by G. K. Parks
“But you made me agree to no long-term deep cover gigs when you came back to the OIO. You said you didn’t want to leave Marty.”
“Things change. Martin and I broke up.”
Suddenly, Mark sounded much more awake. “Shit.” The phone got shuffled around for a few moments. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”
“Just give me the assignment.”
“Pack a bag. The plane leaves at ten a.m.”
Hanging up, I looked around my apartment. I hadn’t thought this through. I just knew I needed to escape. I needed an out, and fortuitously, this opportunity happened to present itself in the nick of time. Opening my fridge, I stared inside at the contents for what felt like hours. Eventually, movement returned, and I chucked the leftovers into the trashcan. Then I boxed up whatever was in my pantry. The unopened items could be delivered to a local soup kitchen, and the rest met the same fate as the perishables.
Next, I packed a few bags with clothing and gear. I didn’t even know in what capacity the DEA expected assistance. It could be anything from analyst to a secondary undercover operative. I might as well prepare for all contingencies.
After filling two large suitcases, I looked around the room. The sparkle of the diamond caught my eye, and I slammed the lid down. “Dammit.” I threw the velvet box across the room and into the wall. Truth be told, I wasn’t mad at Martin. I was mad at myself.
“You fuck everything up,” I growled, catching my reflection in the mirror. “You don’t deserve him. You don’t even deserve to be walking around free.” Maybe I would have been better off letting some crime boss kill me. Perhaps that would have led to enough evidence to finally put him behind bars. Instead, I took matters into my own hands and put him and his cronies six feet under. There was no coming back from that, and my relationship with Martin had become collateral damage.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I stared at the crumpled blankets on my bed. My room was a crime scene. It had been the location of the slaughter of the only decent romantic relationship I’d ever had. And I couldn’t even deal with it. The walls were closing in, and I felt dizzy. Taking my bags, I went into the living room, collapsed on the couch, and didn’t move again until Mark knocked on my door the next morning.
Five
“Are you sure about this?” Mark asked for what felt like the millionth time.
I nodded, too drained to answer. I’d spent the early morning filling out paperwork in the office and getting copies of the recent developments concerning the operation and the dead woman to take along for light reading on the plane. In five hours, I’d be three thousand miles away from my home and my problems. Whoever said you couldn’t run away was an idiot.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Mark asked.
“Are you insane? I’m not a five-year-old heading off to my first day of kindergarten.”
“No, but you’re whoring yourself out to the DEA. Those guys are cowboys. They have a reputation for reckless behavior and going a little too dark, if you know what I mean.”
“One, there will be no whoring, and two, don’t you think I’ve gone a bit dark lately also?”
“That’s not reassuring me.” Jablonsky pulled into the parking garage at the airport, found a reserved space, and cut the engine. “If Lucca wasn’t reassigned, would you still be volunteering for this?”
Staring out the windshield, I imagined a lot of things would have been different if Lucca wasn’t leaving. None of last night would have happened. I would have continued to be miserable while waiting and hoping for something to change. “It was time to pull the trigger. I couldn’t hide behind a desk forever. I hate that office. I hate being there. And now, I hate this city. I hate my apartment. I hate my life. I hate myself. I just need to be someone else for a while.”
“So you decided to volunteer to UC in order to become Becky Sue with a coke addiction or some shit like that?”
“Something like that.”
“I can’t say that I blame you.” He opened his door and headed for the trunk. He hefted the larger bag over his shoulder. “Do you want me to feed the cat or water the plants while you’re gone?”
“I don’t have a cat or plants, but there’s a box of food to donate on the counter, unless you have a hankering for canned soup and cereal. Other than that, just check my place every once in a while and make sure it’s not flooded or infested. You can clear out the liquor cabinet.”
“I thought I already did that.”
“That was before Martin,” saying his name felt like a punch to the gut, “started keeping some shit on hand. I don’t think it’s even opened. It’s not like he stuck around long enough to drink any of it, so take it.” I sighed, pulling out my credentials and passport while we made our way slowly through the check-in line. “Will you make sure he’s okay?”
Mark nodded solemnly. “Marty’s my friend, but I swear I could break his legs for hurting you like this.”
“Don’t. This wasn’t his fault.” Inhaling again, I didn’t want to ask for another favor, but it needed to be done. “On the floor in my bedroom is a jewelry box. Can you make sure he gets that back? I tried giving it to him last night, but he’s so damn stubborn sometimes.”
“Okay.”
I finished checking my bags, took my ticket, and headed for airport security. Jablonsky followed behind, probably planning to follow me through the checkpoint by flashing his credentials. Standing in the long line, I had an amusing thought.
“Shouldn’t this trip warrant the use of a government jet? Doesn’t the FBI have some Gulfstreams hanging around?”
“We’re being fiscally responsible,” Jablonsky insisted. “I probably could have gotten you a seat on some military aircraft, but you’d be stuck in the back of a cargo hold, clinging to the net and surrounded by recently deployed jarheads. This is a much better alternative.” He glanced around as if someone might be eavesdropping on our conversation. “An agent will meet you when you land. He’ll take you to their command center, and you’ll be officially briefed. After that, call me. I’ll be your unofficial handler. I expect updates weekly, more often if circumstances warrant it. I’ve already made this obvious to the DEA, and they’ve assured me that they have regular check-ins with their undercover operative. I don’t know the logistics or what they’ll expect from you, but I assume you’ll be providing back-up in some capacity.”
“No problem.”
“It better not be. I want you to stay safe out there and keep a clear head. When you land, this shit stays on the plane. You can’t be focused on Marty, Lucca, or your troubles. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He hugged me hard. “I’ll talk to you tonight. Don’t make me regret sending you, or I will fly across the country and kick your ass.”
“I know.”
“You should.” He smiled. “I taught you everything you know. Now get the hell out of here. The sooner you show these cowboys how to work an assignment, the sooner you can get back to doing actual OIO work.” He saw the displeased look on my face. “We have deep cover assignments too, and they don’t involve cult leaders on the US-Mexico border. Now go.”
“I’ll see you around, Mark.” I hugged him one last time before flashing my credentials at the TSA agents and moving through the security checkpoint without as much muss or fuss as the average traveler.
* * *
“Agent Parker,” my escort, DEA agent Matt Eckhardt, called my name, waiting impatiently for my jaw to close, “you’ll get used to it. I take it the FBI doesn’t have any command centers that look like this.”
“None that I’ve seen. Is there a map or signs to point me in the right direction?”
He laughed politely. “You’ll get the hang of this place soon enough. All you need to do is think like a rich, narcissistic drug dealer. Then the layout of the place is easy.”
“Rich and narcissistic shouldn’t be a problem,” I muttered under my breath before following him through the vast compound an
d up a winding staircase. The crystal chandelier hanging over the steps was custom made with each crystal sculpted into an ornate nude. “Who the hell was this guy?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll be behind bars for the rest of his life.” Eckhardt entered a code and pushed through to another secure section of the house. “To your left is our armory in the event we need to conduct a raid or tactical recovery. In the basement, we have a shooting range and gym set up, should you require practice.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
“We’ll let our assistant director determine that.” He tossed an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “Our standards might be a bit different than the OIO’s.” He pointed to a room at the end of the corridor. “We have a fully functional lab and qualified medics on duty twenty-four seven. Mandatory drug testing is required and will continue at regular intervals for the duration of the assignment. Should the assignment require you to use drugs, we prefer advanced notification if at all possible. There’s also paperwork, but I’m sure you’re familiar. The FBI has a similar procedure.”
“Yep.” I jerked my head to a room off the side where loud voices were resonating. “What’s in there?”
“Briefing room.”
“Okay.”
“Moving on,” he ignored the confused look on my face, “if you follow me back this way, I’ll take you to meet the support team. We have some amazing analysts and computer whizzes working for us. They’ll catch you up to speed on our op, and you can update them on the evaluation you conducted concerning Timothy Wilde.”
Eckhardt opened the door, smiling brightly at a woman in the corner of the room. “Hey, Stella.”
“Matt,” she barely nodded in his direction while continuing to type away at the keyboard, “you didn’t include the date and time in your report. The judge nearly tossed out our request for a search warrant. How many times have I told you that details are important? Even now, we have to worry that some shyster defense attorney will have the evidence ruled inadmissible.”
He cleared his throat. “Can’t that wait?” He glanced around at the other three people who hadn’t even acknowledged our presence. “Listen up,” he clapped his hands together, “this is the FBI agent tasked with assisting on the Wilde op. She just arrived, so let’s not scare her off. She might prove useful.” He smirked. “And if she isn’t, then we’ll show her what we’re really like.”
“Fine,” a guy with horn-rimmed glasses said, swiveling around, “let’s hear what she has to say.”
“And while that’s happening, you and I can have a talk,” Stella said, grabbing Eckhardt by the elbow. She nodded to me. “Just think of me as in-house counsel. I keep these guys from breaking the rules. And you, Agent Eckhardt, have been a very bad boy. I need access to your notes and reports. Now.”
Before I could say or do anything, they were gone. Turning, I found three sets of eyes staring at me. “I’m Alex Parker,” I offered lamely.
“Yeah, we know,” Mr. Horn-rimmed said. “I’m Carlo. That’s Ben and Eve.” He turned back to the computer, clicking a few keys and sending a projection of his screen to the large monitor mounted to the wall at the front of the room. “This is our target, Timothy Wilde.”
“I know.” I couldn’t help but return the jab, but Carlo ignored it.
“This is the co-op that he’s been using.” The screen changed to a collage of images. “There are a dozen different permanent structures on the property. We haven’t been able to keep an accurate headcount since someone is always coming or going, which explains how we missed the woman disappearing.” He clicked again, and a blown-up copy of the ME’s report filled half the screen while the other side displayed autopsy photos. “Cause of death was a drug overdose.” He zoomed in on the photograph. “These incisions occurred post-mortem and appear to be surgical in nature. A tiny amount of latex was found in her GI tract.” He turned to me. “Do you know what that means?”
“She was a mule, and one of the balloons ruptured. They probably cut out the rest to save the goods and hide the evidence.”
“See, I told you the FBI isn’t as dumb as you said,” Ben offered from his cubicle.
Eve rolled her eyes. “Agent Parker, have you spoken to Jace yet?”
“Jace?” Who the hell is Jace?
“Obviously not.” She sighed. “Unless he signs off, this is a waste of time.”
“He’s running point on this,” Carlo offered, casting a glance at Ben as if to say, see, the FBI agent is an idiot. “I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say when you see him.” Shaking his head, he pulled up a list of names, each linked with an autopsy photo. “As you can see, this recent death isn’t the first. It’s the sixth overdose. Three have happened since we began our operation, but Agent Decker hasn’t had any contact with these women. They were all reported missing several months before their deaths, and from our surveillance footage, we know that each of them visited the co-op at least once. We’ve searched vehicles, conducted surveillance, but we still don’t know how Wilde finds his recruits or where the drugs are coming from. We aren’t even sure if they are coming in or being sent out. Decker hasn’t found anything on the property, but we’re certain Wilde’s behind it.”
“It doesn’t matter, unless you can prove it,” Stella said, stepping back into the room with Eckhardt behind her. In her arms were several notepads. Eckhardt carried a file box filled to the brim with manila folders. “No judge will issue a sweeping search warrant without probable cause. The deaths have all been miles away from the co-op with no clear connection between the deceased and Wilde. None of them were active members of the church at the time of their deaths. They didn’t establish permanent residency within the co-op or provide a substantial donation, like many of the other followers, so we’re hoping to find another angle to give us grounds to bust in there and get this done. Whatever’s in plain sight or is willingly shared with our operative is fair game, but so far, it hasn’t led to anything substantial.”
“I guess that’s where you come in,” Ben said. “What have you found that I’ve clearly missed?” The analyst was annoyed that I was stepping on his toes, and before we started out on the wrong foot, it was time I performed some damage control.
“Not much. My partner actually received the request, but since he was in the midst of a transfer, I did some digging. Wilde’s record indicates he has a previous history with drug dealing which makes him a likely candidate to still be in the biz. However, aside from that one arrest, his only other offense was an unsubstantiated sexual assault. After that, he fell off the radar. Hell, he was always off the radar. He fell through the cracks in the system. Somehow, he managed to exist on the fringes without drawing attention to himself, but to go from nothing to having enough liquid assets to buy that property,” I stepped closer to Carlo and reached for the mouse, clicking the minimized aerial image of the compound so it filled the screen again, “and the buildings on it, he has to be in bed with someone serious.”
“Or he’s a serious player,” Ben said. “We don’t know what he was doing for over a decade. He could have built an entire network since he wasn’t under any scrutiny. Given that we know he’s been recruiting and possibly kidnapping and brainwashing these women and has at least two dozen followers living at the compound, we can assume he knows how to keep his criminal activity under wraps. None of these supposed like-minded individuals have voiced any complaints. They leave the gates open. On weekends, they sell some artisanal goods as if they are a millennial farmer’s market. It all appears to be on the up and up.”
“And they have permits,” Stella volunteered. “It looks clean. Every move Wilde makes is aboveboard.”
“Are you sure you have the right guy?” I asked, earning a searing gaze from everyone in the room. “Seriously, that was a joke.” I shook my head, feeling as if I were tanking my first impression. “I’m on your side. I wouldn’t have spent the last week researching everything about this guy and his cult if I didn’t be
lieve he was involved in something heinous.” I stepped back, narrowing my eyes at the screen. “Have you investigated shipments going in and out? If there are that many people living on the grounds, they must have to transport certain supplies, especially if they are producing items to sell. Have you checked the shipments they send out?” Every thought that came to mind was coming out of my mouth, even though they were fundamental investigative tactics.
“Yep.” Carlo made the word sound like condescension on steroids.
“This isn’t our first rodeo,” a voice said from behind, and I spun to see who had joined the party. “Agent Parker, please come with me.”
Nodding, I followed the man out into the hallway. He wore a charcoal grey Henley over dark blue jeans. His light brown hair was slicked back, but I didn’t believe the blond highlights or length were regulation. Neither was the light beard that covered his face. His eyes were bright blue, and his skin was perfectly tanned. He looked like a surfer dressed up like commando Ken.
“Jackson Decker,” he extended his hand, and we shook. “Have those knuckleheads been giving you a hard time?”
“I just got here. They were updating me on the situation.”
He smiled. “Sure, they were.” He glanced around the corridor. “Walk with me. We have much to discuss.”
Six
“What were your first impressions of Timothy Wilde?” Decker asked.
“I haven’t met the man.”
“No, but you’ve read his jacket. You’ve researched him, studied him, his church, his beliefs, his followers. What do you think?”
“I think he’s full of shit.” I glanced at Decker from the corner of my eye. “His life started out rough. I don’t imagine it miraculously improved by finding god or religion or whatever, nor do I believe that’s why he decided to start his own church and share it with others.”
“Isn’t that cynical?” Decker smiled, continuing to lead me through the house at a leisurely pace. From the way we meandered through the hallways, I felt confident that he didn’t have a destination in mind. “Have you always been so jaded, or did the job do that to you?”