by Peggy Bird
Tony shook his head. “So, what do we do? All I can come up with is tearing Jameson’s and Nixon’s bags apart. Literally. Maybe something’s hidden there.”
“That’s all I can come up with, too,” Sam said. “Can you get the Philly police or the feds to take Jameson’s bag apart while we do hers?”
“Yeah, I’ll do it now,” Tony said and left the meeting to make the call.
“Danny, call the Redmond PD and ask them again what they found in Nixon’s place. Maybe we overlooked something there.”
“What can I do, Sam?” Margo asked.
“Answer Viktor’s email. Stall him. Get us more time. Otherwise, you’re going out to Beaverton with nothing to offer except your charm and those black eyes you’re sporting.”
Back in her office, Margo responded to Viktor’s email. After a few negotiations that made her feel quite proud of herself, Viktor gave her one extra day. She emailed Sam about the extra day, omitting the other negotiations.
Chapter 19
“When do we leave for court?” Tony asked. Kiki had been giving him her schedule every day, much to Margo’s annoyance, and he’d announced first thing that morning he’d be going with her down to the courtroom.
“I leave in a few minutes. You’re staying here. Sam didn’t mean for you to follow me every place. He just said you’re here as security.” She slammed her laptop closed, shoved it into her messenger bag and crammed papers in on top.
“What the hell did you think he meant? I’m going with you.”
She slung the messenger bag over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to protect me, not order me around.”
“Protecting you means you do what I say.”
“Oh yeah?” She was tired of being followed, babied, protected. Particularly by him. “Suppose I don’t want to do what you say?”
He stood directly in front of her, his hands balled into fists, which he kept clenching while he talked. “Jesus, Keyes, you’re so predictable. You’d argue about anything, wouldn’t you, just for the sport of it. Don’t you get it? This isn’t a sport. If you don’t care about your own safety, I do. My ass is on the line here if something happens to you.”
The steam went out of her anger as she tried to control the twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“You find that amusing, do you?”
“I just had a sudden image of your local fan club members with pitchforks and torches coming after me if I was responsible for anything happening to your a … to you.” She turned for the door. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Want to come in with me? I think your groupies meet there to talk about you. Maybe they’ll help you get me under control.”
He muttered something about driving the Dalai Lama to violence and let her walk in front of him out of her office.
Tony took a seat toward the back of the sparsely populated courtroom. Sitting on the defense side were three people who, from the way they talked to the defendant, knew him. There was a fifty-ish man and woman, the defendant’s parents, she assumed.
Paul Dreier, the third person, was in close conversation with the father, who looked familiar, although she didn’t know why. She wasn’t sure why Paul was there. He was no criminal lawyer. But it did go a long way toward explaining some of his recent comments and suggestions as well as his interest in the case when he was in her office recently.
Gene Orlov, the young man on trial, sat slumped in his chair, pulling at the necktie he was wearing and listening to his lawyer talk to his parents. He’d been very cocky when she’d met with him and his lawyer early on, insisting on going to trial for the armed robbery of a credit union rather than taking a plea bargain. He swore he was innocent. It was a coincidence that the woman who was beaten was a teller who had repeatedly refused to go out with him and had filed a restraining order against him. A coincidence that he had a gun just like the one used in the holdup. And his car, which had been seen leaving the scene, had been stolen from him the morning of the robbery.
But recently the police had turned up a witness. A woman at the ATM outside the credit union had seen the face of the robber before he’d pulled down his ski mask and had immediately picked him out of a photo lineup. She’d been out of the country for two months and had only just realized what she’d seen.
The defendant was considerably less cocky this morning.
The proceedings started on time, the judge being one of Margo’s favorites for exactly that reason. After Margo got the police testimony and the circumstantial evidence on the record, she was ready to call the eyewitness to the stand when the judge recessed for lunch.
As she was gathering up her papers and getting ready to leave, the defense attorney came over to the prosecutor’s table and asked to talk to Margo in private. He had walked to the brink but had finally decided to deal. We’re done here, she thought, with some satisfaction.
On the way out of the courtroom, she ran into Dreier. “Paul, what are you doing here? This is out of your bailiwick, isn’t it?”
“The kid is. His father isn’t. I gather the kid’s attorney is willing to deal. Are you going for a stiff sentence?”
“I’m about to see what his attorney’s asking for. You got something you want to add to the discussion?”
“Just that his father is a prominent man in the community and would be willing to take on some responsibility for his son if you’ll go easy on him. And he’d be in your debt if you would do that. He’s the kind of person you would rather have working for you than against you, particularly given what you’re involved in.”
“Not sure what that means. But thanks for the advice.”
“It’s more than advice, Margo. It’s a strong suggestion. You might be in over your head, here. Be careful.”
“Paul, I have to get to my meeting with the defense counsel. I appreciate your interest but I think I can handle this on my own.”
She watched Dreier go down the hall toward the older man, the father, who was waiting at the end of the hall. He’d apparently been staring at her the whole time she talked with Dreier. Even at a distance, the way he was looking at her made her uncomfortable. She was glad to get away from his stare and into the conference with his son’s attorney.
By the time she had worked out the deal with the defense attorney and his client had accepted, it was late afternoon. Tony was waiting outside the door of the room where she’d been meeting with the defense attorney.
She strode past him, ran the steps to her floor and went into her office with him following close behind. Dropping her bag on the desk with a thump, she said, “I suppose you think I should be grateful you let me negotiate with defense counsel without you sitting there.”
“You got out of the courtroom before I could get to you, or I would have been. At least I knew where you were and who was with you.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, surely you have something better to do than babysit me.”
“There’re a hell of a lot of other things I could be doing, some of them even more challenging, all of them more interesting, but keeping you alive and breathing is at the top of the ‘to do’ list I’ve been given. I don’t like this gig any more than you do, sweetheart. But I’m stuck with it. So are you.” He went to the door. “We have a meeting at Central Precinct in an hour. Danny’ll walk you back to the hotel after that.”
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes, Tony. Anything you say, Tony.”
“Damn right, anything I say. Glad to see you’re finally getting the message.”
• • •
The full team was at the meeting — Jeff, the Portland Police Bureau contingent, the FBI, the two other cops from Long Beach and Seattle. But increasing the number of people involved in the conversation hadn’t gotten them anywhere. They reviewed the results from the two crime labs taking Jameson’s and Nixon’s briefcases apart. Nothing. The Redmond, Washington police had gone back to Nixon’s home and searched it again. They’d done the same at Jameson’s house. Experts had searched the
computers of both victims twice. Nil. Nada. Bupkis.
Sam had scrubbed his hand over his face in frustration so many times while the information was being presented, Margo was sure he had abraded the surface layer of his skin.
Jeff Wyatt, who was running the meeting, said, “We have exactly forty-eight hours to come up with what he wants or we’re sending Margo to Beaverton with nothing. And we can’t cancel. That runs the risk he hunts her down. Either way … ” He didn’t finish the sentence but everyone in the room knew what he meant.
Danny said, “How did Viktor know that what he wanted wasn’t on the flash drive?”
“Yeah, I keep coming back to that, too, Danny,” Sam said. “He only saw it. He didn’t have to pull it up on a computer. So how did he know it wasn’t what he had bought?”
“Have we run the information on those two programs by our Microsoft contact?” Tony asked.
“What’s that have to do with it?” Wyatt asked.
“Have we?” Tony persisted.
“I told them what was on the flash drive and they confirmed that both Jameson and Nixon had access to the programs and the information’s worth a bundle,” Danny answered.
“No, I mean, have we downloaded and emailed what’s on that flash drive to them?” Tony asked.
Sam frowned. “What would that accomplish?”
“I’m no computer genius, but I’m wondering if a flash drive with that capacity could really hold all the programming it would take to create a new body-sensitive game and a new version of Microsoft Office with all the bells and whistles.”
“But we know that’s what’s on that flash drive,” one of the FBI agents said.
“No, we know there are two files on there with those labels,” Tony said, “and we’ve looked at some of it. But do we know it’s the whole program?”
“What are you suggesting?” Jeff Wyatt asked.
“The Genentec scientist in Long Beach — he said something about Viktor demanding a sample of what was for sale before he’d agree to a price. Could that be what Jameson had on the flash drive?”
“Christ,” Sam said. “That would explain it. Viktor had already seen the sample. He was expecting the rest of it. Danny, call that guy at Microsoft. Tell him Tony’s theory. See what he says.”
Twenty minutes later, Danny returned. “Tony was right. I sent him what we have and he says it’s just a portion of the program. We’re looking for something more like a couple high capacity external hard drives.”
“There was nothing like that in either briefcase,” Tony said.
“And nothing like that when they searched Nixon and Jameson’s houses. We specifically asked them to look for discs and drives,” Sam said.
“That leaves … what?” Margo asked. “Where else would they stash it? What would they consider a safe place?”
“A safe place. That’s it.” Sam said, “Keys.”
“What’s it, Sam?” Margo asked. “What did I say?”
“Not Margo Keyes. The ring of keys in Nixon’s bag. Wasn’t there a small key? One that could be for a safe deposit box? Danny, would you … ?” But his partner had already disappeared to retrieve the ring of keys.
A few phone calls and they’d found the bank where Jameson had rented a safe deposit box a month earlier. After the Redmond police got a court order, the box was opened. Two high capacity hard drives were inside.
They had Viktor’s “merchandise.”
• • •
On Thursday, shadowed by her bodyguard, Margo made the trek across the park to Central Precinct for a final run-through before her rendezvous with Viktor. She was dreading it. She had racked her brain trying to find a way to make her back-channel negotiations with Viktor sound like anything other than what they were — a secret she’d kept from Sam and the team. She’d been unable to come up with anything that sounded reasonable, even to her.
Now she was out of time. She had to tell them. It was only one change but it would make Sam angry. And God knows what Tony would say when he found out.
She was relieved to see that the meeting was only the operational team — Danny, Sam and Tony. At least if she was going to have her head ripped off, it wouldn’t be in front of the feds. As soon as they all sat down, she took a deep breath and jumped in. “Sam, I’m going to make a slight revision to the plan.”
“We’re past the point of making changes, Margo,” Sam said.
“Not much choice, I’m afraid. I made a deal with Viktor … ”
Sam’s eyes narrowed and he spit words at her like bullets. “What the fuck? What deal?”
“When I told him I needed more time he threatened me, told me I was playing a dangerous game … ”
Sam brushed her words away with an impatient gesture. “I know that. Get to what I don’t know.”
“He kept pushing about why I hadn’t brought the real merchandise to Blue Lake. Why I wasn’t living at home. Why someone was suddenly with me all the time. I said I didn’t bring the hard drives with me because I’d lied to you about them. I wanted the money so I let you think the flash drive was what he wanted. And I told him the police moved me after Blue Lake because my boss insisted.” She paused for a few heartbeats. “Then, I gave him Tony.”
“You WHAT?” Sam said.
“I told him Tony was a cop. Said he was the one who’d seen the email and made the deal because he didn’t want me going to Blue Lake alone. Viktor said he knew that.”
“You’re saying that to give yourself cover,” Sam said.
“No, I swear. His exact words were that he was pleased to see I was finally being honest. He said that made him more confident that he could trust me.”
“Bullshit,” Tony said. “You’re just … ”
“I thought I was pulling it out of thin air but … ”
“More like out of your ass … ” Sam said.
“But,” she talked over his comment, “he already knew. So, I have to go in alone tomorrow. I’ll wear a wire. You can hear the whole thing and come get me out if you need to. I can guarantee you, though, if Tony’s with me, the least that will happen is we lose Viktor. At worst … well, let’s just say it won’t be a good outcome for me and maybe not for Tony, either.”
“Christ, Margo, this is really fucked up,” Sam said.
“Wait just one damn minute. When Tony negotiated with him without talking to you, he was doing a great job. I negotiate with him and I’m a fuck-up?”
“Let’s start with the fact that Tony told me about it as soon as it happened. And he’s a cop. He knows what he’s doing.”
“So, am I to understand that you’d trust a cop you’d just met over someone you’ve worked with for years? Is it because he’s a cop or is it because he’s a man and I’m neither?” She snapped her fingers. “Damn. Of course, it must be because I don’t know how to negotiate. I never do it. Oh, wait, every now and then I do negotiate about minor stuff. You know, the death penalty or life in prison. But I guess that doesn’t count as much as emailing a mobster about an imaginary deal. In your world.”
“Jesus, Margo, you are … ” Tony started.
“For Christ’s sake, you can’t think … ” Sam said, his voice getting louder with every word.
“Hold it, you three,” Danny stood up and held out her hands, like a school crossing guard stopping traffic. “Do I have to send you to neutral corners?”
Sam muttered something that sounded like an apology.
Tony glared at her. Margo refused to look at either of them.
“Now,” Danny said as she sat down, “let’s get back to tomorrow. Margo, you did good getting him to accept that you’ve still gone to the dark side.”
“You shouldn’t have kept it from us,” Sam said.
Danny continued to talk only to Margo. “Given the reactions we just saw, I understand why you hesitated to tell these two. Although you did cut it a bit close. Luckily, it doesn’t change the plan that much. We’ll have you wired, you’ll have your cell phone on so we can
trace that and the package with the hard drives will have a GPS on it. Once you’re out, we take him down.” She leaned across the table toward Margo. “Are you sure Viktor bought what you told him?”
Throwing Danny a grateful look, Margo said, “As sure as I can be. It was all done through email so I couldn’t read his face but he backed off the threats after I gave him the explanation. Even said at one point my father would have been proud of me.”
Margo sat back in her chair and kept her mouth shut for the rest of the discussion as the three detectives went over what they’d be doing now that Tony was with them and not with Margo. She didn’t look at him, knowing more would come when they got back to her office.
It didn’t take long. The door to her office had barely clicked shut when he lit into her.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, have you lost your fucking mind, Keyes? You cannot go waltzing into that grocery store alone for a little chat with a killer.”
She walked to her desk and sat down. “Who do you think I chat with on a regular basis, Tony, the Ladies’ Altar Guild? And can we keep our voices down? We’ve provided enough entertainment for my office this week.”
“Don’t change the subject.” But he lowered his voice. “The perps you talk to may be bad guys but they’re bad guys who got caught, cleaned up and have a lawyer.” He paced back and forth in front of her desk. “What in God’s name made you think I’d agree to let you do this?”
“I don’t remember giving you the authority to let me do anything. It’s my life. I make the decisions about it.”
Tony stopped and faced her across her desk. “What’s this really about, Margo? Has playing with the big boys gone to your head?”
His words felt like a slap across the face. “Playing with the big boys? What the fuck? Who do you think you are to talk to me that way? That’s the most arrogant, outrageous … ”
He held up his hands and took a step back as if to fend off her anger. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That was a bad choice of words.”
“That’s what you think it is? A bad choice of words? That doesn’t come close to describing what … ”