First to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  Stone turned up the volume.

  He caught Shepard Smith in mid-sentence: “…know so far. A bomb has been detonated at the Sacramento field office of the FBI. We have no information on the number of people killed or wounded. From what local authorities have indicated, this is clearly an act of terrorism, and not an accidental explosion. The bomb was detonated very close to ten am Pacific time—”

  “Get everyone in here.”

  “They’re already on the way,” Watson said.

  His secretary appeared at the door. “The president’s on three.”

  He nodded to her. “Leaf, I want a chemical analysis on the material we seized in California. Find out if it matches this new bombing. Make it happen fast. I’ll call Quantico and tell them to expect your call.” Stone disconnected and punched the blinking button. “Mr. President.”

  “Stone, I need a briefing as soon as you have anything.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, you’ll get it.”

  “What’s your initial assessment? Is it Al Qaeda?”

  “I don’t think so. I have no way of confirming it, but my instincts tell me it’s related to the raid we made in California several days ago. I don’t think it’s a coincidence the FBI was targeted, or that the bombing occurred in Sacramento. I think this is revenge-driven, sir.”

  “Anything you need?”

  “Time. My people are doing a residue analysis as we speak. I think we’ll find it’s a match to the seized cache of Semtex.”

  “When will you know for sure if it’s a match?”

  One thing Stone knew when dealing with the president: Never, ever, bullshit the man. If you don’t know, say so. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out within twenty-four hours max.”

  “I don’t need to tell you the repercussions of this, Stone, especially after your press conference regarding the Semtex raid yesterday. This is getting wall-to-wall coverage on every major network.”

  “I’m on it, Mr. President.”

  “Call me, I’ll make sure you’re put through. I need to be one-hundred percent sure.”

  “Understood.”

  The president never said good-bye in the conventional sense. When the conversation was over, he just hung up. Well, this conversation was over.

  Stone punched the intercom button. “Heidi, put me through to Kevin Ramsland at Quantico’s materials lab right away. If he’s not in his office, have him paged and hold the line until they find him. See if you can reach Director Lansing, but Ramsland’s call takes priority.”

  Stone frowned. Larry Gifford worked in the Sacramento field office. His frown deepened when he realized Nathan also remained in the area. Though seldom used, his son’s phone number was one of twenty-five speed-dial presets.

  Just before he dialed Nathan’s number, Heidi’s voice came through the intercom. “I have Kevin Ramsland on line one.”

  Stone punched the line and picked up the handset. “Special Agent Ramsland, thank you for taking my call.”

  “No problem, Senator.”

  “My man Leaf Watson needs a bomb-residue analysis ASAP. Can you see to it personally?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I’ve already called down to the lab. We’re just waiting for the trace to arrive.”

  “How long will it take once you have it?”

  “For the best result, we’ll need to detonate a small sample and compare it to the trace from Sacramento. It shouldn’t take more than an hour once we have it. Can you get someone to fly the samples out here personally? That would save a bunch of time.”

  “I’ll make it happen.”

  “Who did this, Senator?”

  “I’m not one-hundred percent sure, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  “I’m beyond angry.”

  “Channel the anger, Mr. Ramsland. Stay focused. I’ll call you back about the courier.”

  “We’re ready over here.”

  Stone hit the intercom button. “Any luck reaching Lansing?”

  “He’s on the phone,” Heidi answered. “His secretary promised a callback within fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Call Leaf back. Ask him to get a copy of any security video taken from the Sacramento field office. Tell him to have a sample of the Semtex recovered at Freedom’s Echo and a sample of the bomb residue from the Sacramento field office flown over to Quantico by an FBI courier right away. First available flight. I want those Semtex samples flown directly into Quantico’s airfield within five hours. I don’t care if the courier has to be strapped into the backseat of a California Air National Guard Strike Eagle if that’s what it takes.”

  Chapter 13

  Nathan’s cell woke him. He immediately scanned his surroundings, unsure of where he was. The ER’s waiting room. Having confirmed Holly had survived but remained in surgery, Nathan had planted himself and promptly fallen asleep. He looked at his watch. Four hours had passed. Sitting directly across from him, Bruce Henning had also dozed off, but Nathan’s phone had awakened him as well. The LCD indicated a restricted number.

  “Hello.”

  “Mr. McBride?”

  “Who’s calling?”

  “FBI Director Ethan Lansing.”

  Nathan didn’t respond.

  “Are you there, Mr. McBride?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve got your green light. Don’t do anything until we talk again.”

  The line went dead.

  Henning looked haunted. “Holly’s awake, barely. She needed emergency surgery to relieve pressure on her brain. She wants to talk to you.”

  “How’d she look?”

  “Not so good. She’s been in and out of consciousness for the last hour. They’ve got her pumped full of morphine.”

  “Her burns, how severe are they?”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I called her cell. A paramedic answered it.”

  “They’re mostly on her legs and back. Not too bad, considering where she was. The doctors think something large struck her head, a piece of a desk or chair. Could’ve been anything.”

  “Where were you when it detonated?” Nathan thought it strange he hadn’t asked this until now.

  “Second floor, far side of the building. The air… It seemed to shimmer for an instant.”

  “The compression wave. How are your ears?”

  “Still ringing. I hope it goes away.”

  “It should. Might take a day or two. Can you take me up to see her?”

  “Yeah, sure. I didn’t want to wake you. You know, I… ah… never thanked you the other night for saving my wife’s life up at the compound.” Henning attempted a smile. “I hear she tried to kill you.”

  “Tried being the operative word. Is she okay? Was she in the building?”

  “No.”

  “I’m on your side.”

  Henning nodded. “I know that now. I’m sorry about being rude the other night.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Will you keep your visit brief? She needs to sleep.”

  “No problem.” Nathan followed him through the emergency room’s foyer, past four Sacramento police officers, and down a narrow hall lit with fluorescent lights.

  At a bank of elevators, Henning pressed the button and took a step back. “We’ve got twenty-one dead, fifty-eight with serious injuries. Seven of them critical.”

  Nathan said nothing.

  “It’s not hard to guess who did this. You going after them?”

  “Big-time.”

  “I want to help. What can I do?”

  Nathan turned and faced him. “You’re a hardworking and honest public servant, Henning. SAC Simpson told me as much on the drive up to the cabin. Don’t blow everything you’ve worked for over this. It’s too high a price.”

  “Fuck that. As far as I’m concerned, the gloves are off.” A soft chime announced the elevator’s arrival. They stepped in and waited for the stainless-steel doors to close. “We take care of our own.” Henning stabbed the third-floor
button harder than he needed to.

  Being careful not to sound condescending, Nathan said, “That’s not how you felt the other night. Look, I’m dirty when it comes to this sort of thing. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Constitution when the stakes are high enough. Only a fool plays by the rules when the other side doesn’t. If we’re going to find these guys, things may have to get nasty. And I mean nasty.”

  “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

  “For starters, I’ll need access to the NCIC database, and I’ll need license plates run, addresses, phone numbers. Those kinds of things.”

  Henning pulled his wallet, removed a business card, and wrote a number on the back. “This is my cell. I keep with me all the time, twenty-four-seven.”

  “You’re risking a lot by helping me.”

  “I have to sleep at night.”

  “This doesn’t go any farther than you, Harvey, and me unless you want Holly to know. It’s your call. Given the circumstances, I don’t think she’ll object.”

  The elevator opened onto the third-floor ICU where they had assisted with the wounded several hours ago. All was calm. The nurse’s station was manned. The gurneys gone. The blood mopped. The smell of charred flesh cleaned from the air. Henning nodded to the uniformed police officer sitting to the left. Nathan followed Henning to the nurse’s station where they identified themselves and signed the log sheet. Holly was in room 312. As they walked through the ICU, Nathan considered telling Henning about his conversation with Holly in the piano bar, how she’d agreed to help in much the same way, but dismissed the thought. He didn’t want to betray her trust. It wasn’t Nathan’s place, nor his nature, to disclose anything he and Holly had talked about. If Holly told Henning, that was fine. And he wasn’t going to betray Director Lansing’s trust either. As far as Holly was concerned, Lansing’s call giving Nathan a green light never happened. And what exactly was a green light? What did it mean? For now, he couldn’t worry about it. He’d do things his way and let the chips fall where they might, although he was reasonably sure the old adage Kill ’em all and let God sort ’em out, didn’t apply.

  “What are you thinking about?” Henning asked.

  “My next moves.”

  “And those are?”

  They stopped at Holly’s room. The door was closed.

  Keeping his voice low, Nathan continued. “I’m going to find people connected with the Bridgestones. With your help, it should be easier.”

  “Where will you start?”

  “Ernie Bridgestone. I’m going to look at the visitation logs from his prison term in Fort Leavenworth. There might be a contact there. An old girlfriend or drinking buddy. I’m also going to look into Leonard Bridgestone’s military contacts when he was stationed on the Iraq-Syrian border. I think that’s where this Semtex business started. Also, the Bridgestones probably have someone on the inside of a financial institution laundering the cash. I’m betting it was a fellow officer or a grunt from his unit, but it could be anyone associated with either of them. That’s where you come in. I give you names, you give me everything the FBI has on them.”

  “You got it.” Henning opened the door and stepped aside. In a whisper, he said, “Keep it brief, under five minutes, okay?”

  What Nathan saw next nearly brought him to tears.

  Holly Simpson lay on her back. The top left side of her head was shaved and wrapped with gauze. Both shoulders were secured by harnesses designed to keep the dislocated joints from moving. Her legs, from the hips down, were braced with some sort of external steel supports designed to minimize contact with her skin, which was also wrapped in gauze. Burns, Nathan knew. Seeping through in areas, reddish-yellow stains contrasted the white gauze. Two IV’s were dripping fluids into veins on both her wrists. The soft beeping of her heart monitor was the only sound present.

  Her eyes opened at hearing a visitor and she turned her head. “I guess they found us.”

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  “I must look like a real mess.”

  “Holly, I’m so sorry.”

  “Can you get me a drink of water, please?”

  Nathan approached the bed and guided the cup’s straw to her lips.

  She pulled a small amount into her mouth and tried to smile. “Thanks.”

  “More?”

  She nodded.

  Nathan let her have as much as she wanted. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Just after fourteen-thirty.”

  “Can you elevate my bed a little?”

  “Sure.” Nathan reached for the controller and hit the button. The electric motor whined softly. She did her best to conceal it, but her face tensed with pain.

  “That’s good, thanks. There’s no TV in here, I haven’t seen any coverage. How many?”

  “Twenty-one. Seven more may not make it.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. “I should’ve taken better security measures, had more guards at the gate.”

  “Holly, don’t do this. They would’ve been killed where they stood. Don’t second-guess yourself.”

  “Director Lansing called me.”

  Nathan waited.

  “He asked me lots of questions, all of them about you, mostly about what kind of person you are.”

  “I’m in trouble.”

  She managed a smile. “He told me about your call, what you want to do. We both agreed we want you aboard.”

  “I didn’t want to betray his trust, but now that you know, he called a little while ago and gave me a green light.”

  “Director Lansing told me Larry Gifford was killed in the blast.”

  He shook his head and forced himself to relax his hands. Damn those Bridgestones. “I liked him a lot.”

  “Me too. Is Bruce here?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you bring him in, please?”

  Nathan walked over to the door and opened it. Henning was standing a respectable distance away. Nathan knew he didn’t want to appear as though he’d been eavesdropping. “She wants you to come in.”

  With both men at her bedside, Holly continued. “Last night I promised to help Nathan. That’s on you now. Are you two okay?”

  Henning said, “We’re on the same page now.”

  “That’s good.” Her face tensed with pain. “I want you to give him NCIC database information when he asks for it. Okay?”

  “No problem. I’m glad to do it.”

  “I’ve cleared it with Director Lansing. He’s having a Lear flown out from DC. It’s at Nathan’s disposal, okay? Anywhere he wants to go. You go with him, but I don’t want you directly involved. Support only.”

  “Understood,” Henning said.

  “The Bridgestones left a note in the guard shack. It only had five words. Expect more of the same.”

  Nathan shook his head.

  “Our document people are checking it out, trying to determine what kind of paper and printer was used. We might catch a break. Director Lansing’s beefed up security at every field office and resident agency.” Holly closed her eyes. “Find them, Nathan. We can’t let this happen again.”

  “You can count on it.”

  During the elevator ride down to the lobby, Henning did his best to hide the fury he was feeling, but Nathan felt it, like heat from an oven.

  Outside, Henning asked, “What kind of animals would do this? Those sick fucks.”

  “There’s no easy answer to that except that the safety mechanisms that keep most of us in check are absent in those two. They’ve justified the bombing as revenge for their kid brother’s death.”

  “You think they’ll try to hit another field office?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. The note’s likely just a diversion to draw attention away from their true target.”

  Henning waited.

  “Me.”

  * * *

  At the Hyatt, Henning pulled his sedan up to the curb and killed the engine. Rather than simply drop Nathan off, he stepped out a
nd shook hands. “I’ll call you as soon as the Lear arrives,” Henning said. “Is there anywhere you want to go right away?”

  “The USDB at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.”

  “USDB?”

  “United States Disciplinary Barracks. I hadn’t planned on going out there because of the time it would take flying commercial airlines. With the Lear, we can land right at the fort. I want to speak to the psychiatrist who counseled Ernie Bridgestone. Ernie was nearly beaten to death in there, I read it in his file. To get over something like that, he probably needed support from the prison shrink, who might have a useful insight into Ernie’s psyche, as well as his personal life. I’m looking for any lead I can get. I just hope the psychiatrist is willing to talk and doesn’t pull some doctor-patient BS on me.”

  “Given the circumstances, I hope he shares whatever he has.” The fed grinned. “You could always visit him after hours if he doesn’t cooperate.”

  “You know, I’m beginning to think you really are with the program.”

  “Listen, I want to thank you for helping out in the ICU with our wounded. I didn’t mean what I said. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Thanks for saying that.”

  “I’ll call if there’s any change in Holly’s condition.”

  “Get some sleep, Special Agent Henning. There’s a basic rule in the Marine Corps. Sleep when you can.”

  Henning sighed. “I’ve got a long report to write, but it can wait. Now that you mention it, I’m pretty damned tired. I hope you’re right about this ringing in my ears, it’s driving me crazy.” Henning got into the sedan and rolled his window down.

  “I mean it, Henning, get some shut-eye. I’d like to be in Fort Leavenworth before sunrise.”

  * * *

  Inside his room, Nathan plopped down on the bed.

  “That you?” Harv called from the connecting room.

  He stared at the ceiling. “Yeah.” He sensed Harv’s presence at the adjoining door and answered his unspoken question. “She’s gonna pull through. They’ve got her doped up on morphine for eight broken bones, a fractured skull, and second-degree burns, but she should be okay in the long run. No spinal or nerve damage.”