First to Kill

by Andrew Peterson

  “What’s his prognosis?”

  “Unless he receives comprehensive therapy, hopeless. He won’t change. He can’t. To use a metaphor, he’ll spend the rest of his life barking at the moon.”

  “What did you talk about?” Nathan asked. “I mean generally. You know. What did Ernie think his problems were?”

  “That’s easy,” said Fitzgerald. “It was the drunk-driving incident that landed him here. He claimed he was railroaded.”

  “Was he?”

  “I reviewed the police reports and eyewitness accounts. There’s no question Ernie was legally drunk, but not overly so. From everything I remember reading, it wasn’t truly his fault. The woman walked out from between two parked cars. Even if he hadn’t been drinking, she still would’ve died. She was quite drunk herself.”

  “But railroaded?” Nathan asked. “It sounds like you actually give that some credence.”

  “I do give it some credence. Some, mind you.” Fitzgerald paused, trying to remember. “I don’t recall her name, but I think she was from a family of some influence. Justice acted swiftly in the case, that’s for sure. I kept copies of the newspaper articles in Ernie’s file. He griped about it a lot, to the point of being obsessive, swore to get revenge someday. He also never believed he got a fair court-martial.”

  “They’re all innocent,” Henning said.

  “Point taken,” Fitzgerald said. “But if the circumstances had been slightly different, there may not have been any charges leveled at all.”

  “We’ll check it out,” Nathan said. “Please send us everything you have on Ernie’s DUI conviction.”

  “Will do.”

  Nathan stood, shook hands, and gave Dr. Fitzgerald a business card with his cell and fax numbers handwritten on the back. Henning did the same. “I really appreciate you talking to us.”

  “To be honest, it wasn’t my decision. I got a call from the USDB’s commanding officer, who got a call from the fort’s commanding officer, who had received a call from the Chief of Staff of the Army.”

  Good old Thorny, Nathan thought. “Well, I still appreciate it.”

  “One last thing,” Fitzgerald said. “Watch yourselves. They don’t come more vicious than Ernie Bridgestone.”

  Chapter 15

  On the drive out of the fort, Nathan and Henning rode in silence. They didn’t want to discuss anything in front of the cabbie. Back at the motel, Nathan paid the fare and offered a generous tip.

  Walking through the lobby, Nathan asked, “So, what do you think?”

  Henning shook his head. “That stuff about teaching a kid to smile was creepy.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird, all right.”

  “What do you think?”

  “What I think,” Nathan said, “is that wherever we go next, we should rent a car. It’d be better than taking taxis all over creation.”

  “So where do we go next?”

  “Fresno, to pay Amber Sheldon a visit.” Nathan looked at his watch. “I want to keep moving. When we find her, we won’t have time to conduct a prolonged surveillance. We’ll take the direct approach and knock on her door.”

  “Just like that?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Not really.”

  “We need to run her through the NCIC. Can you access the database from the motel?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe we’ll catch a break. If she’s in the system we’ll have a current address, even better if she’s on parole or probation. If she’s not at home when we show up, her PO will have her employment info.”

  “What do you hope to learn from her?” asked Henning. “I mean, besides the obvious, Ernie’s whereabouts.”

  “I’m not sure yet. I won’t know until I talk to her. We might be able to use her.”

  “Use her? Like bait?”

  Nathan needed to change the subject. He didn’t want to discuss this train of thought aloud. “We should call and check on your SAC, see how she’s doing and give her an update.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  “I’ll swing by your room in ten minutes.”

  Back in his room, Nathan thought about Amber Mills Sheldon. Interrogating a woman involved different techniques and psychology. In truth, he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. He’d interrogated women before and in some regards found them to be more resilient than men. Despite common belief, interrogation was a mind game more than anything else. To be effective, the victim’s spirit must be broken. Physical discomfort, while effective, wasn’t the best method unless the information was time-sensitive.

  He wished he had a female interrogator available. The psychology of having a woman present, looking on with emotional detachment and a complete lack of sympathy, worked well toward breaking a female’s spirit. Having a woman present was especially effective against men. Nathan figured it was the macho syndrome. Men didn’t like to appear weak and vulnerable, especially in front of women. Once again, it was all about mind games. Unless the victim had counter-interrogation training, it usually didn’t take long to wring information out of them. If that held true, Amber Sheldon wouldn’t be much of a challenge.

  He gave Henning a few extra minutes before knocking on his door.

  “It’s not locked,” Henning said.

  Nathan stepped in and left the door partly open. Sitting at a small desk, Henning was typing on his laptop’s keyboard.

  “What’ve we got?” Nathan asked.

  “Amber Sheldon is currently on probation for drunk and disorderly contact, disturbing the peace, and driving while intoxicated. Here, take a look. I didn’t bring a printer.”

  Nathan looked over Henning’s shoulder while he scrolled down to Amber Sheldon’s color mug shot. As usual, she didn’t look real happy. She had stringy blond hair, blue eyes, and a hollow, sullen-looking face, probably from using. She looked hard, a summa cum laude graduate of the school of hard knocks. When the picture was taken, she definitely fit the description of rode hard and put away wet. The photo was a year old.

  “She’s got a fairly long sheet,” Henning continued. “Nothing too serious. We have a current address, phone number, and place of employment. She lives in Fresno. Works at an establishment called Pete’s Truck Palace. Let’s see… After her arrest in 2006, her driver’s license was revoked for six months. Based on her background and the trouble she’s had with the law over the years, I’m not expecting her to be real friendly. Let’s make that call to SAC Simpson. I think she’ll want you present for the call.”

  Henning pulled his cell and scrolled down the numbers stored in memory. When he found the number he wanted, he hit send. He didn’t put it on speaker yet. Nathan waited.

  “Hi SAC, how are you feeling? Yes, he’s here. Okay.” Henning pressed the speaker button. “You’re on speaker.”

  “Hi, Nathan.”

  Nathan sat on the bed. “Hey there.” He didn’t ask how she was feeling, he already knew.

  “How are things going out there?” she asked.

  “Good. The meeting with the Castle’s shrink was helpful.”

  “What did you find out?”

  Nathan went over the salient points of their discussion. He finished with what they found on Amber Sheldon in the NCIC.

  “That’s good,” Holly said. “You heading to Fresno?”

  Nathan nodded for Henning to take over.

  “Yes,” Henning said. “We’re planning to rent a car, rather than call the Fresno resident agency for transportation. I’m trying to minimize Nathan’s exposure.”

  “Hold off on that,” Holly said. “Fresno’s ASAC, John Pallamary, is good friend of mine. We went through the academy together. I’ll give him a call.”

  “We’re hoping to be in the air within the next half hour,” Henning said.

  “What’s your plan once you get there?”

  “We have Sheldon’s current address, so we’ll head over there and see if she’ll talk to us.”

  “If she isn’t forthc
oming, let Nathan take over. Understood?”

  “Yes,” he said tightly.

  “Nathan, use your best judgment when questioning her.”

  Translation: Don’t get rough unless you absolutely have to. “No problem,” he said.

  Holly continued. “We’ve copied all the video from the bombing and sent it back east to your father’s committee. They’re trying to glean as much as they can. We’ve implemented the largest manhunt in the history of the bureau. Hundreds of agents are on the case. Three more of our people died last night, the rest are probably going to make it. Six of them will never walk again.”

  “I’m sorry, Holly.”

  “This isn’t your fault. I’ve had a lot time to think about it.”

  “Maybe I didn’t have to kill their little brother. Maybe I should’ve wounded him. I could’ve—”

  “Nathan, listen to me, I’ve read all the reports. Don’t do this. Sammy Bridgestone was aiming a sniper rifle at our SWAT teams. You took the proper action for the situation as it existed at the time. If our sniper team had seen him before you, they would’ve done exactly the same thing. Any law-enforcement officer in America would shoot to kill in that situation. Don’t second-guess yourself. None of this is your fault. Clear?”

  “Clear,” he said.

  “Okay. We’ve set up a hotline. Tips are coming in by the hundreds with possible sightings. We’re checking them out. ASAC Perry Breckensen is in temporary command. Nathan?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Despite all the manpower we’ve got, I think you’re our best chance at finding them.”

  Nathan said nothing.

  “I’ve got to go, my nurse just came in. Will you ask Harvey to share anything he finds with ASAC Breckensen?”

  “Sure, Holly. No problem.”

  “Bruce, remember, you’re a sworn law-enforcement officer. Where Nathan is concerned, it’s don’t ask, don’t tell.”

  “Understood,” he said quietly.

  “If you haven’t heard back from me before you leave Fresno, call me from the air.”

  “I will,” Henning said.

  “I’ve got to go.” The cell went dead.

  “She’s an amazing woman,” Nathan said.

  Henning reached for his laptop. “Let’s pack up and get going.”

  From his room Nathan called Harv and filled him in. Harv said he’d follow up and make sure he received the DUI news clippings and any other documents Fitzgerald had promised to send. Harv also told him Thorny came through with Leonard’s contacts from his deployment in Iraq.

  “We just talked to Holly.”

  “How’s she doing?” Harv asked.

  “She sounded tired, but otherwise not too bad.”

  “Listen, I got that tape of the Bridgestones torturing the two FBI surveillance techs. It’s pretty ugly stuff, but I didn’t hear anything we didn’t already know.”

  “Okay.”

  “All the techs could tell them was your name and that your father was Stone McBride. Incidentally, our personal info isn’t available. I had Mason try to dig it out. You know DMV, Social Security, IRS. He couldn’t come up with anything. I think we’re okay. They’d need someone on the inside of the DOD with high-level passwords to access anything on us, and I don’t see that happening. Your father’s a different matter. I don’t know how protected his personal information is.”

  “Me either,” Nathan said.

  “If they’re heading back east, it’s possible they could tail him from one of his public appearances. We should warn him to stay under the radar for the time being and hire some personal security guards.”

  “I told him the score. Keep checking Leonard’s contacts. I have a feeling one of them is our financial insider. We’re looking for someone within a day’s drive, two max.”

  “The list is pretty long, several hundred. And that’s a lot of territory to cover, basically the western third of the country.”

  “You might need to call ASAC Breckensen and ask for some help.”

  “I definitely will.”

  “Does the FBI have a temporary field office up and running yet?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out. Their building isn’t a total loss, but there’s no way they can operate out of there in its present condition. What about you? What’s next?”

  “Fresno. We’ll be airborne in half an hour. I’ll call once we know something.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, everyone was boarding the Lear. As Nathan climbed the stairs, he looked at First Officer Williamson and decided to play his hand. Time for this covert bullshit to end. Nathan spoke in Arabic. “We are on the same side, okay? I have no agenda other than finding the Bridgestones.”

  Williamson narrowed his eyes, but the spark of recognition in his expression couldn’t be hidden. Nathan knew he was considering his options. There were two. Continue playing the game or come clean. Henning turned at hearing Bridgestone’s name in a sentence spoken in Arabic.

  Williamson came clean. “Understood,” he answered in Arabic. “I am just doing my job. For what is it worth, I am not real happy about it.”

  Williamson headed for the cockpit.

  “What did you say to him?” Henning asked.

  “I told him the same thing I told you the first time we met, that we’re on the same side and my only goal is to find the Bridgestones.”

  Henning’s expression was genuinely puzzled and Nathan now believed he didn’t know Williamson had been assigned as a watchdog. He wasn’t sure before.

  “How did you know he spoke Arabic?”

  “When I spoke to the cabdriver early this morning, I didn’t see any reaction from him at all. None. Most people show some degree of surprise.”

  Henning lowered his voice. “You think Lansing brought him on board to keep an eye on things? To spy on you?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Why bring in someone who speaks Arabic? Al Qaeda isn’t involved with the Sacramento bombing. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It does if you consider Harv also speaks Arabic.”

  “Good grief,” Henning said. “Sometimes I think there’s no limit to the cloak-and-dagger bullshit in this business.”

  “Don’t worry about it, it’s a safe play on Lansing’s part. There’s a lot at stake. He was concerned I might speak in a foreign language with Harv to hide things we discover about the Bridgestones. I’d be willing to bet Williamson also speaks Russian. Probably Spanish too. We aren’t going to conceal anything from you guys. If your people find the Bridgestones before we do, that’s fine with me. Don’t get me wrong, we’d love some quality time with them, but finding them is the primary goal.”

  * * *

  In the cockpit, Williamson lowered his voice. “He knows.”

  “Is it going to be a problem?” Jenkins asked.

  “He seemed okay about it.”

  Jenkins was flipping avionic switches from a checklist as he spoke. “As far as I’m concerned, nothing’s changed. We keep reporting to Lansing as ordered.”

  “Do we tell Lansing he knows?”

  “Not unless we want egg on our faces,” Jenkins said. “He’d view McBride’s discovery as a blunder on our part.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that. McBride seems like a decent guy. It’s not hard to guess how he got those scars on his face. They aren’t random and he sure didn’t get them from any chainsaw accident.”

  Jenkins started the engines, keeping his eyes on the gauges. “I think you’re right, he’s a spook. Someone carved him during an interrogation. Had to be hell.”

  “Yeah, no kidding.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes into the flight, Henning used the air phone to call Holly again. Nathan looked over, but there was no way to put the call on speaker. After a brief conversation, he hung up.

  “She made contact with ASAC Pallamary from the Fresno resident agency. An agent’s going to meet us at the airport.”

  “You okay with
that?” Nathan asked.

  “I just follow orders.”

  Nathan heard the frustration in Henning’s voice. “Don’t read anything into it. Like I said, there’s a lot at stake.”

  Henning didn’t respond, he just leaned back and stared straight ahead. Nathan felt for the guy, but knew the extra measures being taken by Lansing and Holly weren’t a reflection on Henning’s competence or loyalty. Although Nathan wasn’t familiar with FBI methods of operation, he figured it was probably standard procedure to double up on field assets whenever possible to ensure the best chance of success. Even though he preferred working alone, he’d play along for now. The FBI Lear was too big an asset to turn down. He figured having a federal ball and chain in the form of Bruce Henning was the price of admission, but he couldn’t in all honesty discount the help he’d received from Henning so far. If the time came to cut ties with his FBI friends, so be it, but for now, he was comfortable with the status quo.

  The Lear touched down in Fresno a little after noon, local time. As it taxied to the general aviation transient parking area, Nathan admired the F-16C Falcons parked next to the Air National Guard hangar. They were beautiful machines, pure in form and function. Although he couldn’t imagine it, he wondered if flying them ever got old.

  After Jenkins parked the Lear, Nathan spotted a man standing next to a plain sedan in front of a long hangar building. Their FBI contact. He was reasonably sure the agent assigned to them would’ve been briefed on their objective and the rules of engagement. He had no expectations about the agent’s attitude, but hoped it wouldn’t be a repeat of a few nights ago when he’d first met Bruce Henning. Because the director of the FBI had given him the use of a Lear, he hoped this new agent would show some discretion. Nathan had to admit there was a definite feeling of importance associated with traveling by Lear. He could get used to this.

  As the Lear’s engines wound down to idle, First Officer Williamson appeared and opened the fuselage door and they said their good-byes. Unlike Fort Leavenworth, the air was dry. A bright afternoon greeted Nathan as he followed Henning onto the tarmac. Several dozen private planes were parked to their right.