So I was still in Never-Neverland. That meant Jack probably wouldn’t be able to find anything useful.
Frost continued, “I’m going to check in with Homeland and see if any of this has really been classified. For now if you have anything to report, don’t come in. Do it by phone. I’ll let you know if I find out it’s been classified. Meanwhile keep your head down.”
I headed back to the shower, expecting to hear a loud banging on my door at any minute.
◆◆◆
Day 9, 7:30AM
Even with all my recent frustrations, I walked out of the condo entrance feeling a little better. At least now I could drive. It would make getting around town a lot easier. An antique racing green Triumph TR-6, my car was at the south end of the parking lot. The canvas cover still held remnants of the snow storm. Fortunately the sun had softened the fabric, so I was able to shake it out and fold it up. Once I had the cover in the trunk—I know, boot. It is a British car after all—I climbed in and crossed my fingers that it would start.
The starter clicked but didn’t turn the engine over. I swore to myself and got out of the car and locked it up. I had been gone for over a month and should have expected the battery would need charging, especially with the cold weather. I headed for the metro. I still had an appointment with the registrar to make.
◆◆◆
Day 9, 9:00AM
From the Metro it was a short walk to the registrar’s office. I was pleasantly surprised when the registrar, Laura Bachman, let me see the names and courses of the failed football players without having to produce a warrant. I’d guess she was in her early sixties, a slightly overweight brunet with a sprinkling of gray in her hair, with her manner and dress saying strictly business. She listened intently, and when I was through, she said, “Technically I shouldn’t do this, but … if you’re investigating possible cheating, I’d rather keep it out of the public till the dean’s office can check it out. A warrant would call attention to it.”
She surprised me again by rifling through a file cabinet and pulling out a dozen folders stuffed with papers. When she saw my expression, she said, “I know, it looks strange to have paper files these days, but hackers can’t get to these. Plus I can control which ones people with questions can have access to this way.” She smiled at me and led me to a table in a back room. “If you can avoid it, please don’t spread this information around. When you get through, make sure you return these directly to me or my assistant, Karen Linkowski, and nobody else.” As she turned to leave, she added, “By the way, despite my comment about hackers, we are in the process of scanning all these records into our database. We’ve just gotten started, and these are yet to be scanned.”
It didn’t take me long to find what I needed. The twelve football players Laura had provided me all looked suspicious. I wrote down their names along with their contact information. Manny Castillo was the top of my list. Judging by his grade progression he was likely the one who started everything. His grades had been low until they suddenly jumped and stayed high and then just as suddenly plummeted. He had to repeat several courses to make up for failing grades and was barely hanging on in some of his current classes.
Most of the others had followed a similar pattern, a sudden improvement followed by a sudden drop. It seemed odd to me that nobody had noticed the progression. I later found out from Laura that the reason they were switching to computerized records was just that problem. Using paper records the university didn’t have the resources to track individual student progress except for the occasional standout. Laura had been able to find the records I needed so quickly because I told her what I was looking for. Usually, the students’ advisors were too overloaded to do more than pat the students on the back for good grades and suggest they study harder after poor grades.
Two of the players stood out. They had been carrying passing grades but abruptly jumped into the top tier. Then when Reid stopped supplying answers, they weren’t ready to start studying again. One had quit. The other had made up his courses and would be eligible academically for the team next season. I doubted either would be willing to talk about cheating.
Karen turned out to be the grandmotherly woman I had met before. “Laura told me to expect you.” She accepted the folders. “Did you find what you needed?”
“Everything but a direct link to Reid. Please pass on my thanks to Laura, and tell her there was a definite problem that stands out like a sore thumb, at least for the football players.”
Before I headed back to the Metro, I used my phone to locate the Division of Student Affairs. It wasn’t too far out of my way, so I took the detour. My badge and ID were enough to get Manny’s contact information without any argument. Then I headed to the Metro with a lot on my mind.
How was I going to approach Manny? His cheating was obvious in the records I had examined, and if the dean’s office was being called in, it wouldn’t be long before he would be facing some kind of disciplinary action. I felt sorry for the kid. In fact, I wondered if he even knew he was cheating. I’d have to tread lightly since I was the one who triggered the possible investigation.
Now I needed to have a heart to heart discussion about people trashing my apartment. I found a bench and sat down and started with Jake.
◆◆◆
Day 9, 10:00AM
I had barely said, “Hello, Jake,” when he stopped me before I could get started.
“I figured I’d hear from you,” he said. “Your boss told me about your home invasion. My people had nothing to do with it. I also know about William’s video. Wells blew his top in the staff meeting this morning. He was ready to have both your and Frost’s heads. He was not at all happy when I reminded him that the video wasn’t classified.”
In a way his words were a relief, but I could clearly see that I might need to start looking for another job when I finished proving the explosion was intentional. And I might be taking Frost with me. That bothered me more than the potential loss of my own job.
“So I can come in without being arrested?” I joked.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied.
I had just taken a sip from a water bottle I had brought along and almost choked on it. “What!”
Jake chuckled and said, “Just kidding, Sam, but I wouldn’t get anywhere near Wells for a while if I were you.”
Chapter 21
Lester “Tex” Houston, Channel 12: “When asked about the latest video of the Reid disaster, Roger McClosky of Homeland Security was limited in what he could tell me.”
[Video snippet] McClosky: “We’re now investigating the explosion as a possible terrorist act. I can’t tell you any more than that.”
Houston: “When I pressured him about whether they were dropping the investigation of a possible matter/antimatter explosion, he referred me to his boss who hasn’t returned my calls.”
News at Eleven – Channel 12
Day 9, 11:30AM
While I was talking to Jake, my phone beeped Frost’s number. I ignored the call. When I finished with Jake, I checked the voice mail Frost had left. He said it was okay for me to come in, and like Jake he suggested avoiding Director Wells. I headed back to Reston. I needed a face-to-face with Frost, but first I needed to get my car started.
The walk from the subway to my condo seemed to take forever. I pulled my keys out of my purse and played with them all the way, as if that would somehow get me there sooner. As luck would have it Roger Stinson, one of my neighbors, was getting in his car when I walked up. He waved, and I trotted over. “Roger, do you have jumper cables? My car sat too long, and the battery is dead.”
“Sure. Be happy to help.”
A few minutes later the Triumph was purring. After thanking Roger, I watched him drive away. Since I had been gone for over a month, I let the engine warm up for a couple of minutes. Then I backed out of the parking space and headed for the nearest fast food restaurant.
As I was getting out of the car, a familiar voice said, “Nic
e car.”
I was surprised to see Phil Kaminski. I nodded and said, “Phil,” as I stood up. “We seem to keep meeting. What are you doing here?” I headed for the restaurant entrance, and he followed.
“I came over to check with Wells on how to handle the Williams’ video. I decided to stop for lunch before heading back to DC. Nice job finding that, by the way. It made the network news.”
I walked up to the counter with him behind me. The server at the counter stared at me long enough that I had to say something to break the spell. “Too close to an explosion,” I whispered with a conspiratorial wink.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” She recovered and glanced at Phil. “Are you together?”
I started to say no, but Phil spoke first. “Allow me. I’ll pay for both.” He addressed me. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you since we have the opportunity.”
The first thing I thought of was he was going to ask me to quit investigating. “You speaking for Wells?” I looked back at him.
“Indirectly. It’s about the explosion.” He was smiling.
I was still miffed at him for hampering my investigation, but I knew he was only following orders. Besides, I had taken a verbal shot at him and felt I owed him a little courtesy. On top of that I was curious as to what he would have to say. I nodded yes, and we ordered our food.
While we were waiting for our order to come up, Phil asked, “What’s your interest in proving this wasn’t a matter/antimatter explosion?”
I thought about that before answering him. “Two things: stopping work on teleportals will just put the U.S. behind the rest of the world. Someone else will produce another working model. After all, there are other Reid’s out there, and Dr. Kim’s treatise on wormholes is still available on the internet.” I took a sip of my soda. “And, on top of that, we established contact with another Earth that has a slightly different history but the same languages. We can learn so much from them, even if it turns out we can’t travel to their universe. Heck, they’ve been using teleportals safely for over twenty years.”
We got our order and sat down at a booth under a window. He took a bite of his hamburger and watched me intently as he chewed. I was beginning to get annoyed when he finally spoke. “You say ‘we’ like there have been more people than Reid who’ve contacted this other Earth,” he observed. “Have there?”
Of course, he might not have been familiar with the teleportal rescue some weeks back because thanks to Wells’ efforts it had been limited to the local news in Arizona. And the Trio had been effectively isolated since then. Still, Homeland should have known about the contact with the Alternates which happened afterwards. The FBI was there. They had to know. Had they not bothered to inform Homeland? Or had Homeland not told their people? “You don’t know? Dr. Kim and her colleagues have been in contact with the Alternates for several weeks now, even before Reid made contact. We have electronic audio and visual communication with them.”
He finished another bite. “There’s that ‘we’ again. What’s your part in all this?”
I felt a little uncomfortable answering that because it would sound like I was bragging. Still, I had opened the subject up. I owed him an answer. “I spent most of the past month with Dr. Kim’s team trying to make teleportals safe to use, considering all the ways they can be misused.”
His eyes widened. “You’ve actually been working with Dr. Kim?”
“Yes.” It took five minutes to give him the condensed version.
For a large, tough looking man, Phil managed to look like a ten year old boy who just met Dale Earnhardt. “Whoa,” he breathed. “No wonder this investigation is so important to you. So what are you doing about it?”
“I have enough circumstantial evidence to convince me that the explosion was intentional and no accident… You saw Williams’ video. It’s pretty clear the explosion was nowhere near the portal. I’m hoping to find enough hard evidence to convince a grand jury it was murder. Or even better, to entice the killer into admitting everything.”
“And at Wells’ insistence Homeland is hampering your investigation.” He looked quizzical. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m on your side. I’ll help out any way I can, but I have to follow orders.”
“Yeah, and Dennis Wells is pulling the strings. He’s been trying to block the teleportal project ever since he found out about it. All he sees is the possible ways it can harm the country. He has every right to be concerned for the nation’s security, but he just doesn’t understand. This is too important to bury. On top of that, as I already pointed out, it can’t be buried.”
My voice must have been getting louder because Phil went back to the explosion. “Do you have any suspects?” He spoke quietly.
I appreciated the question. I thought it might help to talk over what I had with a trained investigator. “I have one so far, but my evidence is all hearsay. I do have a video of the guy I think set the explosion, but he never shows his face.”
“How can you tie this person to the explosion? What evidence do you have that he had any connection to it?”
I was prepared for that. “None really, but He went into the building wearing a coat that made him look like Santa Claus had put on weight, and he came out looking like a middle weight wrestler. You’d need to see the video to really appreciate what I mean.”
He said, “I get your point. Still, you don’t have any way to tell what he left behind. Couldn’t it have been a natural gas explosion?”
“The gas to the building has been shut off at the street since Reid put his lab there. Also, none of the investigators I was able talk to”—I gave him a dirty look—“smelled gas. Officer LaMotte said she smelled almonds.”
“Sorry about that. But our orders were to make sure no one talked about the explosion. The national security angle seemed shaky, but I didn’t see any reason to question it. As for the odor of almonds, you probably already know C4 leaves that kind of odor. Granted, it’s not conclusive, but it is certainly suggestive. It might also imply a terrorist act. An explosion on live TV would certainly fit into their MO.”
That point had escaped me up until now. “I see what you mean. I suppose terrorism is a possibility, but has anyone claimed it?”
He shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
“From what I’ve seen and heard, terrorists tend to jump on things like explosions, sometimes claiming credit even when they had nothing to do with the attack. For terror purposes doesn’t something like this lose its impact with time?” I had another thought. “Besides, wouldn’t a terrorist attack still prove it wasn’t a problem with the portal? It would still be a crime and not a technical problem.”
Phil nodded. “And solving it should be our job… not hiding evidence.” I could tell by his voice that he was frustrated. It was a relief to be able to talk to someone besides Officer LaMotte and my own department who actually got it. “Maybe I should talk to Wells again.”
I had to smile despite my frustration. “You’re welcome to try, but Wells is convinced that teleportals will destroy the country. Making the explosion a teleportal issue gives him more ammo when he goes before congress in two weeks. I’m sure he thinks it will give him the edge he needs to get a bill passed to outlaw teleportals and all work on them.”
I went back to my problem. “Phil, you’re a trained investigator, right? Maybe you can give me some advice. If it wasn’t matter/antimatter and it wasn’t a terrorist attack, how do I check out a suspect without scaring him off?”
“Shouldn’t the police be handling that? Just turn your information over to them.” He grimaced and slapped the right side of his head. I think he realized what he was saying as soon as he said it.
I studied him before speaking. “Funny thing, isn’t it? The police are under orders from Homeland not to investigate the explosion. LaMotte's captain flatly refused to do anything even after we showed him Williams’ video and he agreed that the explosion looked intentional.”
P
hil barked a quick laugh. “And we’re under a secrecy lid so we can’t acknowledge any evidence that contradicts what we’ve already published. I really do think I should talk to Wells.” He leaned across the table. “You want some good advice?”
“As long as it isn’t give up and go home.”
He grinned. “Nothing like that. I want you to nab the bastards who did this.”
“Okay. Fire away.”
“Investigating a crime is like putting together a jig saw puzzle that you don’t have all the pieces for. You have to fit the pieces you have together until you’re sure of the picture and you’re sure you can convince others to see the same picture. You’ve heard ‘the devil is in the details,’ right? Details are the big thing you have to pay close attention to. They tell you whether the pieces actually fit.”
I was beginning to see that Phil was a good guy who was just following legal—if wrong—orders. I thought over what he said. “That makes sense. That’s what I’m trying to do. Do you have any examples you can talk about?”
Phil had been a Baltimore cop before he was recruited by Homeland. We spent the next ten minutes talking about some cases he’d worked. The examples did give me a better feel for what I was trying to do, but I still had to be the one to spot the details.
I had finished my burger. We both stood. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. “If I can help in any way, give me a call.”
I took the card. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for your advice.”
◆◆◆
Day 9, 12:00PM
As soon as I walked into Frost’s office, his administrative assistant, Sylvia, said, “Good timing, Samantha. The boss wants to see you.”
Frost stood as I came in. He indicated a chair and started without a preamble. “Have a seat. The president wants a briefing on what’s going on at the safe house. I told his chief of staff you were the best person for the job. I need to call him and find out when we need to be there.”
Damage Control Page 15