gravity of his statement pulled her smack into the reality of his
insinuation. “Wait.
You
…and
Lana?”
The words propelled from her
mouth like vomit.

J.J. dropped her head in shock and disbelief. What could Lana
possibly want with Jack?

“What can I say? She came onto me.”

“Uhhh...rewind,” J.J. said, twirling her finger
counter-clockwise. “
She
. . . came
onto
you?”

“Yes.”

Still no reaction.

Wow.

After some thought, his story made sense, even with the Lana
detail. Everyone knew she’d cozied up to him to advance her career. J.J. didn’t
know how cozy until that moment. If Chris had truly been obsessed with Lana and
became aware of her relationship with Sabinski, what better way to get rid of
his competition than...set him up for espionage.

No, didn’t make sense. Obsessed people stalked their victims,
let the air out of their tires, poured sugar in their gas tanks, and pushed the
objects of their desire down flights of stairs in fits of jealous rage; they
didn’t frame them for espionage. Just didn’t quite add up. At least Jack had
given her something to work with.

“Well that explains everything, doesn’t it? Who knew she was
so . . .
multitalented
,” she snipped,
suppressing the urge to slip in another dig. “So, let me ask you this. If you
thought enough of Lana to reassign my cases to her, then why didn’t you ask
her
to come help you?”

“I called for the person I believe I can trust.”

“So, are you saying you
don’t
feel you can trust Lana?”

Silence.

He didn’t respond, just stared into the distance.

J.J. stood to leave again.

“She’s through with me. You know it, and I know it. I’m in
jail and can no longer help her career. I’ve never deluded myself about our relationship,”
Jack said. He lowered his head, pressed his hands against his temples.
“Besides, other than you and Tony, I’m beginning to wonder who in headquarters
can be trusted. Think about it J.J., I take a polygraph one minute and the next
I’m in jail? That’s not Bureau procedure, and you know it. Why was there such a
rush to search my house? No one had enough pull with the judge to get an
expedited warrant except Freeman…or—”

“Cartwright,” she said.

He’d made a valid point. Something definitely didn’t add up.
But
Cartwright
ordered the search.
The same Cartwright who pressed J.J. to stay and dig deeper. If involved, why
would he ask J.J. to pursue the mole when he might be the one she’d end up
arresting? That didn’t make sense either.

“Will you help me J.J.?”

The door buzzed, and she wrapped her fingers around the door
handle. “I don’t know, Jack. We shit-brown daughters of domestic terrorists and
son of a Guinea wise guy will need some time to consider your request. In the
meantime, make sure you sleep with your back to the wall.”

The sound brought J.J. as much discomfort as it probably had
Sabinski. Perhaps the Belvedere had loosened her tongue too much.

A vision of her mother’s countenance flashed in her mind. Her
mother’s disappointed voice spoke to her heart. “J.J. I raised you better than
that!”

She turned back to him to apologize but couldn’t choke the
words out. Perhaps a full apology was a step too far. After a second’s
hesitation, her voice softened. “They got you in solitary?”

He nodded. “They don’t mix cops in with the population,” he
said. “J.J...the prosecution’s asking for the death penalty.”

Why did I even have to
ask?
she questioned. That’s the part she hated about being a woman.
Compassion.

Based on J.J.’s reaction to Jack’s story, the Bureau had
arrested the wrong suspect, and Jack had just enough honor to ensure he’d never
cop a plea for this charge and leave the real mole on the streets.

Her only questions were whether the investigation had been
ordered to frame Jack.

 
And if so who was
really
behind it.

J.J. forced herself not to look back again. She couldn’t. The
sincerity in his desperation had somehow managed to permeate the wall she’d
built to protect herself from his verbal floggings. The armored door slammed
closed behind her, and the resulting breeze made the skin on the back of her
neck prickle.

J.J. took a few steps into the hall when Tony greeted her. He
ran his fingers through his curly black hair, distracting her for a brief
moment.

“I take it you heard everything,” she said.

“Yeah, I listened to the whole sob story. The snake,” Tony
responded. “I gotta tell you, I’m glad the ass wipe got pinched. I’d love to
see him go down for this, especially after what he said to you. And it’d sure
solve our problems.”

All J.J. could do was stare, and then she rolled her eyes up
to the ceiling. If she allowed Jack take the rap for the compromises, she and
Tony wouldn’t need to worry about taking the polygraph examinations or losing
their jobs. And she’d never have to deal with Jack’s ass again.

On the other hand, the Bureau would still have a mole to
contend with. Their sources would still be in danger of compromise and death.
And the son of a bitch traitor would continue to walk free.

“What’s with the face? You don’t actually believe this guy,
do you? I mean, c’mon, suggesting that Cartwright had something to do with
setting him up? He’s reaching, don’t you think?”

“Please, I haven’t heard a taller tale since O.J. pled not
guilty. But as far-fetched as his story may sound, I know he’d rather be
roasted alive on a spit than ask
me,
of
all people, for help.”

“Well, if you think I’m lifting a fucking finger to help that
jerk-off, you can fughettaboudit. Ain’t happenin’. After what he said to you?
He’s getting exactly what he deserves as far as I’m concerned. Let him fry.”

“But Ton—”

“I don’t want to hear it. You help him; you’re on your own.”

What else did she expect? He didn’t know what motivated
J.J.’s change of perspective. And she couldn’t explain her reasoning, not
without sounding like a lunatic. She was singing a new song and he’d gotten
stuck on the old one.

“You really not gonna help?” she asked as she started toward
the exit.

“You heard me!” he snapped, refusing to budge an inch.

Stubborn fucking
Italian!
she thought to herself.

She couldn’t believe he was so determined to remain defiant

“Fine,” she growled, matching his coarse tone. “The Bureau
pays me to catch spies, so unlike you I’m just going to do my job. On my own!”

Tony huffed, as they both plodded to their cars in quietly
seething.

J.J. had never seen this side of him before and didn’t care
to see it again. Ever. In the time they’d worked together, he’d never held his
ground so firmly. Now she was truly screwed. Not only did she need to find the mole
and clear the name of the boss she despised, she’d have no help doing it.