Lazenby’s jaw dropped.
‘The Post knows about this?’ he asked, genuinely shocked.
‘They called a little while ago to see if we had any comment,’ Martha replied quietly.
‘Well, they didn’t get it from us,’ Lazenby said emphatically. ‘We’ve kept it under wraps. The only person at the Bureau who knows all the facts is my personal assistant, Agent Kelly Smith. I guarantee you there’s been no leak from the Bureau.’
Steve Wade exploded.
‘I don’t give a flying fuck where the leak came from. The fact is it happened. You’ve known about this all along. Why wasn’t I consulted?’
Ted Lazenby stared at the President for some moments. Shocked as he was, he knew instinctively that the time had come to assert himself.
‘Consulted? With all due respect, Mr. President, this is a criminal investigation. I don’t know why I would consult with the White House about it. I came here today to inform you of certain facts as a matter of courtesy. But that’s as far as I can go. This is not a consultation. I’m sure you understand that.’
The President suddenly picked up an ornamental paper-weight and slammed it down violently on the top of the desk. Ted Lazenby took a deep breath.
‘I don’t expect you to like this, Mr. President, but there is one further fact that I should bring to your attention. There may be nothing in it. We’re checking it out right now.’
The Director felt every eye in the room fasten on him.
‘The Benoni woman lived in New York. The D.C. Police had NYPD check out her apartment, and among other things, they found an address book.’
‘So?’
‘In this address book, there are two things of interest. The first was the name of Hamid Marfrela.’
‘Who?’
Ellen Trevathan gave a deep sigh.
‘He is the Lebanese diplomat suspected of being involved with those fascists in Oregon. Director Lazenby told us about him just a few days ago. Am I right, Mr. Director?’
‘As always, Madam Vice President.’
Steve Wade was thunderstruck. He collapsed heavily into a chair.
‘Well, what does that mean?’
‘We don’t know as yet, Mr. President. It may mean nothing at all. As I said, we’re looking into it now.’
‘What was the second thing?’ Ellen asked.
‘Mr. President, the other thing they found in Lucia Benoni’s address book was the number of your private telephone line here at the White House.’
14
THE VAN WAS large, black, and nondescript. It had no windows. The radio and telephonic aerials were discreetly hidden away at the rear. The only occupant of the van, barely visible through the smoky windshield, was the driver, a casually-dressed man in his early thirties. Finding no empty parking space close enough to the building, the driver double-parked right in front of it without a second thought. His instructions were to get as close as he could. He would have preferred to be less conspicuous, but the rest of the team had to be able to leave the van without attracting attention. The van carried plates which would discourage the police from asking him to move, and the driver had a plan available to deal with any member of the public who might challenge him before a parking space opened up. He put the transmission in park, and turned towards the back of the vehicle, where the other occupants were sitting in silence, too close together for comfort.
‘OK, folks, here we are, chez Hamid,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It looks pretty quiet out there. I’m not seeing anything to worry about. But I’ll keep her running until you either come on back out or tell me you don’t need it.’
‘Thanks, Ed,’ Kelly said, getting to her feet. ‘OK, jackets on gentlemen, and remember, we’re going to do this by the book. Let’s not forget our suspect is armed and dangerous. Remember the drill, and be careful.’
One of the five male agents who had been sitting with her inserted a new magazine into his Glock and tested the action.
‘Piece of cake.’
Kelly turned to help Jeff Morris into the black jacket she had brought for him. It had the initials FBI emblazoned on it in gold letters, back and front. All seven team members had donned bullet-proof vests before setting out from Headquarters, and an impressive array of weapons lay at their feet on the floor of the van.
‘Put this on. We’re making you an honorary FBI special agent for the day.’
‘Great,’ Jeff said. ‘A man needs a hobby.’
Kelly swung a fake punch to his jaw.
‘Wise guy. Everyone ready?’
The agents nodded. Kelly opened the back door of the van, and briefly surveyed the scene on the street. As Ed had said, it seemed quiet. But the last thing she wanted on this mission was to draw attention to it, so she took one more long look around. Once she was satisfied, Kelly led the way at a brisk pace to the door of the apartment building in which, at least according to Lucia Benoni, Hamid Marfrela resided. Three of the agents carried sub-machine guns. They would lead the way into the apartment and take the lead in dealing with any resistance. Kelly, Jeff, and the other two agents carried automatic pistols. The entrance to the building was locked. There was an intercom on the wall by the door, which listed the occupants of the building. Silently, Kelly indicated the name ‘Marfrela’ to the lead agents. As Lucia’s address book had indicated, it seemed he did indeed live in apartment 315. One of the agents produced a small metal tool, and within a few seconds, the team entered the building unnoticed. In the van, Ed appeared to be happily engrossed in a sports magazine, without a care in the world.
Speaking in a whisper, Kelly indicated that she and two of the agents with sub-machine guns would take the elevator to the third floor. She directed Jeff to accompany the remaining agents on the staircase.
‘This is just to minimize the risk of escape,’ she said. ‘No one goes in until we’re all in place.’
The elevator was antiquated and slow, providing no advantage over the stairs, with the result that the two teams converged on apartment 315 at the same time. They stood outside, keyed up and ready to go. Kelly looked up and down the corridor. All was still. She nodded to one of the lead agents. He rapped hard on the door several times.
‘FBI. We have a search warrant. Open up.’
The procedure was repeated once more. There was no reaction from within the apartment.
The lead agent looked inquiringly at Kelly. She nodded.
‘Go.’
Within seconds, the agent had fixed a small explosive charge to the lock, and activated it. Jeff Morris had never witnessed the procedure before, and Kelly had to pull him back and make him face away from the door. The explosion, though minor, removed the lock instantly and completely. The lead agents pushed open the door and entered the apartment, their weapons trained ahead of them, ready for any resistance. There was none. Kelly and Jeff followed right behind them. Abruptly, the leaders stopped just inside the door, and Kelly heard one of them curse under his breath.
‘What is it?’ she asked quietly.
The agent stood aside, lowering his weapon to allow her to see for herself.
Sprawled on the floor, its back leaning against a sofa, was the lifeless body of a man. The body had several bullet wounds, and there was a lot of blood.
‘Is that our friend?’ Jeff asked, in a whisper.
Kelly took the photograph supplied by the State Department from inside her jacket and held it up.
‘That’s him,’ she replied quietly. ‘Check out the rest of the apartment. Assume the killer may still be here. Try not to contaminate the scene, but don’t take any risks.’
Silently, the agents moved through the apartment, checking every room and closet for possible hiding places. It did not take long. The apartment was not a large one.
‘Nothing,’ an agent said to Kelly as they returned.
‘Any other way out of the place?’
‘No. Whoever did this came in through the same door we did, and left the same way.’
&
nbsp; ‘All right. Harry, go down and alert Ed. Have him stay parked right outside the front door, and help him secure the entrance. No one leaves or gets in without showing ID and accounting for themselves. Any questions, you come up and get me.’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
‘I’ll get our forensic people organized,’ Jeff said, taking out his mobile phone.
‘Good,’ Kelly said.
‘So, what do we do now, Kelly?’ an agent asked.
‘We have a search warrant,’ Kelly replied, ‘and we are going to execute it as soon as we can. The problem now is that we can do nothing until the forensic guys get through with the place. I guess the good news is that there’s no rush. We’re not going to be interrupted.’
‘What’s the bad news?’
‘The bad news is that I have to call the Director and tell him what’s happening.’
‘I bet it will make his day.’
‘No kidding.’
‘Anything I can do?’
Kelly considered.
‘Sure. I noticed a coffee shop just down the street. We’re going to be here for a while. We may as well make ourselves comfortable. Get whatever everybody wants, on me. Mine’s a lattè with an extra shot of espresso.’
‘Can I leave the machine gun here? I don’t want to alarm people unnecessarily.’
‘Good thinking, Ben. I’ll look after it for you.’
Kelly took out her mobile phone and called FBI Headquarters, asking to be patched through to the Director on a secure line. Ted Lazenby had only just returned from the White House, feeling bruised and battered, after a long and angry confrontation with the President, during which he had expressed himself strongly about what he saw as an attempt to interfere with an ongoing criminal investigation. It had even occurred to him to hand in his resignation and take an early retirement to his family home in Wisconsin. It was a possibility he had not yet completely rejected. His mood was not improved by Kelly’s news.
‘This is unbelievable,’ he said, the shock obvious in his voice. ‘Do you have any leads yet?’
‘No, Sir. The D.C. forensic people are on their way. I don’t want to contaminate the scene by getting too close but, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like a professional hit. There are a number of wounds, but they’re all over the place. I can’t make a search till the forensic guys are through. I’m probably going to be here all day.’
‘Do you need back-up?’
‘Yes, Sir, lots of it. I’d appreciate it if you would call Chief Bryson and have him take over security at the main entrance here. It’s his jurisdiction. We need enough manpower to start interviewing all the other occupants of the building, and at the same time, keep the press at a safe distance. They’ll probably start showing up any minute now.’
‘You got it.’
‘I guess you’ll be informing the Lebanese Embassy?’
‘And the State Department. It’s required in a case involving an accredited diplomat.’
Kelly hesitated.
‘Is there any way you could hold off on that for a while?’
‘Why, Kelly?’
‘To give me time to look around. Once their people get here and start throwing their weight around, it’s going to be a real circus.’
Lazenby sighed deeply.
‘Oh, God, why not? I’m in deep enough as it is.’
‘Sir?’
‘I just had to chew the President out for trying to interfere in the investigation. This was just after he learned from The Washington Post that Lucia Benoni was the proud possessor of an S-pass.’
Kelly’s jaw dropped.
‘The Post? You’re not serious.’
‘I’m afraid I am very serious. Can you think of any way this could have leaked? Because right now, we’re looking like we have egg all over our faces.’
‘No, Sir, I can’t. No one knew about it at our end except you and me. There were several D.C. people, obviously, Chief Bryson, Lieutenant Morris, and one or two other officers who would have been cataloguing the evidence. Do you want me to look into it?’
‘No. I’ll handle it myself with Chief Bryson. What about your friend in the Secret Service?’
‘Linda? No way. She was mad at us just because of the possible damage to the President. She’s very protective of him.’
‘All right. Call in the moment you have anything new.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Frustrated, Kelly shut off the phone and walked over to Jeff Morris.
‘Are your people on their way?’
‘Yes. They’ll be about half an hour.’
She took his arm and pulled him into a corner.
‘Jeff, I need to ask you something, but it mustn’t go any further.’
‘Shoot.’
‘I just spoke to Director Lazenby. He had just come from the White House. Someone tipped off The Washington Post about the fact that Lucia Benoni had an S-pass.’
Jeff’s eyes opened wide.
‘At our end?’
‘That’s his suspicion. Only he and I knew about it within the Bureau. I know it wasn’t you, so…’
‘Thank you.’
‘It goes without saying, Jeff. But can you think of any possibilities?’
Morris leaned against the wall.
‘There are only two other officers officially involved with handling the evidence. As you know, as soon as I found it, I kept it hidden until I could talk to Chief Bryson. There were uniformed officers on the scene before I got there. They’re not supposed to touch anything, and I have no reason to believe they did. But I guess you never know.’
‘OK,’ Kelly said. ‘Lazenby has warned me off that aspect of the inquiry, anyway. He’s going to talk to Bryson about it. But keep your ears and eyes open just in case. I don’t like the way this is going.’
It was almost two hours later by the time the D.C. scenes-of-crimes officers had finished their work. Their quiet, methodical approach contrasted markedly with the chaotic scene outside the apartment building. The entire street had been taken over by the press and television camera crews. Several different crews were filming segments for the evening news at the same time. Cameras and lights had been set up in the street as well as on the sidewalk. The reporters’ vigil was not particularly rewarding. Kelly had given instructions that no information should be released, except that a male had been found shot to death at an apartment within the building, and an investigation was ongoing. The reporters were clamoring for more. Ed had retired to a safe distance in the black van. The resources of the D.C. police officers were strained almost to breaking point as they held the reporters and sightseers at bay outside the cordon they had established around the apartment building, and tempers were becoming frayed. Detectives from the D.C. Police Department had begun a door-to-door inquiry.
The Medical Examiner stopped to speak to her on his way out.
‘Male, about thirty, thirty-five, with six bullet wounds in different parts of the body. Probably from a good old-fashioned revolver. Kind of romantic. You don’t see that very much any more. The shooter probably fired from just inside this door. I would say the victim’s been dead between six and twelve hours. I know that’s not very precise. I’ll have more for you once I’ve done the autopsy.’
‘Thank you, Doctor.’
As the body was being removed on a stretcher, Kelly and Jeff walked back into the living room, where two forensic scientists were finishing up their work.
‘Any prints, Joe?’ Morris asked.
‘Everywhere. I have a feeling we may get lucky on this one.’
‘You might want to try the door,’ Morris said. ‘The M.E. said the shooter may have fired from there. Maybe he didn’t make it very far inside.’
‘I’m afraid we weren’t very helpful,’ Kelly said ruefully. ‘We took the lock out when we came in.’
Joe grinned cheerfully, and ambled towards the door.
‘No problem. I’ve dealt with that one before. I’ll pick up the pieces and take
a look for you.’
For the next two hours, Kelly, Jeff, and a forensic specialist took Hamid Marfrela’s home apart piece by piece. His personal effects were few and unremarkable. There were no secret hiding places, and the most important find was made in a drawer in the walk-in closet off the bedroom. No effort had been made to conceal it. Jeff Morris made the discovery, and called Kelly in to see.
‘What have you got?’
Jeff indicated the drawer with a smile. Lying inside was a Ruger 357 Magnum and a box of ammunition.
‘How about a possible murder weapon?’
‘God, that would be nice, wouldn’t it? Do you think this is standard diplomatic issue?’
‘I don’t know.’
Kelly stared at the weapon thoughtfully.
‘I wonder if he was expecting trouble.’
‘I don’t think he was expecting it quite so soon,’ Jeff replied. ‘Otherwise, he might have kept his gun some place a little closer to hand, where he might have had a chance of using it.’
Kelly nodded.
‘Well, we’ll get it tested and see if he practiced with it on Lucia. What else?’
‘Oh, you’re going to love this. One brown folder containing a road map and what appear to be directions….’
‘To get where?’
‘Well, the map is a road map of the State of Oregon. And I would hazard a guess that the arrow here points to the friendly local Sons of the Flag compound. I also think it might be fun to check out these phone numbers he scribbled on the back of the map.’
‘Beautiful,’ Kelly said. ‘What else is in there?’
‘A bunch of stuff I haven’t even got to yet. I wanted to show you the good stuff first. Let’s take a look.’
Kelly was suddenly apprehensive.
‘Let’s do that later, Jeff. I don’t know how long Lazenby was able to hold off calling the Lebanese Embassy. With all the press activity, probably not very long. Let’s get all this stuff bagged and out of here before they show up screaming diplomatic privilege. Did we find his passport?’
‘Yes. They’ve bagged it already.’
‘We’re going to have to hand that over to them. Make a list of the stamps in it, and any other information.’
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