Burying the Past

by Travis Starnes

  “It does seem like a leap to say the only reason they chose that town was because of Mary Bennett. Unless she’s a much bigger player in this than it seems now, that doesn’t feel like something Qasim would do. He doesn’t go for the easy solution when there’s a better tactical one.”

  “Then why?”

  “I have no idea. We just don’t know enough about what’s going on. We have a pretty good idea what his plan is, to contaminate a water supply and cause a mass casualty event, but we don’t know where he intends to do it. How does this Mary Bennett tie into everything, beyond her being in a student group with an apparently unconnected cell of terrorists connected to a separate terrorist organization that Qasim just used for logistical support? There are just too many disparate threads. Until we start connecting some of the pieces, we don’t know enough to get ahead of him.”

  “Do we know who those two shooters at the water treatment plant were?” Whitaker asked.

  “Not yet. They weren’t on file here, and we have no record of anyone with their prints coming through customs. We’ve sent their info to Interpol and asked a few of our sister agencies if they know who they are, but no answer yet. When you two are released, head back to DC. Until he slips up, or more likely one of the people he’s using slips up like that kid in Tennessee, we’re left with chasing down leads and hoping something breaks.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “I’m staying here in DC for the time being. They don’t need me underfoot in Amberville, so I’ll keep people working the leads and stay on top of the lab boys, see if we can get some more answers on this chemical they're using.”

  “Ok. Thanks, Dean,” Whitaker said. “We’ll see you soon.”

  Whitaker and Crawford hung up, leaving Taylor with his thoughts again. He sat trying to work the problem, piece through what he knew and see if he could reason out where Qasim might be going next, but he just didn’t have enough information. He’d been blindsided in Amberville, thinking it was a fool’s errand, and that had gotten a lot of people killed; but with what they knew at the time, Mary Bennett just didn’t look like a good lead. They were running pretty far behind Qasim, and it was starting to make Taylor mad. He wasn’t going to let the madman get away from him, not when he finally had his shot at getting even.

  Another hour passed when the doctor finally came and gave him the all-clear. Unfortunately, that all clear did not come with getting his clothes back. Apparently they were contaminated enough they had to be destroyed. They gave him a plain, blue jumpsuit that technicians would wear in the field so he could get home, and they gave him his gun and phone back, as well as his id and credit cards out of his now incinerated wallet. Apparently natural materials could absorb the gas.

  When he finally walked out of the isolation room, Whitaker was there waiting for him, also in a blue jumpsuit.

  “This sucks,” Taylor said.

  “Tell me about it. I liked that pants suit.”

  “We left your SUV in Amberville. How are we getting home?”

  “Crawford had motor pool issue me a new vehicle and an agent drop it off while we were in quarantine.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  “He’s not such a bad guy, John.”

  “Yeah, I know, but you can’t expect me to start playing nice with others just because they’re good people.”

  “Heaven forbid. Let’s get home and make sure Kara didn’t burn the apartment building down.”

  “Not going straight to the Bureau offices?”

  “Not today. Crawford has a bunch of agents working leads. There’s not much we can add that they aren’t already doing.”

  “A whole town just got wiped out. I can’t just go home and watch TV while a madman is still out there.”

  “I know it sucks, and as soon as there’s something for us to chase down, we will. We’ll also help run down leads, but as you’ve said before, this isn’t what you’re good at. This is how working a case sometimes goes. Even in the reddest of red balls, sometimes things move slowly until we get a good break in the case.”

  “I’m not sure how you guys are able to be so passive about it.”

  “We’re the FBI. We don’t work stolen cars, we work federal crimes. They’re all major and they all affect a lot of people. If an agent lets it take over their life, they burn out fast. We take it seriously, and this more so than any case I’ve worked before, but we can’t move faster than the leads we have. We just work the case and follow where it goes.”

  Taylor followed her out to the parking lot, positive once more that he’d make a terrible federal agent. They were about halfway home when Taylor’s phone rang again.

  “This is Taylor.”

  “John, I wanted to make sure you and Loretta were alright. I heard you’d been injured in a chemical attack.”

  Taylor put the phone on speaker, while he wondered how Senator Caldwell could have possibly heard about it. Sure she was on the intelligence committee, but Taylor wouldn’t have trusted that information to them until he absolutely had to hand it over, knowing politicians as he did.

  “Whitaker’s here with me. We’re both fine. We were wearing protective gear. They just wanted to make sure we were not exposed.”

  “Thank you for asking, Senator,” Whitaker said.

  “Some of the reports I’m seeing about your terrorist are concerning, John.”

  “I know, Senator, we’re working hard to get him.”

  “I know you are. Unfortunately, that isn’t why I’m calling. I do want to know, since you were sent into isolation at Fort Detrick, can I assume you two aren’t actively chasing a lead at the moment?”

  Taylor shared a look with Whitaker, amazed by the depth and accuracy of the Senator's information.

  “Not at the moment. Agents are currently working leads, and we’ll be back at the Hoover building in the morning doing the same.”

  “Good. Then I have an onerous task for you John, that I know you aren’t going to like.”

  “What?” Taylor asked, feeling a knot in his stomach tighten.

  “Some of the press have gotten wind of you and were able to dig enough background on you, including hints at your last trip to Russia, that we have to address it. We’re going to have a press conference this evening where I will go public about Mary Jane’s abduction, so we can get in front of these things. We won’t give out a lot of details, but you’ve already been connected enough that we can’t keep you out of it. I know you’re going to absolutely hate this, but I would like for you to be there and answer questions as well.”

  Taylor groaned. He didn’t mean to do it out load, since it was both rude to a woman who’d already gone to bat for him and it made him sound a bit too much like a petulant child, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  “You know I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t think it was the right move, John. They’ve got your name. If we can make them feel like they’ve got the full story, then the pressure on you shouldn’t get any worse. If they feel like we’re hiding you away, you’ll have the vultures all over you. I’m just trying to think of you and Loretta and Kara.”

  Taylor liked the Senator and knew she really did want to keep the pressure on his family as minimal as possible, but he also one-hundred percent knew this wasn’t her only reasoning. Then again, she was very likely going to be the next President of the United States, which made saying no to her even harder.

  “I’ll do it, Senator, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold my temper, or my mouth, if any of them ask anything too stupid.”

  Caldwell let out a short laugh and said, “I wouldn’t expect any less from you John. I’ll have Loren send a car for you at six-thirty and we’ll try and give you a walkthrough of what to expect before we put you in front of the cameras. Thank you for doing this John. It means a lot to me.”

  “Of course, Senator.”

  He disconnected and looked at Whitaker, who purposefully kept her eyes on the road.

  “Just don’t pu
nch any of them,” Whitaker said with a slight smile.

  Chapter 10

  “You’re...” Kara started to say as Taylor and Whitaker walked into their apartment and stopped, staring at them. “What happened?”

  “We had a very bad day,” Taylor said, not wanting to talk about the tragedy in Amberville or worry Kara.

  “Clearly.”

  “Come on, you’ve gotta get cleaned up. The person picking you up should be here soon.”

  “What are you going to do while I’m at this thing?” Taylor said as he followed her into their bedroom.

  “Go to the office. I know Crawford wants us to take the day off, but I want to make sure they aren’t missing anything.”

  “I really should be with you working on finding Qasim before he kills anyone else, instead of answering a bunch of pointless questions.”

  “No, you need to help the Senator. We have enough people following up on leads, one more won’t matter.”

  “If there are already enough people, why are you going?”

  “Because I’m a perfectionist. Let’s be serious though, you hate this part of the work. Until we get more, there isn’t much for you to do unless some epiphany comes across. I’ll make sure we get the leads we need, so we can get back on Qasim’s trail, and you make sure reporters aren’t going to be chasing us around the country while we chase a terrorist.”

  By the time Taylor was out of the shower, Whitaker had left for the office already. Helpfully, she’d laid out a suit for him to wear, probably thinking, correctly, that he’d have ended up in jeans and a t-shirt if she’d left it up to him.

  “You look good,” Kara said when he came out to the living room. “Loretta makes good choices.”

  “Yeah, she does okay.”

  “Should I go with you?”

  “No. While it’s probably a lost cause now that they’re digging into my background, just in case, I’d like to keep them off your trail as long as possible.”

  “I can handle myself!”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Just don’t be punching anyone.”

  “That’s what Lola said.”

  “We both know you.”

  “Yeah,” he said and reached out to tousle her curly red hair. She was just preparing to launch herself at him when the intercom buzzed.

  “Saved by the bell,” she said, jabbing him in the stomach with a finger.

  Taylor chuckled and headed out the door. Photographers swamped the front door of the apartment building, with the doorman trying in vain to hold them back as Taylor walked out and into the waiting car. He made a mental note to leave a big tip for the man at the end of the month, to make up for all the trouble this nonsense was causing.

  He was spared the same scene at the hotel where the press conference was scheduled, thanks to a private area in the hotel’s parking garage that only let in authorized vehicles. Loren Dashel was standing by the door when the car pulled up.

  “You’re late, Mr. Taylor.”

  “It’s your driver, Loren,” Taylor shot back.

  While Taylor didn’t directly hate Loren, he found the man stiff-necked and annoying at times. Taylor knew Dashel thought of Taylor as some kind of knuckle-dragging Cro-Magnon who had no business being within five miles of the Senator.

  “Of course,” Dashel said, looking around the parking garage avoiding Taylor's gaze. “We need to hurry, now. The Senator’s waiting for you and the press is already seated.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “You’ll go on stage with the Senator and stand to the right of Mariah; she’s the Senators’ press secretary, while the Senator stands to her left. Mariah will give a brief introduction and then step away from the podium. The Senator will step up and make her statement, then open the floor for questions. You should remain silent, even if asked a direct question. If the Senator wants you to answer, she will step aside and make a gesture for you to step over to the podium. Give as short of a response as possible. The more words you say, the easier it is for the press to take something out of context. Once you’ve answered, step away so the Senator can step back up to the podium. Above all else, it’s important to remember to not lose your temper or have an outburst. Is that all clear?”

  “I promise I won’t pee on the stage, either.”

  Dashel made a face but didn’t respond. They passed through several winding corridors past hotel employees before Loren led Taylor through a small door. The room was very small, with one door to the right of where Taylor entered.

  Senator Caldwell, as meticulously dressed as ever, stood in the center of the room speaking with an equally well dressed, and much younger, woman with light brown hair.

  “John, excellent,” Caldwell said as he walked up to her.

  She straightened his tie and gave his arm an almost motherly pat before saying, “This is Mariah Russell, my press secretary. Did Loren walk you through what’s going to happen?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Good, good. Now, John, before we go out, these people have already dug some dirt up on you. They’re going to ask questions specifically chosen to get a rise out of you. Please just remember, as a veteran, they assume you’re a barbarian. Don’t give them the satisfaction of losing your temper.”

  Taylor could only imagine what everyone else thought of him, since Caldwell was the fourth person to remind him to not lose his temper.

  “I’ll try my best, Senator.”

  “I know you will, John. I appreciate you being here and helping us out.”

  With a nod to Russell, they all headed out the other door of the room, which lead into sheer chaos. The door opened into one corner of a much larger room. Directly in front of them was a small stage with a light blue curtain as a backdrop. In front of the stage were several rows of chairs, each with a reporter sitting in it. The walls were lined with photographers, and TV cameras along the back wall were shining their blazing white lights. The room erupted into noise as soon as Caldwell entered. Camera flashes began going off as what had to be hundreds of pictures of them walking to the podium were taken.

  Taylor had a brief moment of internal panic, as the barrage of lights and sound caused a brief flash-back to the convoy firefight in Afghanistan that lead to his three-year imprisonment by Qasim. He hadn’t had a nightmare or flashback to that awful day in almost a year, ever since he and Whitaker began their relationship in earnest, and the experience left him off balance. Taylor stumbled briefly until Dashel, who was behind him, put a hand on his back to keep walking. After a glance back Taylor walked up to stand in his place next to Russell and wait. Caldwell, glanced at him briefly, a worried look crossing her face for just a second as she noticed the sweat start to spring up on Taylor’s forehead.

  “Thank you for coming,” Russell said into the microphones on the podium.

  The words had an almost magical effect as all the noise from the reporters instantly died down. The cameras continued to flash, but at a much slower rate, bringing the level of chaos down to a point where Taylor could regain his composure a bit.

  “Senator Caldwell has a brief statement to read and then we will open the floor for questions. I know many of you have been with us for several months and know the drill, but as a reminder to any new people. We will only answer questions if you are called upon. Any shouted questions will be ignored. If everyone starts shouting questions, we will end the press conference. So please, try to remain calm, and we will try to get to as many questions as we can. Senator.”

  The last word was said as Russell backed away from the podium to make way for the Senator.

  “Thank you, Moriah. Six months ago, while at a local DC nightclub with friends, my daughter was kidnapped by criminals’ intent on trafficking American girls. She was a target of opportunity, and they were not aware of her connection to me. Despite the quick response and best efforts of law enforcement, her captors managed to get her and several other younger girls out of the country. While the State Department was in c
ontact with several Eastern European countries, which is where law enforcement believed they were being taken, about finding the girls, as a mother I was not willing to wait and hope for the best.”

  “Based on multiple recommendations, I hired Mr. Taylor to help find and bring my daughter back to me. Mr. Taylor, a retired and highly decorated member of the elite U.S. Army Special Forces, had been working across the country to help find abducted or lost family members, nationwide, including the successful rescue of Samantha Brown and the capture of the man I believe you in the press dubbed ‘the substitute snatcher’, which I’m sure our Idaho colleges will have heard of.”