Burying the Past

by Travis Starnes

  “How many meetings did they come to?” Taylor asked.

  “Two.”

  “Were they friendly with anyone?”

  “Only each other. They barely responded when anyone talked to them. We tried hard at first since they were not only ethnically closer to the problems we try to address but actually came from the Middle East. I’d had hopes when they first signed up that they’d give us some new perspectives to help with our cause.”

  “Well,” Whitaker said, standing up, “I guess that answers our questions then.”

  The professor just nodded, never getting up, still struggling with the news. Taylor was certain he’d find some way to twist the events into the reason he should double down on his existing beliefs, instead of taking the incident as a cautionary lesson. However, the last thing Taylor wanted to do was try and convince a true believer.

  They spent the rest of the day running down all of their other classes and groups, any of the cell's members had been a part of, all of which turned up equally disappointing results. As far as anyone could say, all five of the students had been non-entities. In any class they were in, or group they joined, they were fairly disconnected. They only really did any talking or socializing with each other. Most of the people Taylor and Whitaker talked to, couldn’t even remember them in anything beyond vague outlines.

  Memphis FBI Office

  “So it’s a dead end?” Crawford asked after they’d reported on what they’d learned at the school.

  “It seems so,” Whitaker said. “No red flags stood out, anyways.”

  Taylor shook his head and said, “I still think whatever the connection was, it’s at the school.”

  “If it is, it seems pretty buried. You’ve looked at everything they did on campus. If you’re still certain, you should track down the other members of this Middle East peace group and talk to them then,” Crawford said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s what we do,” Crawford said. “I know you’re all about following your gut, but we have procedures for a reason. We have to check out everything, even if it seems certain there’s nothing to it. It’s how we crack cases. Police work isn’t about kicking in doors and gunning down bad guys. It’s about thorough, meticulous investigations. It’s how we ‘work the problem.’ Plus, what else do we have?”

  “What about Ali? We could make another go at him.”

  “We’re doing that, but it takes time. Just hammering away at him isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  “So while you do that, we do busy work?”

  “John,” Whitaker said, “he’s right. This isn’t busy work, it's police work. If you’re confident the connection is still at the school, then this is the only real lead in that direction. They were only involved in a few other groups, so we probably need to talk to people in those groups, too. We’ll start with the Middle East peace group first, since it’s the most obvious, then move on to the other groups. If nothing pans out there, we move on to anyone they took a class with. Unless you have another idea of how we can track down Qasim?”

  “Fine. We’ll look into them.”

  “This isn’t going to break, today,” Crawford said. “Word about the explosion being a possible terrorist incident has started hitting the news, and there’s a lot of speculation about suicide bombers. We just received word that the school’s canceling all classes for the day, probably out of fear that there will be more problems, and they’d be liable if they didn’t take appropriate precautions.”

  “That’ll make interviewing these other kids a pain in the ass.”

  “Some will stay here, and others will get pulled back to their parent's homes. I’ll have a few of the guys here run background checks on the other members of any of these groups and anyone they took classes with and see if any red flags pop up. Once we have all the checks done, we’ll split it up, and have agents go out and talk to everyone. I’ll even let you take your pick of who you interview.

  “That works.”

  “Also, I’m sending some of the stuff we found back to Quantico for analysis while I stay here and work on Ali. Let’s do this. You two go back to D.C., and follow up on that. Once we track down all these kids, we can figure out who’s going to interview who. Ok?”

  Taylor could recognize Crawford was trying to be accommodating and not give Taylor the worst of the busy work. While Crawford wouldn’t know it, this would also let Taylor take Kara to her next shrink appointment, plus run one other errand he’d been playing in his head for a while. Taylor wouldn’t walk out on a case to take care of personal business, but Crawford was right, they didn’t have anything at the moment. While Taylor thought the answer was somehow tied to the school, he still couldn’t see it.

  “I guess that works,” Taylor said, “but why are we sending anything back to Quantico. I thought field offices had their own labs?”

  “Many are contracted labs, not internal, which limits how much of a rush we can put on the work. Also, the field guys flagged a couple of things as being unexpected, and wanted our own labs to look into it.”

  “Unexpected how?”

  “They weren’t specific, At least not that made any sense to me. Apparently, some of the traces were chemical compounds that aren’t normally either in a standard apartment or in bombings. They said it isn’t completely unreasonable for them to be there, but it’s enough out of place that it could be the basis for some kind of chemical weapon. They hedge their bets a lot, so who knows.”

  “Alright. We’ll follow up on the lab and the group members.”

  “Now we just have to get lucky,” Crawford said.

  Alexandria, Virginia

  After the short flight back to DC they’d stopped at Quantico to sign over the chain of custody on the chemical samples, before heading home. The techs grumbled when Whitaker had told them she needed results right away, since apparently every agent tried to get their case pushed to the top of the pile. The fact that they were working a national security case with the eye of the AG himself, didn’t seem to make them any happier about someone jumping the line. They did, however, agree and said they’d have something the next morning.

  Taylor was tired and just wanted to sit down for a little bit and think. He knew he was missing something, but the FBI’s need to constantly be doing something, made it hard for him to have the time to concentrate on the problem.

  The elevator door opened and Taylor stiffened. There was a man in a rumpled sports coat standing next to their apartment door he didn’t recognize. This was a controlled building and people who weren’t tenants or guests shouldn’t have been able to get in. Taylor wasn’t a fan of surprises, more so now, considering the case.

  His hand slipped to his waist, lifting up his jacket and gripping the butt of his pistol. He felt Whitaker doing the same thing beside him, as she also alerted to the surprise.

  “Mr. Taylor?” The man asked, standing up from his lean on the wall and starting towards Taylor and Whitaker.

  “Stay right there,” Taylor said, putting up his free hand.

  “Whoa. Hey, it’s ok. I’m a reporter with the Herald. I can show you ID.”

  “Go ahead,” Taylor said, not pulling his hand off his weapon. “Slowly.”

  The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangular badge, holding it out. Taylor turned his body to keep his weapon turned away from the man and took the ID. As the man had said, it showed he was a reporter with the Washington Herald, with his picture and the name Jordan Hidalgo underneath.

  Taylor pulled his hand off his gun and handed the ID back saying, “What can I do for you, Mr. Hidalgo.”

  “What’s your connection to Senator Caldwell?”

  “You should ask her that,” Taylor said, walking past the man to the door of the apartment.

  “I’m asking you, Mr. Taylor. Isn’t it strange that a former soldier who was once wanted by Federal Marshals is spending time with the teenaged daughter of a U.S. Senator?”

  Taylor ig
nored the man and unlocked the door, Whitaker coming up behind him as he opened the door.

  “I think you should talk to me, Mr. Taylor. People are going to find out about you soon, and start wondering why the Republican nominee for President is connected to a soldier kicked out of the Army because of psychological problems.”

  “What’s strange, is how far your head is up your ass,” Taylor said, turning towards the reporter and taking a step.

  Whitaker put her hand in the center of Taylor’s chest and pushed him into the apartment.

  “No comment,” she said and closed the door.

  “What a piece of …”

  “I know,” Whitaker said. “You need to call the Senator.”

  “Yeah,” Taylor said, still glaring at the door.

  “John, drop it. He’s trying to provoke a reaction, it’s what they do. Talk to the Senator. She needs to know they’ve identified you and clearly started looking into your background. She’ll know what to do.”

  Taylor let out a sigh. He pushed his anger down and headed for the phone.

  “Loren,” he said when the Senator’s aid answered her personal cell phone, “I need to talk to the Senator.”

  “Mr. Taylor, she’s at an event and can’t speak at the moment. I’ll, of course, let her know you called as soon as we leave.”

  “I need to talk to her, now. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent.”

  Taylor could almost hear the man roll his eyes, but Loren only replied, “Hold, please.”

  The background noise of whatever event the Senator was at vanished as her assistant muted the phone. A full minute passed in silence, he and Whitaker standing in the living room, both on edge enough from the reporter that they didn’t sit.

  Finally, the phone filled with the background drone of the event as the Senator said, “John, what’s wrong?”

  “A reporter was at our door when we got home. He asked how I knew you, and he clearly had done research into my background. He knew about my medical discharge and that it was on psychological grounds. I’m not sure if he knew the specifics or he was just not saying to get my goat, but he knows who I am.”

  “Was Kara with you?”

  “No, just me and Loretta.”

  “Did you say anything to him?”

  “I told him he should ask you about how I know you. Loretta told him 'no comment.'”

  He could hear her let out a sigh, and Taylor knew she’d been concerned he might lose his temper and say something problematic to the reporter.

  “That’s good. They’re not going to let up, and he’s almost certainly not the last that’s going to show up at your door. You need to just keep saying 'no comment' for now. I’m going to have my people put out a statement to try and head off the wilder imaginations.”

  “Is there any way to keep Kara out of this?”

  “I’ll try, but honestly I don’t think so. There’s enough of a trail of you going to Russia, and then coming back with her and Mary Jane, that someone is bound to find it. Once they make the connection to Russia, they’ll find someone over there to bribe and get at least the basics of what happened and who she is.”

  “If they come after her, I can’t promise it’ll end well for them.”

  “I know, John. Please just try to remember, that will make things worse for you and her.”

  “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

  “We’ll start with a statement, and see where it goes from there. I will tell you now that at some point we’re going to have to set up a press conference and answer questions. Your background, what happened in Miami, then what happened in Russia will be just too juicy for them. We need to make sure they get the story we want them to have. If left to their own devices, they’ll let their imaginations run wild, and go with the most salacious explanation their warped minds can come up with.”

  “Will we all have to do a press conference?”

  “We can keep Kara out of it, but they’re going to ask about her.”

  “What will we tell them?”

  “I don’t know, yet. Give my team a few days to strategize. We’ll give them as little of the facts as we can, although we don’t want to lie to them. That has a way of spiraling out of control, and the lies almost certainly become the story and keep it in the news cycle longer. The good thing is the media has a short attention span and has to constantly be feeding the twenty-four-hour 'breaking news' beast. We just need to make sure that we don’t give them anything to keep this story going longer than it has to.”

  “Fine. Just let me know what I need to do.”

  “After what you did for my family, I’m sorry I have to ask for your help again, but I promise I’ll have your back.”

  “I know, Senator. I'm trying not to do anything that sinks your campaign.”

  “Clinton got impeached and still got re-elected. I think my campaign can withstand this, although I do ask that you don’t punch any reporters.”

  “No promises, but I’ll try.”

  “I have faith in you, John,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ll reach out as soon as I know if we need to set up a press conference. Thank you for letting me know about this. I have to get back to this event.”

  “Sure, good-bye, Senator.”

  Taylor disconnected and put his phone back in his pocket.

  “What did she say?” Whitaker asked.

  “She said she had faith I wouldn’t punch a reporter.”

  “Ha. Not a bet I’d take.”

  “Yeah, me neither. She said they’d put out a statement but didn’t think that would hold them off. She said we’d probably have to have a press conference.”

  “Including Kara?”

  “She said probably not, but I get the feeling she’s going to wait and see what the press digs up about me.”

  “Probably. I’ll call the doorman and let them know someone who shouldn’t be in the building, is. I'll warn him to be on the watch for reporters trying to sneak in the building. We’ll keep Kara on lock-down here for now, while you and I go and follow up with the lab, tomorrow.”

  “Kara has her psychologist appointment, tomorrow.”

  “Shit, I forgot.”

  “It didn’t sound like they’d have anything for us first thing in the morning. You go in and start following up on the kids in the student group while I take Kara to her appointment in the morning.”

  “The press will try and follow you.”

  “I can shake a tail. Once I lose them, I’ll see if the Senator has any ideas of where I can stash Kara till this blows over. After I get her somewhere safe, I’ll join you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  When Taylor and Whitaker decided to move in together, he’d originally wanted them to find a new place instead of him just moving into hers. This morning, however, he decided it hadn’t been a bad idea after all. Whitaker’s apartment building was favored by government officials who valued their privacy, which led to both the garage and building itself having controlled access. Now that the doormen had been alerted to press interest in one of their residences, they were able to get to and from their cars without much hassle.

  Whitaker called once she’d left to warn him people had staked out the garage. While some followed her, others stayed behind when they realized it was just her in the car. Taylor had Kara lay down on the back floor of the SUV and covered her with a blanket to hide her from view. A few of the press staking out the building tried to tail him, but he was able to lose them in the busy Washington traffic as he headed out of the suburb and into the city for Kara’s psychologist appointment.

  While she was in talking to the shrink, Taylor dug into the first reports detailing the backgrounds of the students signed up for the Middle East peace group. Except for Saeed and his roommates, the group was almost a textbook example of nondescript. Taylor spent almost the entire hour reading up on the backgrounds on each of the kids.

  There was a girl from Memphis working on a poli-sci degree, three kids fr
om California working towards various liberal arts degrees, including one from San Diego who was notable for having been arrested at several protest marches, a girl from rural Virginia about forty miles outside D.C., a kid from Ann Arbor, a kid from Texas with an older brother in prison and two girls from New York.