by Bob Blink
"Aren't you going to be in trouble letting us go?" Steph asked.
"No one should know I have you at the moment, and I have no intention telling them just yet. We both know neither of us killed Duke, so the question is, who did it? Also, I can't help wondering if I owe you my life. Had I been at home instead of your captive, would I have been hit just like Duke, perhaps with the killing Woodsman to be found in my hand, my own taken in exchange. Someone might want to eliminate us because they are concerned about what we have learned. But who and what?"
"I think you had best be very careful," Jessie said. "For our sake as well as yours."
Burrows nodded.
"I'll be in touch. Let me head out first, then you make your plans and find some place to hole up until I get back to you."
Chapter 23
As he drove, Tom tried to play back the conversation with Sully in his mind, but his thoughts kept turning to the shock of his partner's death. Duke gone. It seemed impossible. The man had seemed an unstoppable force. He felt a sense of loss he wouldn't have expected. They'd been a great team, but not really that close as friends. Images of the past years kept intruding into his thoughts as he recalled the different cases they had worked together. A part of him couldn't yet accept that it might be real. It was only Sully's words that marked Duke's passing, which didn't make it entirely real, but another deeper part of him knew that it must be so. He also carried a deep foreboding that the loss was going to have serious implications for himself, and soon.
His thoughts swirled in a recurring cycle, preventing him from any constructive thought. He tried to link what Sully had told him to something that would make sense, but the best he could do was conclude that Duke's death was somehow related to the four fugitives that had held him captive the night before. While he and Duke had enemies from past cases, any grudge attack from those that might actually make such a move would have been made long before. Could the group have deceived him? He didn't believe that to be the case. None of the four could have committed the act, but two were unaccounted for. He had no proof that Jerry Marshall had somehow been vaporized by Monica Parker before Mark Wilson had shot her, and Bud Johnson remained an anomaly that bothered him. Tom couldn't help wondering where he'd been early this morning.
As he approached the outskirts of Washington, Tom turned toward the cheap bar where he'd arrested Mark the evening before. He'd ditch this car on one of the nearby streets, leaving the key in it, knowing it would disappear never to been seen again. His own vehicle was parked in a secure parking structure a couple of blocks away. He would walk there, recover the vehicle and drive somewhere he could change back into his normal clothes before continuing on to Duke's place, another twenty-minute drive from this area.
A cluster of official vehicles marked the location of Duke's residence. One still had its flashing bubble gum lights going, but the rest were crowded inert in the driveway and on the grass of the aging residence. Now that he was here, Tom was able to focus more insightfully on Sully. The agent was a bit of a jerk, and had been jealous of Tom's advancement since he'd come to D.C. Despite the choice of weapon that Sully had pointed out, he had to know that Tom couldn't have had anything to do with Duke Harmon's murder, but if someone was making any attempt to make it look that way, Sully would relish the opportunity to make Tom look bad, even if only temporarily. What Sully's comments had done, was give Tom an advance insight into what the killing had to be about. In his mind, he and Duke had apparently poked too close to something important, making someone nervous enough to remove the older agent. Once again, Tom felt a tingle of realization that he might have been an intended target this night as well. He could imagine a scene where he was found with a Colt Woodsman in hand, apparently dead by his own hand, a suicide after killing his partner. It would be interesting to see if there was any false evidence to suggest he might be linked to the fugitives. It was ironic, given the fact he'd released them not too long ago.
"Wondered if you weren't really coming," Sully said when Tom made his way into the interior of Duke's home, cleared by the duty police who guarded the entrance.
Sully was middle aged, with a bit of a paunch and graying hair. His blue eyes were hard, and while Sully wasn't the smartest agent in the Bureau, he made up for that in determination, sometimes going a bit beyond official guidelines in his pursuance of a case, a trait that had limited his advancement.
"Traffic was worse than I anticipated," Tom replied, staring down the other. Traffic was always a good excuse for missing an agreed to time. Traffic was always bad and unpredictable in D.C.
"You were out early," Sully noted. "And not answering your phone."
"I was following a lead that we turned up. Turned out to be nothing. Forgot to charge my phone last night, and didn't realize it had gone dead. Put it on the charger. Wasn't anticipating any calls this early. Is this where you found Duke?" Tom added, wanting to get off the subject.
They were in the bedroom converted to an office that Duke had set up in the back of the house. The body had already been removed, which Tom was glad of. He'd seen enough bodies, and didn't want to see that of someone he'd worked with daily. His imagination was vivid enough he could guess what Duke had looked like. As it was, there was no blood, and other than the pushed around furniture, no indication that a death had taken place here a few hours earlier.
"Yeah, he was dead in the chair," Sully said.
"How did you come to find him?" Tom asked.
"Kurt found him," Sully explained.
That made sense. Kurt was a retired agent, fifteen years Duke's senior, who had shown Harmon the ropes when he'd first joined the Bureau. They often had an early breakfast together, especially when Duke wanted to talk over a confusing case with someone.
"Apparently Duke hadn't been dead very long. But there was no sign of the shooter anywhere."
"You said he was shot with a Colt Woodsman?" Tom asked.
Sully smiled his crooked grin.
"Well, that might be a bit premature. It was a .22, with low velocity target loads. The guys at the lab are still looking, but the preliminary feedback said an older Colt."
"That's pretty fast turn around, given the time of day," Tom noted.
"Well, the lab boys were in anyway working something for the Director, and since Duke was one of ours, they were willing to have a quick look."
"So why'd you tell me it was a Woodsman?"
Sully smirked again.
"Wanted to get your reaction. You were off and unreachable, and people said you and Duke were shouting yesterday."
"Duke always discussed everything loudly, you know that," Tom replied. "Especially when you didn't agree with his theory."
"So you weren't fighting? Just business as usual? You two are working the case where the Senator's aide got killed, aren't you? Some weird stuff going on there, and you lost a prisoner. Do you think his death is tied to that case? Did one of those wanted for Chou's killing come after Duke for some reason?"
Sully's question revealed he knew exactly what Tom and Duke were working on.
"I can't see that having happened," he replied.
"Well, they have killed a couple now, and from what I've been told, Duke and you don't have anything else active at the moment. Oh, and I'd still like to have a look at the gun of yours," Sully said. "Just to be completely thorough."
"I'll bring it in later. Just be careful with it. That's my competition gun, and I don't want it screwed up. You know damn well I didn't shoot Duke."
"No worries," Sully said. "The lab is very careful with evidence."
Tom was about to comment on the way Sully was handling the shooting, when another agent poked his head in.
"I'll be right back," Sully said. "I have a few more questions on this lead you were chasing down so early in the morning."
Sully hurried out of the office with the other agent, leaving Tom momentarily alone. He looked around the familiar little office where he and Duke had discussed many a case over the
past five years. What had Duke found, he wondered? On a whim, he stood and walked over to a section of paneling. It wasn't obvious, but there was a safe hidden behind that section of wall. Duke had shown it to him, and given him the combination. It was where Duke had kept notes and bits of evidence on cases he was working. If he'd found something of importance, that's where he'd have stored it.
Pushing the release that caused the panel to pop open, Tom quickly punched the combination into the electronic lock, the date Duke joined the FBI. There was only a single document inside. When he pulled it out he saw it was a printout of an autopsy. He spotted Pam Chou's name, and wondered why Duke would have printed this. It would be available on line any time he wished to review it, which suggested something unusual had caught his attention. Hearing Sully returning, something caused him to slip the documents into his jacket pocket rather than pass them to the other agent, and close the safe, pushing the concealing panel back into place. Maybe Sully's team would find it and maybe not. Either way, it would be empty if they did.
"I've got to head into the office," Sully said. "We can talk further when you bring in that Woodsman."
"Suits me," Tom said. "I have to run home and change anyway. I'll get the gun from my safe and stop by in a couple of hours."
As Sully headed off, Tom looked around the office as if it might reveal what had happened to his partner. He was trying to think what he wanted to tell Sully when they talked. The truth, or as close to it would be best. But if he told him about the four fugitives who had kidnapped him, he'd also have to reveal he'd set them loose. That wouldn't go over well within the Bureau. It almost certainly would get him removed from the case if not put on suspension or fired. Similarly, he could mention the cabin and claim a report they had been seen in the area, but any real look at the place would most likely show his DNA in the place and that he'd spent some time there. More questions he wasn't ready to answer. He needed to understand what had happened to Duke, and set it up so the four fugitives could safely turn themselves in. He had an unexplained feeling that it would be risky for them to do so just yet. Sully was clearly looking for a way to tie Duke's shooting to the group.
Tom knew there would be little he could do to deflect Sully's suspicions. It was Sully's case. Tom wouldn't be working it. He was officially too personally involved to investigate his partner's death. It was unclear what his role would be on the Chou case. The Director might decide to take him off and assign another team of agents. The results he and Duke had turned up so far hadn't been impressive, and the success by bringing in the four suspects he'd envisioned was now lost. He'd push to stay on the case, as he was certain what people believed about what was happening, was wide of the mark.
Sighing, he stood and headed out of the office, heading back outside to his car. He'd go home, shower, and head into the office and see what else he could learn. He knew Sully wouldn't be sharing much of what he discovered, so he'd have to turn to others if he hoped to find out any important details.
Arriving home, he pulled into the driveway, stopping just short of the garage. He'd considered coming here before going to Duke's but he hadn't been certain that Sully wouldn't be watching the place. Sully clearly didn't think Duke's death was Tom's fault, but he suspected something was up, and might have hedged a bet to see what Tom was doing. It also would have meant an additional delay, and that wouldn't have been wise.
Inside the house, he stripped off his clothes and stepped into a hot shower. It didn't take long, but the brief indulgence helped clear his mind. He'd best be sharp because he'd almost certainly be talking to senior agents today. Maybe even the Senior Agent in Charge. He'd lost a partner, and that meant they'd have to decide what immediate actions to take.
He put on a clean suit, grabbed a couple of toaster waffles which he heated and ate without garnishing, washing them down with a tall cool glass of apple juice. Setting down the glass he headed into his study where he kept his gun safe. On the way he recalled the documents he'd taken from Duke's little hidden safe and returned to the bedroom to retrieve them from his two-day old suit.
He scanned them as he headed back into the study. He stopped when he spotted the entry Duke had circled. Pam had had an unusual swelling or partial extra lobe near the base of her brain. The document didn't speculate as to the cause, simply noting the anomaly. Whatever it was, it wasn't something temporary that might have resulted from a blow or the like. Surprised to discover there were additional pages, Tom discovered that he actually had two sets of autopsy papers. The second set was for Monica Parker. Sensing what he might find, he turned to the last section where another note, circled and very similar in content was found. Monica had had that same unusual swelling. Tom felt a chill upon reading the Medical Examiner's note.
This could very well be what Duke had found and the reason he'd printed the hard copy. Tom made a mental note to review the online reports and see if there was anything more, perhaps some speculation by the M.E. as to what the nodes might be. For now he stepped up to the large five-foot tall, three foot wide gun safe and worked the combination. Once open, he shoved the autopsy reports in a corner, and pulled out the padded plastic case in which he stored the treasured Woodsman. Even though he never put it away loaded, he opened the case, checked the weapon, then removed the three spare magazines in the case that were loaded and set them in the safe. He was about to close the case when he reconsidered, and retrieved one of the three magazines and returned it to the case. It would be informative to see if the ammunition that was used to kill Duke was the same as he used for competition shooting.
There was no difficulty entering the facility carrying the weapon. As a Federal Agent, he had a loaded Glock on his hip, so the cased .22 was nothing that raised a concern.
"I'm sorry to hear about Mr. Harmon," the guard said as he passed Tom Burrows through the checkpoint.
So the word had already spread, Tom thought. He would be receiving many such comments as the day passed. Loss of a partner was considered almost equivalent to the loss of a spouse, even though his partnership with the elder agent had only lasted short of half a dozen years.
"Thanks, Bill," Tom replied, calling the uniformed officer by name. He'd come to know all of those who worked security here in the facility since being assigned the J. Edgar Hoover Building here in the nation's capitol.
More offered their thoughts on Duke's passing as he made his way to his office. After a quick check to see who might be seeking him, and noting he had a late morning meeting with the Executive Assistant Director for Criminal Investigations, his boss within the greater FBI organization. He picked up the pistol case and headed across the floor to Agent Sully's office. The man wasn't present, so Tom left the case with his secretary, explaining what it was.
Returning to his office, he fielded more than a dozen comments from fellow agents. Back at his desk he logged into his computer and read through the morning reports and all information on the search for the four fugitives. No progress had been made in locating their whereabouts, and he felt a momentary sense of failing his responsibility. He was very aware of the treacherous path he was on, but somehow sensed it was the right approach.
Next, he searched out the autopsy reports for the two women in his case. No one would be surprised by this if they were monitoring his computer activity, something he knew the agency was very capable of doing. It was his case, and a thorough agent would always checks such details, even when the cause of death was obvious in both cases.
It didn't take long to realize there was a discrepancy between what he was now seeing, and what had been so carefully marked in Duke's hard copies of the reports. Neither electronic document addressed the unusual nodules found on the brains of the two women. He wondered if that would have been the case if not for the fact each woman was autopsied by a different M.E. Tom searched the history of both documents and found that only the M.E. initial submittal was shown, suggesting this was the original document, and that no updates or changes had been made.
He felt a chill. The document clearly was not the complete report, and the M.E. wouldn't have filed anything less. That suggested it had been changed, but who could do that, and do it in such a manner that no trace was left of the modification. He would have said such an action was impossible. The obvious question was why had it been altered.
It was the kind of change that would almost certainly go unnoticed. The women had died in obvious ways, and anyone looking would see the M.E. had indicated a cause of death consistent with one would expect to find. Tom would have been fully satisfied had it not been for the printouts that Duke had placed hidden in his safe. The M.E. would be the only person who would note the difference, but as busy as he was, once the papers had been filed, he would have no reason to look back at them. If he wished to check anything, he had his own original files. Tom had originally thought he might have a chat with the M.E., but now he wondered if that might trigger some interest he should be cautious about. Until he knew more, that was a conversation that should be delayed. Duke's murder and now alteration of internal FBI documents suggested something very unusual and insidious must be at work. He felt suddenly vulnerable, and more certain than ever that Duke might not have been the only target the night before. Whoever had killed Duke was likely the same person who had been behind the alteration of the autopsies. He'd have liked to have a look in Duke's office, but Sully's team would have sealed that now, and any attempt to gain access would generate far too much interest. Back in his office, he retrieved the small Kimber Solo, a backup weapon he seldom carried, and strapped the special ankle holster in place.
He spent the morning pursuing details on the case, guided by the long discussion he'd had in the cabin the night before. He tried to call both Jerry Marshall and Bud Johnson in their offices. Marshall hadn't reported to work that day, nor had he called in, which was consistent with something having happened to him. Even more intriguing, Bud Johnson hadn't been in for two days, and also hadn't contacted his office about his absence. Tom had a strange feeling neither man was going to be seen again, and wondered if it would be wise to have the New York police put Johnson on their watch list.