“I’m not saying we shouldn’t try, but let’s focus on what we can accomplish.”
“Okay.” Mel swallowed. “How about a starting place then?”
“The two experts with the demolition company are Jonathan Snow from California and Bradford Morgan from Maryland.”
She grabbed the pen and pad and jotted down the names. “Which one is the man in the green suit?”
“I’ve seen a picture of both men in a trade article, but I do not know which is which. I missed Green Suit’s exit from the Council House. I didn’t tail him to further identify him.”
She bit her lip. Because you were helping Hope and me. “When can we meet?”
“I look forward to it.” He paused. “And to meeting your partner.”
Richie’s jaw dropped and he almost dropped the phone.
“Tomorrow. Noon?” She tapped the pad with the pen.
“I’ll call the next time I’m in town.”
She looked at the telephone screen display. Private number. Darn. “What’s your call back number?”
“Keep looking for the truth,” he said and hung up.
“Oh man. No.” She squeezed the receiver and frowned. She hadn’t even gotten his number.
“Mel, he’ll call back. Just like he said, next time he’s in town.” Richie bobbed his head. “He’s got to.”
Was he trying to convince himself, too?
“Cheer up,” he said. “We’ve got a man in a green suit to identify.”
She huffed and slumped her shoulders. “Who do you want, Snow or Bradford?”
Richie’s Nextel beeped. “I’ll jump in in a minute.” He flipped his phone open and began speaking.
“Okay.” She cracked her neck and hit the keyboard. This should be cake. She’d just hit up Maryland and Cali Department of Motor Vehicle records for both Snow and Bradford. She ran queries in both states for male whites with a birth year range from 1950 through 1960, but soon realized she had to narrow the search further to request photos.
She looked up at Richie. He had just snapped his Nextel closed.
“About how tall is Martin?” she asked. “I’m trying to estimate Green Suits height, and they are standing together in the photo.”
“Martin who?” He neatened his desk.
“You know.” She wriggled her nose. “Your cousin who works security at the Council House.”
“Come on, Mel. I apologized, didn’t I?”
He put on his lost-puppy face, and she felt guilty for teasing him. She crunched a scrap of paper into a ball and aimed for his face. As he swatted it away, his eyes lit up, and he pulled open his middle desk drawer. That could only mean one thing. Rubber bands.
“Truce!” She put her hands up in surrender.
Shaking his head, he laughed and closed the drawer.
“Seriously, can you guess his height?”
“About five foot ten.” He switched off his monitor.
“Martin?” She looked up. “Ya think?”
“Green Suit!” He scrunched his eyebrows. “Martin’s over six feet and a solid 220.”
“Jeez! You know I stink at descriptions.” Now she could narrow the search to male whites under five foot eleven. “Thanks, that helps.” She looked up at him and smiled.
Richie grabbed the unmarked sedan car keys.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
“That was Mark.” He jiggled his Nextel. “Tony needs the WTC metal I took from the Building 7 pile for testing.”
“Sounds encouraging,” she said and returned her eyes to her monitor.
“Want a take a ride to the Bronx with me.”
She looked up from the screen and then at her notepad. She paused and then shrugged.
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He grabbed his jacket. “It’s cool if you want to stay and find Green Suit.”
“You mind?” She hit enter.
“Nah. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
A Maryland driver’s license for Bradford Morgan popped up on her screen. “Rich, that did it! Thanks.” She turned her head away from the monitor, but he’d already left. Time to work Morgan up from shoe size to shampoo brand.
Chapter 29
Eva left the Council House and practically flew to the subway station. Richie was coming over for dinner and a movie, and she couldn’t wait to see him. She had rented a comedy with a silly and shallow plot. She passed over the dramas, knowing their minds wouldn’t focus on intricate storylines, not with the tension of the investigation and the sadness of September 11 lingering everywhere. They needed a mental break from it all. At least for an hour or so.
If only she had time to cook pelmeni, her favorite meal from home. She wanted to share everything with him, not just her body and her new life in America. Although that was nice too. But making the dough would take the whole night, and then they wouldn’t have any time for the movie. Someday, she’d have plenty of time to cook for him. Her stomach fluttered like a schoolgirl’s realizing that she wanted him in her life always. For tonight, Chinese takeout would have to do. She would pass Chef Tang’s on the way home anyway, and Mel and Mark raved about the food there. She had never considered stopping for a meal just for herself. Chinese food was fun to share.
As she waited for the train, she shifted her leather tote bag from hand to hand. The three hardcover logbooks she had stuffed in earlier were getting heavy.
She had found the visitor logbooks from the years 1998 through 2000 in the bottom drawer of the receptionist’s desk this morning and sneaked them into her tote bag before anyone else arrived. The last date entered was the day the receptionist had gone on maternity leave, almost a year ago. The Council was holding the position for her, so her desk had been vacant. The department heads were keeping track of meetings with outside correspondents, and this new system seemed to work just fine. Mr. Rock mustn’t have seen the need for a temporary replacement. Perhaps the new system, with less record keeping, suited his needs better.
The chairman had probably forgotten the books even existed. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t miss them. But she’d worry until they were returned anyway. Once Richie had browsed all the entries, she’d put them back.
The train stopped at her station, and she lugged the tote up the stairs. By the time she reached Third Avenue, both arms ached from the weight. She had gotten soft since moving to the United States. A desk job was no way to keep fit.
She stopped in Chef Tang’s and rested the tote on the counter until her order was ready. When the cashier handed her a large takeout bag, she groaned. With a sigh, she headed back outside. Two short blocks to walk, and one long one. She huffed and stopped to rest her arms after taking only a few steps.
“Eva, wait up.”
She turned around to see who had called her name. Mel was pushing Hope in a stroller. “You’ve got your hands full,” she said. “Slide the tote on the bottom rack.”
As Eva bent down the takeout bag swung forward. Mel took it and hung it from the handles. “Smells good.”
Eva wiggled her fingers at the baby. “Hi, cutie.”
“So who’s the food for?”
“Just me.” She said with an overly mischievous mile.
“All that food?”
“And a hungry date.” She was bursting to tell Mel about Richie.
Mel grinned. “What does he look like?”
“Picture a rugged Will Smith.”
“Tall, dark, and handsome.” Mel smiled. “Mmmm, mmmm.”
“You might know his partner. Short pretty brunette, wears her hair in a ponytail. And she’s annoyingly clever.” Eva held a straight face for almost a second and then burst out laughing.
“Pretty, huh?” Mel struck a pose and laughed.
“So detective, how long have you known?” Eva asked while they waited for the traffic light to change.
“I just found out today.” Mel gave her a quick hug. “And I couldn’t be happier.”
“Now that you know, join us for dinner. I boug
ht too much anyway.” Eva shrugged. “I’m not sure what Richie likes.”
“He likes everything except mushrooms.” They reached the curb and Mel put her foot on the back of the stroller to hoist it up. “I wouldn’t dare crash your evening.”
“It’s Chef Tang’s! You can’t say no.”
“Richie will kill me.”
“He loves you and you know it,” Eva said. “Besides, I have some books I want you both to see. I should return them before they’re missed.”
When they reached the building entrance, Eva scooted ahead and held the front door open. She cooed at the baby as Mel wheeled her inside. “Don’t you want to visit Aunt Eva, sweetie?”
“Playing the baby card. Wow, Eva! I can’t say no now.” Mel smiled. “Warn Richie first, though.”
“Warn me about what?” Richie walked into the hallway holding a bottle of wine and flowers. He gave Eva a squeeze around her waist and a quick kiss. He held the inside door open with his foot and waited for the girls to pass. “Should I be worried?” he asked.
Mel raised her eyebrows and looked at Eva. “Ask him.”
“I have something to show you both. I invited Mel to dinner.”
“Sounds good.” He shrugged and pointed at Hope. “Should I carry the whole stroller up the stairs?”
Mel nodded. “Please.”
Eva smiled at Mel as she retrieved the Chinese takeout from the handle. “I knew he wouldn’t mind.” She reached up, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear.
He rubbed her neck. “Deal.”
“I won’t overstay my welcome, Rich. Promise.” Mel took the tote bag from the bottom of the stroller.
“I love ya like a sister, Mel,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll definitely hold you to that promise.” He handed Eva the wine and flowers and lifted the stroller.
The baby fell asleep as soon as Eva turned on the stereo. After dinner, Eva cleared the dishes, making room on the dinette table, and handed a logbook each to Richie and Mel. She lay one on her own place mat as well. “All visitors to the Council House were logged in until about this time last year. There may be some suspicious meetings on record,” she said.
“Good thinking, Eva.” Richie squeezed her hand. “We should make a list of names and affiliations of visitors of interest.”
Eva ran to her junk drawer and grabbed pads and pens. She passed them out and opened the logbook for the year 2000.
The baby began to stir. “I’ll take her downstairs to change and feed her.”
Richie’s head was buried deep in the 1998 logbook. He grunted when Mel picked up the baby and continued writing in his pad.
Eva walked Mel to the door and opened it. “See you in a few minutes.”
By the time Mel and the baby returned, Richie had filled five pages of his notepad. Eva had gone through the logbook for the year 2000 and was just finishing the 1999 book. Her list filled one notebook page.
“We’re back.” Mel sat down with the baby on her lap.
Richie briefly looked up from his task. He did a double take of Hope in pink fuzzy pajamas and a huge grin spread across his face. A grin that warmed Eva’s heart—she wanted to have a family with this man.
Then he reached over, wiggled his fingers and began singing about an itsy bitsy spider. Hope stared at him, mouth agape and eyes bright. Eva exchanged a look with Mel, and both held back laughter. He placed the books on the table and stretched out his long arms, and Mel transferred the baby to his knees. Hope giggled as he bounced her on his lap. They all laughed with her.
Eva handed Mel a wineglass. “I mixed in some club soda.”
“Thanks.” Mel took a sip. “How did you make out with the logbooks?” she asked and lifted Richie’s list from the table.
Looking over Hope’s head, he said, “Check out Moen Pindar’s visits.”
She looked at the list and then double-checked the log book. “He visited the executive office ten times in 1998. Ten times!”
Eva handed her the page she had written. “Five times in 1999 and three in 2000.”
“That’s ample proof that a high-level Mossad agent met with the Council’s executive staff,” Richie said. “We got him and Dewer Rock on felony conspiracy charges, at the very least.”
“And look at the pattern.” Mel pointed at the handwritten pages. “He was distancing himself from Dewer Rock as the attack date approached.” Mel’s eyes narrowed. “Eva, when you’re at work, can you secretly copy down Pindar’s visits from the 2001 log and see if the pattern continues?”
“There is no 2001 log.” Eva bit her lower lip, realizing why the receptionist was never replaced. “Mr. Rock must have discontinued the log on purpose.”
“Do we have time to photocopy the logbooks?” Richie looked at Eva. “How long before they’ll be missed?”
“I should return them tomorrow.” She shrugged. “But no one has any reason to suspect me if they are missed.”
“What do you think, little detective?” Richie tickled Hope’s belly and made a funny face when she giggled.
“Eva has to take them back, Rich.” Mel waved a hand over the books. “The logbooks won’t be admissible in court because Eva wasn’t authorized to remove them. We’ll get a search warrant when we apply for arrest warrants.”
“That leaves too much wiggle room.” Richie shook his head and puffed out his cheeks, earning another round of giggles from the baby. “Dewer Rock could destroy them by then.”
“I doubt if he even remembers they exist.” Eva refilled the wineglasses. “He rarely comes into my office. All his directives come through department managers and e-mails.”
“How about this,” Richie said. “Eva returns the logbooks, but hides them in a storeroom. He’ll never find them, and we’ll know where to look when we execute the search warrant.”
Eva ran around the table and hugged him. “Perfect plan.”
Mel took the baby from Richie. “It’s a bit unorthodox, but so was removing the logbooks in the first place.” She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I guess, sometimes, rule bending is unavoidable.”
Richie grasped Eva’s hands. “Can you hide them without being seen?”
“Of course.” She smiled. “I’ll go in early tomorrow. Would you drive me?”
“Time to skedaddle and leave you two alone.” Mel stood and opened the apartment door. “Rich, would you bring the stroller down in the morning?”
He waved Mel off and then pulled Eva into his arms.
“Night, guys.” She winked and closed the door.
Eva felt her cheeks blush. “Good night, Mel.”
Chapter 30
As soon as Richie arrived at his desk the next day, he reviewed all his notes. He pulled out file folders and spread them across his desk. The evidence against Dewer Rock was mounting, but they needed more. He shifted in his chair and adjusted the handcuff case nestled against the small of his back. He couldn’t wait to snap his bracelets on the scum bag. Dewer Rock’s wealth, social status, and political clout shouldn’t matter. A criminal was a criminal. And the crimes he had committed were horrendous. Yet, if Richie couldn’t bring multiple pieces of undeniable evidence to the District Attorney’s Office, Dewer Rock would walk.
When he dropped Eva off at the Council House this morning, a pit sunk deep into his gut. Even though Dewer Rock spent most of his workdays in his midtown office building, and less time at the Council House, it was little comfort to Richie. After Eva had kissed him goodbye, he’d gripped the steering wheel tight to resist dragging her back into the truck. The thought of her inside that building drove him wild. He worried every minute she was at work.
Squeezing the edge of his desk, he took a deep breath. He thought about how well Eva had adjusted and he relaxed a little bit. She transitioned into a mole without missing a beat, even quicker than he had immersed himself in the Impoverished. And she didn’t seem frightened anymore, just anxious to wrap things up. So was he—he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her. Afte
r all, he was the one who had convinced her to become a mole. Worrying would get him nowhere. He shook the apprehension away and concentrated on case strategy instead.
He had probable cause for a valid arrest for Dewer Rock, but he needed more evidence to make it stick. Sure, steel handcuffs around the scum’s wrists and cheap vinyl upholstery from the backseat of an RMP might give the pansy a rash. And taking away his freedom, even for a few hours, would send a strong warning. Oh, and I’ll make sure the press takes a picture of his perp walk. An image of a handcuffed Dewer Rock, being led to a blue-and-white squad car with bold NYPD letters painted on the fender would warn his cohorts that local police departments would hold them accountable for crimes against humanity, even if national governments wouldn’t.
Once he documented a connection between Dewer Rock and thermite he’d be confident that the arrest would stick longer than just a few hours. He’d coordinate Moen Pindar’s arrest with Todd Wilson. If they didn’t arrest them at the same time, Pindar would have a chance to flee home to Israel.
He looked across his desk at Mel and cleared his throat.
She rolled her pen across the legal pad she had been writing on and looked up. “What’s up?”
“Eva has searched the Council’s computer files, but hasn’t found any records showing thermite purchases.” He shrugged. “Where do you suppose the Council acquired thermite?
“Simon Demolition, where else?”
“But where did Simon Demo get it?” He opened Simon’s file folder and browsed a financial report. “The business can’t support that kind of purchase. Dewer Rock had to have transferred them funds. There must be records somewhere.”
“Thermite is not commercially available anywhere. Tony said the only place that produces it is a government facility in Livermore, California.” She tapped her pen on the desk. “And the facility wouldn’t sell even a small amount to the bomb squad.”
“It refused to sell thermite to the NYPD for investigative purposes. Really?” He shook his head. “But they had no problem selling such a large quantity of thermite to Simon Demolition!”
The Council House (The Impoverished Book 3) Page 13