###
Levi sat in his rental, a Ford Taurus with a V6 engine. He’d tried getting something with a bit more oomph, but this was the best the rental place could do at the time. He was waiting for someone to make a move. It was going to be O’Connor or Benson, maybe even Anspach. Today was the day things would turn around, he could feel it.
He was in the PMI parking garage located less than half a mile away from the State Department building and two miles from where O’Connor’s car currently was, underneath the FBI Field Office building.
He took the opportunity to review the last eighteen hours of every vehicle he was tracking. If the girl was being hidden somewhere, then they’d have to bring her food every once in a while. Starting with the preschool’s principal, and then the teacher, he watched as they took their daily commute.
Nothing struck him as out of the ordinary until he got to Anspach. He’d moved around quite a bit after his trip to the supermarket—traveling north on New Hampshire Avenue a good distance past Arlington, into what looked like a rural area more than twenty miles from home.
Levi zoomed in and the Google Maps feature showed that New Hampshire Avenue was a two-lane road. The tracking app showed him going off the road a good distance. Zooming in, all he could see from the satellite image of the area was trees. No obvious homes or anything else.
His heart began beating faster and he exited the history view and looked back at the current tracking status.
O’Connor’s car was on the move.
“Oh shit!” Levi backed out of his parking spot, put the car into gear and floored the accelerator.
Benson’s car was moving as well.
Levi exited the parking garage, and the Taurus’s engine whined as he accelerated down Virginia Avenue, and then hung a hard right on Twenty-First Street. Based on what the app was saying, his target was somewhere right ahead of him. Scanning the road as he approached Constitution Avenue, he looked for Benson’s red Cadillac.
Glancing again at the app, O’Connor must have been flying, because his dot was barreling down Constitution Avenue from the east, faster than should have been possible given the traffic.
Did he have his lights on? That might explain it.
Levi spotted a flicker of red up ahead. Benson’s Cadillac was hanging a right on Constitution.
Gritting his teeth, Levi honked and bullied his way through the late-morning traffic in the Capitol. It was a miracle none of the police were on his tail for reckless driving.
As he turned right on Lincoln Memorial Circle, he realized that Benson had to be heading out of DC and across the Potomac, via the Arlington Memorial Bridge.
He weaved in and out of traffic and pressed hard on the accelerator. The car’s V6 roared in protest, but it closed the distance … until the Cadillac’s more powerful engine launched it past a scrum of cars.
With a blockade of red brake lights ahead of him, Levi tightened his grip on the steering wheel and swerved up onto the side of the bridge’s walkway. People dove out of his way as he passed the slowdown and he plunged back onto the asphalt, accelerating after Benson.
Ahead he saw more red lights—cars were slowing. An accident had somehow managed to get a Corvette spun around on the wet asphalt.
The world seemed to slow as Levi watched Benson’s Cadillac accelerate straight for the Corvette—and ram directly into it.
But due to the sports car’s low body, it wasn’t so much a crash as a launch. Benson’s heavy vehicle drove over the Corvette, angling upward as it flew into the air. The front-heavy Cadillac almost immediately tumbled forward, slamming into the concrete guardrail of the bridge, its momentum flipping it end over end as it disappeared off the side of the Arlington Memorial Bridge.
Levi slammed on his brakes.
Lights and sirens blared behind him. Stunned into inaction, Levi stared ahead at where the car had flown off the bridge. Within moments, a half dozen unmarked cars converged onto the scene. Too fast for response vehicles.
More than one FBI windbreaker was visible among those who hopped out of the cars at the scene.
As Levi turned the steering wheel sharply to the left and merged himself into the line of cars that was moving past the accident, his phone buzzed—a DC number he didn’t recognize. He answered. “Yes?”
“Lazarus Yoder, I presume?”
“Who is this?”
“We’ve met before, at a certain FBI agent’s funeral.”
Levi frowned as he drove past the accident and began picking up speed. The only other person he’d met was that guy named Tim, and this wasn’t his voice.
“I’ve been watching you. I think you and I need to meet. It might be mutually beneficial.”
“How’d you get my number?”
“You’ve just passed a rather unfortunate accident. Keep going north on George Washington Memorial Parkway. I’ll be waiting for you at the OHB in Langley. I’ll send you the address. Oh, you’ll need to go through a metal detector, so to avoid any unnecessary hassle, leave any problem items in your car. Just come into the main entrance, I’ll leave your name, and someone will bring you to me.”
The line went dead.
At the end of the bridge, signs prompted him to continue on I-66 West or to take the turnoff onto the G.W. Parkway.
For a second, he hesitated, wondering who the hell could know where he was.
Then he turned right onto the parkway.
###
As Levi entered the chilled lobby of the OHB—the Old Headquarters Building as the CIA employees called it—his eyes were drawn to the huge granite CIA logo on the floor, its white shield and eagle head showing prominently against the black-and-gray-flecked granite. He crossed through the turnstile and approached one of the lobby’s receptionists—a middle-aged woman wearing a headset.
She looked up at him. “May I help you, sir?”
“Yes, my name is Levi Yoder and—”
“Yes, sir, you’re expected. Can I please see some ID?”
Levi pulled out his wallet and handed her his driver’s license.
She pressed his ID into a slot next to her terminal. His license was immediately sucked into it, a light shone from within the device, and his ID popped back out. Some red entered the woman’s cheeks as she handed his license back to him. She also handed him a visitor’s badge and motioned toward the chairs arrayed against the far section of the lobby “Someone will be coming out to escort you, Mister Yoder.”
He had no idea why he’d come here, but the way the man on the phone had talked, it made him nervous. How had did this guy known exactly where he was at that moment?
“I’ve been watching you.”
It was a wild card he hadn’t planned for.
Levi sat in the lobby for nearly five minutes before pulling out his phone. Him being here was probably a mistake. There was somewhere he really needed to be, and it was only insane curiosity that had brought him here. He texted Meet me at three to Yoshi. Yesterday, after the shooting, he’d worried about all of Yoshi’s communications being monitored, so they’d come up with a solution.
A woman’s voice echoed through the lobby. “Mister Yoder?”
Levi stood and walked over to an attractive brunette, dressed in modest business attire, but with an hourglass figure that was hard to hide. He felt a pang of guilt for looking at someone in such an appraising manner, but then he remembered … he was single. Well, he’d been single for years, then he sort of wasn’t, but Madison had made things pretty clear, and he was the type that didn’t need to be told twice.
They shook hands and she motioned for him to follow her.
“So, who am I here to see?” he asked. “That wasn’t exactly made clear to me, Miss…”
“Kubs, I’m Mindy Kubs, Director Mason’s assistant. I’ll leave the introductions to him. He’d prefer it that way.”
Levi walked through two banks of metal detectors, let someone swipe a cloth over his hands
—looking for what he’d assumed was explosive residue—and waited patiently as another security officer waved a scanner over him from head to toe.
After passing the last set of security checks, Mindy led him down what seemed to be the main corridor of the building, took a right, and made a few more turns before stopping in front of a large wood-grained door. She swiped her badge, and they entered a long wood-paneled corridor.
About fifty feet down the corridor a side door opened and a well-dressed man stepped out.
Levi immediately recognized him—the guy from the funeral. The one who’d been staring at him from the other side of the mourners.
He was short—not much more than five foot seven or so. Judging from the fine wrinkles around his eyes, and the frown lines, he was in his fifties. Light brown hair, with a slightly receding hairline, and very pale eyes that looked almost silver.
The man smiled as he shook Levi’s hand. “Do you prefer Lazarus or Levi?”
“Only my mother calls me Lazarus.”
“Very well, Levi it is. I’m Doug Mason, and I apologize for the cloak-and-dagger stuff, but you’re in the middle of something that I think we’re both interested in solving.”
Levi tilted his head and studied the man. Mason emanated a strong sense of self-assuredness. He didn’t get a sense of aggression or hostility in any way, just an air of confidence. But it set Levi on edge. It was as if Doug Mason held all the cards, knew everything, and he was doing Levi some kind of favor. The thing that bothered him was … he wasn’t sure that wasn’t the case.
“And what exactly is this thing being solved?” Levi asked.
“Let’s stop standing around in the hallway.” Mason stepped through the door into a conference room, and Levi followed. Mindy had already disappeared quietly back down the hall.
Levi stopped short as he looked around the conference room. Pictures were tacked to the walls, and more were laid out on the long conference room table. Pictures of people he knew.
Pictures of kids—his kids—at play on his parents’ farm.
A picture of his mother.
A picture of Levi sitting on a park bench with Dino.
A picture of the front of the Helmsley Arms, where he and many of the made men from the Bianchi family lived.
A picture of Levi standing on the street in Chinatown.
Him boarding a private jet at LaGuardia.
Him handcuffed in the FBI’s interrogation room.
Levi flushed with anger.
Mason picked up a remote and turned on a wall monitor. It showed an active video stream of a steering wheel.
Levi’s mouth fell open. The steering wheel to a Ford Taurus. The steering wheel of Levi’s rental car.
He couldn’t believe he was such an idiot. Somehow, this guy had managed to have someone break into his car and bug it without him even noticing. Of course they did. His car was out in the open.
Clenching his jaw muscles, he focused on the man who’d brought him in. He knew he wasn’t going to be arrested—if he were, he wouldn’t currently be in this room alone with this Mason guy.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Mason picked up one of the photos from the table. It was of Mei. “We worried about what you were doing. With all those kids.” He walked over to what looked like a tall clear garbage can with a white slotted lid. He fed the picture into the slot.
The sound of a shredder activating echoed through the room, and tiny squares of picture confetti fell into the receptacle beneath the slot.
Mason scooped up more pictures and began shredding them as he talked. “Levi, I represent an organization that’s focused on getting some things done, with less worry about the actual tactics being employed. We don’t exactly follow the same rules as some of our brethren agencies.”
“I don’t understand,” Levi said. “Obviously, you’re in some section of the CIA. You abide by the same rules and—”
“Uh, uh, uh.” Mason wagged his finger. “Don’t think that us meeting here has anything to do with my agency. Would you have come to me if I said meet me at your local Denny’s? I don’t think so.”
Levi glanced at his watch, anxiety building within him. “On that note, why did you ask me here?”
Mason sat at the table and motioned for Levi to sit as well. “I’m the director of a small organization. Each member brings to the table something I can’t find elsewhere.”
“And what’s that?”
“An angel in wolf’s clothing.”
The hairs on the back of Levi’s neck suddenly stood on end. He’d heard that turn of phrase before.
“My friend, you’re an angel in wolf’s clothing”
Vinnie had said those same words to him. Now Levi really had no idea what he was dealing with.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Mason flicked an invisible speck of dust from the lapel of his thousand-dollar suit. “It’s a very rare thing to find someone who is willing to do terrible things, but is, in actuality, an honorable person. Doing things for the right reason, even if those things are horrible.”
Levi shook his head. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, it’s more than just that. Sure, maybe we’d find a gas station attendant in Des Moines with similar attributes, but they’re likely to end up in jail. They’re not streetwise. They’d get tripped up by a polygraph.” Mason gave him a knowing smile. “They don’t have the skills needed to survive in this type of business. They’re also not in a position to think strategically. My organization doesn’t onboard the run-of-the-mill. We look for a very specialized type of people.
“For instance, I can count a dozen laws that you’ve broken by kidnapping those kids, acquiring illegal papers, falsifying federal records, interfering with police investigations, assault, the list goes on and on. But in the end, the good you did for those kids far outweighs the bad. And the way you did it, nobody will be the wiser.
“I also know that you’re preoccupied with saving Shinzo Tanaka’s granddaughter. And you’re not being paid for it.”
Levi’s words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t believe this average-looking fed knew about his arrangement with Tanaka. How was that possible? Could Vinnie be involved with this guy? A Mafia boss for one of the New York families involved with the feds? No chance.
“How can you know anything about that?”
Mason drummed his fingers on the conference room table, and a sly grin creased his features. “I know more than you think. But I do have a question about that. Why are you doing it?”
Levi shook his head. “She’s a five-year-old kid. You never answered my question. Why did you ask me here?”
“Well, I thought that was rather obvious.” Mason smiled. “I want to recruit you into service.”
Levi snorted. “Me, a fed?”
“No, not a fed. The people who work for me … correction, let’s instead say that we work together. Anyway, my people don’t carry IDs, and you won’t be part of the system. The system is compromised, as you know all too well. Too many fingers in those pots.
“Think of us as kindred spirits. We both want the same thing, and my organization can help fund some things that maybe would be hard for you to do on your own. In return, we’d ask for an occasional favor. Over time, maybe we could steer some of your energy in certain directions.”
Levi had heard this kind of scam before. The Mafia bosses did it all the time. A favor given now, means a favor requested later, and over time, you’re obligated and they own you. No chance.
“There’s no way—”
“Before you say anything, I’ve got someone for you to meet. You actually know them already.” Mason pulled a pen from his front pocket and spoke into it. “Come on in. He’s here.”
Levi’s heart began to race as a million thoughts rushed at him at once. Was Vinnie about to walk through that door? No way! Maybe Madison?
When the door open
ed, it was neither. In walked a statuesque Asian woman with long black hair.
As Levi’s mouth dropped open, so did hers.
Mason stepped in between them and smiled. “Lucy, I believe you’ve met Levi. He’s a fixer for the Bianchi family, also a polyglot, and he trained under one of the best martial artists ever to walk the earth. Levi, this is Lucy. She’s the widow of the founder of one of Hong Kong’s largest triads, she’s also a martial artist, and she has an IQ that’s off the charts.”
Levi held out his hand, but she backed away with a look of revulsion. “I told you not to touch me.” She glared at Mason. “Doug, you know I don’t like being touched.”
Mason motioned for Levi to back away with a somewhat apologetic expression. “Sorry, I guess you two would have gotten off on a better foot.”
Levi eyed the woman with confusion. This is the same chick who kissed me in the middle of the street.
Still glaring at Mason, she pointed at Levi. “He grabbed my shoulder.”
“Hey,” Levi said, “that’s not exactly how it went—”
She switched her glare to him, and he almost expected lasers or something to shoot out from her eyes.
“Okay, I guess I did grab you, and for that I apologize. But come on, I was worried you were endangering everyone I cared for. Think about it: if you found someone you don’t know is at your mom’s place with your kids, you wouldn’t be very happy either.”
Her expression softened and she glanced back and forth between Mason and Levi. Then she sniffed loudly. “Apology accepted.” She pulled out a chair, sat, and crossed her long legs. Turning to Mason she asked, “Why are we here, Doug?”
Mason pulled a set of photos from his inner suit pocket and tossed them on the table. “Here.”
Levi took a seat—making sure that there was a chair between him and the temperamental woman—and peered at the photos.
They were the same photos he’d sent to O’Connor. Did O’Connor forward them to Mason? Or was Mason so deep into the system that he plucked it from O’Connor’s inbox?
The Inside Man Page 17