The Winner (46 page)

“This one was tricky,” the voice said. “We went through normal channels initially to avoid any suspicions. We believe the request was kicked to senior level and we received back a ‘no-fingerprint-found’ reply.”

“But a person was identified,” Jackson said.

“Right, but only after we went back through other channels.” Jackson knew that meant hacking into a database. “That’s when we pulled up the information we transmitted to you.”

“But it’s a different name than the one he’s using now and it lists him as being deceased.”

“Right, but the thing is, when a criminal dies, the standard procedure is to fingerprint the corpse and transmit the prints to the FBI for verification. When that’s completed, the pointer—the linkage used to retrieve the print from the database—is deleted. The result is that there are, technically, no prints of deceased criminals on the database.”

“So how do you explain what you just sent me? Why would they want to have this person listed as deceased but under another name?”

“Well, that tells me that the name listed on the database is his real one and the one he’s using now is phony. The fact that he’s listed as dead tells me that the Feds want people to believe he’s dead, including anyone who might try to get access to their database to check. I’ve seen the Feds do that before.”

“Why?”

The answer the man gave him caused Jackson to slowly hang up the phone. Now it all made sense. He stared at the screen.

Daniel Buckman: Deceased.

It was less than three minutes after LuAnn left that Riggs received a telephone call. The message was terse, but still managed to chill Riggs to the bone.

“Someone just made an unauthorized access of your fingerprint file through the Automated Fingerprint Identification System. And it was somebody who knew what he was doing because we didn’t realize it happened until after the fact. Exercise extreme care, we’re checking it out right now.”

Riggs slammed down the phone and grabbed his receiving unit. He took a moment to unlock a drawer of his desk. He pulled out two pistols, two ammo clips, and an ankle holster. The larger pistol he put in his pocket and the smaller one he inserted in the holster he belted around his ankle. Then he ran for his Jeep. He hoped to God LuAnn hadn’t found and removed the transmitter from her car.

F
rom the car phone LuAnn called the number Jackson had given her. He buzzed her back less than a minute later.

“I’m on the move too,” he said. “We need to talk.”

“I’m reporting back to you, like you said.”

“I’m sure you are. I trust you have a good deal to tell me.”

“I don’t think we have a serious problem on our hands.”

“Oh, really, I’m so very glad to hear it.”

LuAnn responded testily. “Do you want to hear it or not?”

“Yes, but in person.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he fired back. “And I have some information that might be of interest to you.”

“About what?”

“No, about whom. Matt Riggs. Like his real name, his real background, and why you should take every caution in dealing with him.”

“You can tell me all that over the phone.”

“LuAnn, perhaps you didn’t hear me. I said you’re going to meet me in person.”

“Why should I?”

“I’ll give you a wonderful reason. If you don’t I’ll find Riggs and kill him in the next half hour. I’ll cut off his head and mail it to you. If you call to warn him, then I’ll go to your home and kill everyone there from the maids to the gardeners and then I’ll burn it to the ground. Then I’ll go to your precious daughter’s exclusive school and slaughter everyone there. You can keep calling, trying to warn the whole town, and I’ll just start killing people at random. Is that a good enough reason, LuAnn, or do you want to hear more?”

LuAnn, pale and trembling at this verbal onslaught, had to force her next breath out. She knew that he meant every insane word. “Where and when?”

“Just like old times. Speaking of old times, why don’t you ask Charlie to join us. This applies to him as well.”

LuAnn held the phone away from her, staring at it as though she wanted to melt it down along with the man on the other end. “He’s not around right now.”

“My, my. And I thought he never left your side, the faithful sidekick.”

Something in his tone touched a chord in LuAnn’s memory. She couldn’t think of what it was. “We’re not exactly joined at the hip. He’s got a life to live.”

For now,
Jackson thought.
For now, just like you. I’m having my doubts, though, I really am.

“Let’s meet at the cottage where our inquisitive friend was nesting. Thirty minutes, can you manage it?”

“I’ll be at the cottage in thirty minutes.”

Jackson hung up the car phone and with an automatic motion felt for the knife hidden in his jacket.

Ten miles away LuAnn almost mirrored that movement, slipping off the safety on her .44.

Dusk was gathering as LuAnn drove down the treelined, leaf-strewn dirt road. The area was very dark. It had rained heavily the night before and a spray of water kicked up on her windshield as she drove through a deep puddle; she was momentarily startled. The cottage was up ahead. She slowed down and swept the terrain with her eyes. She saw no car, no person. She knew that meant nothing. Jackson seemed to appear and disappear whenever he damn well pleased with less rippling than a pebble flung across the ocean. She pulled the BMW to a stop in front of the ramshackle structure and climbed out. She knelt down for a moment and eyed the dirt. There were no other tire tracks and the mud would have shown any very clearly.

LuAnn studied the exterior of the cottage. He was already there, she was certain. It was as though the man carried a scent that was detectable only to her. It smelled like the grave, moldy and dank. She took one last deep breath and started toward the door.

Upon entering the cottage, LuAnn surveyed the small area.

“You’re early.” Jackson stepped from the shadows. His face was the same one from each of their face-to-face encounters. He liked to be consistent. He wore a leather jacket and jeans. A black ski cap covered the top of his head. Dark hiking boots were on his feet. “But at least you came alone,” he added.

“I hope the same can be said of you.” LuAnn shifted slightly so that her back was against a wall rather than the door.

Jackson interpreted her movements and smiled slightly. He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, his lips pursed. “You can start delivering your report,” he ordered.

LuAnn kept her hands in her jacket, one fist closed around her pistol; she managed to point the muzzle at Jackson through the pocket.

Her movements were slight but Jackson cocked his head and smiled. “Now I distinctly remember you saying you wouldn’t kill in cold blood.”

“There are exceptions to everything.”

“Fascinating, but we don’t have time for games. The report?”

LuAnn started speaking in short bursts. “I met with Donovan. He’s the man who was following me, Thomas Donovan.” LuAnn assumed that Jackson had already run down Donovan’s identity. She had decided on the drive over that the best approach was to tell Jackson mostly the truth and to only lie at critical junctures. Half truths were a wonderful way to inspire credibility, and right now she needed all she could muster. “He’s a reporter with the
Washington Tribune.
”

Jackson squatted on his haunches, his hands pressed together in front of him. His eyes remained keenly on her. “Go on.”

“He was doing a story on the lottery. Twelve of the winners from ten years ago.” She nodded toward Jackson. “You know the ones; they’ve all flourished financially.”

“So?”

“So, Donovan wanted to know how, since so many of the other winners have gone belly-up. A very consistent percentage, he said. So your twelve sort of stuck out.”

Jackson hid his chagrin well. He didn’t like having loose ends, and this one had been glaring. LuAnn studied him closely. She read the smallest of self-doubts in his features. That was enormously comforting to her, but this was not the time to dwell on it.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I had been referred to an excellent investment firm by someone from the lottery. I gave him the name of the investment firm you used. I’m assuming they’re legitimate.”

“Very,” Jackson replied. “At least on the surface. And the others?”

“I told Donovan I didn’t know about them, but that they could have been referred to the same firm for all I knew.”

“And he bought that?”

“Let’s just say that he was disappointed. He wanted to write a story about the wealthy screwing the poor—you know, they win the lottery and then parasitic investment firms churn their accounts, earn their pieces of the pie, and leave the winner with nothing but attorney fees for filing bankruptcy. I told him that I certainly didn’t support that conclusion. I had done just fine.”

“And he knew about your situation in Georgia?”

“That’s what drew him to me initially, I would imagine.” LuAnn drew in a small breath of relief as she saw Jackson nod slightly at this remark. He apparently had arrived at the same conclusion. “He thought I would confess to some big conspiracy, I guess.”

Jackson’s eyes glittered darkly. “Did he mention any other theories, like the lottery being fixed?”

To hesitate now would be disastrous, LuAnn knew, so she plunged ahead. “No. Although he thought he had a big story. I told him to talk directly to the investment firm, that I had nothing to hide. That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. I told him if he wanted to contact the Georgia police he could go ahead. Maybe it was time to get things out in the open.”

“You weren’t being serious.”

“I wanted him to believe I was. I figured if I made a big deal out of resisting or wanting to hide anything, he’d get even more suspicious. As it was, everything sort of fizzled for him.”

“How did you leave it?”

“He thanked me for meeting with him, even apologized for troubling me. He said he might contact me later, but kind of doubted it.” Once again LuAnn saw Jackson incline his head slightly. This was working out better than she could have expected. “He got out of my car and into his. That’s the last I saw of him.”

Jackson was silent for several moments and then he slowly rose, silently clapping his hands together. “I love a good performance and I think you handled the situation very well, LuAnn.”

“I had a good teacher.”

“What?”

“Ten years ago. The airport, where you impersonated an impersonation. You told me the best way to hide is to stick out, because it runs counterintuitive to human nature. I used the same principle. Be overly open, cooperative, and honest, and even suspicious people tend to rethink things.”

“I am honored that you remembered all that.”

A little ego-stroking went a long way with most men, LuAnn knew, and Jackson, exceptional though he was in many ways, was no exception in that regard. In an understatement of mammoth proportions, LuAnn said, “You’re a little hard to forget. So you don’t have to do anything with Donovan, he’s harmless. Now tell me about Riggs.”

A smile formed on the man’s lips. “I witnessed your impromptu meeting with Riggs on the rear grounds this morning. It was rather picturesque. From your state of undress, I imagine he had quite a pleasant morning.”

LuAnn hid her anger at this barb. Right now she needed information. She replied, “All the more reason why I should know all about him.”

“Well, let’s start with his real name: Daniel Buckman.”

“Buckman? Why would he have a different name?”

“Funny question coming from you. Why do people change their names, LuAnn?”

Perspiration sprouted on her forehead. “Because they have something to hide.”

“Precisely.”

“Was he a spy?”

Jackson laughed. “Not quite. Actually, he’s not anything.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that dead men, technically, can’t be anything other than dead, correct?”

“Dead?” LuAnn’s entire body froze.
Had Jackson killed Matthew? It couldn’t be.
She fought with all her might not to plunge to the floor. Luckily, Jackson continued.

“I obtained his fingerprints, had them run through a database and the computer told me that he’s dead.”

“The computer’s wrong.”

“The computer only relays what it’s been told. Someone wanted it to appear that Riggs was dead in case anyone came looking.”

“Came looking? Like who?”

“His enemies.” When LuAnn didn’t respond, Jackson said, “Have you ever heard of the Witness Protection and Relocation Program?”

“No. Should I?”

“You’ve lived abroad for so long, I suppose not. It’s run by the federal government, more particularly by the United States Marshal’s Service. It’s to protect persons testifying against dangerous criminals or organizations. They get new identities, new lives. Officially, Riggs is dead. Shows up in a small town, starts a new life under a new identity. Maybe his features have been altered somewhat. I don’t know for certain, but it’s an educated guess on my part that Riggs is a member of that select group.”

“Riggs—Buckman—was a witness? To what?”

Jackson shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares? What I’m telling you is that Riggs is a criminal. Or was a criminal. Probably drugs or something like that. Maybe Mafia informant. Witness Protection isn’t used for purse snatchers.”

LuAnn settled back against the wall to keep herself from falling.
Riggs was a criminal.

“I hope you haven’t confided anything to him. There’s no telling what his agenda might be.”

“I haven’t,” LuAnn managed to say.

“So what can you tell me about the man?”

“Not as much as you just told me. He doesn’t know any more than he did before. He’s not pushing the issue. He thinks Donovan was a potential kidnapper. From what you just said, I’m sure he doesn’t want to draw any attention to himself.”

“True, that’s very good for us. And I’m sure your little rendezvous this morning didn’t hurt at all.”

“That’s really none of your business,” she retorted hotly. With their exchange of information at an end, she wasn’t going to let that remark pass.