Harvey Bennett Mysteries: Books 4-6

by Nick Thacker

  Reggie nodded in compliance, then waited for Joshua and Ben to stand up.

  Derrick hung back, rummaging through his bags. Reggie knew he would want to try as much as possible to leave the room as empty as he could. Not possible, but at least Derrick could retrieve anything that might point back to him.

  The man would have booked the set of rooms under a pseudonym, which would put the hotel and SWAT teams behind a few precious hours. By the time they traced the rooms back to the FBI — if they did — the FBI would have commenced their damage-control mode: preparing their press statements and cover stories, effectively getting Roger Derrick off the hook.

  Whether Derrick would take flack back at the main office, Reggie couldn’t know. He imagined the man’s boss wouldn’t be terribly excited that a small reconnaissance and intelligence gathering mission like this one had blown up.

  But that wasn’t Reggie’s problem. Derrick had probably anticipated this, or at least something like this. He was, after all, FBI.

  At least he says he’s FBI.

  Reggie hadn’t yet decided if he believed the man or not. So far the guy seemed to be on their side, on the level. He was playing his cards slowly, but he was playing them nonetheless. Reggie knew the FBI folk to be a finicky bunch, secretive and slow to dish out information. For that, Derrick fit the bill.

  They jogged to the end of the hallway and found the door to the staircase. Swinging it open, Ben held it and waited for the other two men to pass through. Reggie glanced back at the room and was surprised to see their new FBI friend already making his way out into the hallway. He held a large case in one hand — likely the gun case he’d had earlier — and a smaller briefcase in the other.

  “Right behind you,” Derrick shouted. “I’ll catch up.”

  Reggie nodded and turned to the stairway. Joshua was already making his way down, descending to the street level.

  Reggie’s mind suddenly flashed back to the last time they were together making their way down a staircase. Antarctica, earlier that year, a small Chinese army and an equal number of enemy station guards all trying to shoot them down. They’d escaped — narrowly — and lived to tell about it.

  But Julie had been with them then.

  He hoped Ben wasn’t thinking similar thoughts.

  As he reached the next level down, Derrick reached the flight above him. The large man swung the door back closed again, the loud slam of it echoing throughout the metal and concrete stairwell.

  “Keep moving,” Derrick said. “I thought I heard the elevator door opening right before I got in here.”

  Chapter FORTY

  JUST AS DERRICK HAD PROMISED, the yogurt shop sat on the corner of 20th Street and Locust Street, a narrow little storefront that backed up against a few other shops that all shared a common landlord.

  Reggie wasn’t a huge fan of yogurt, especially since the ‘yogurt craze’ had erupted in America. To him it seemed more of a thing designed for stay-at-home moms and hip high schoolers than an actual dessert. When he got ice cream, it was far from soft-serve: mounds of rocky road piled high with M&Ms and drizzled with hot caramel.

  The thought brought a smile to his face. He’d have to check if there was a real ice cream shop nearby, if they had the time after this mess was over.

  “Reggie, you good?” Ben’s voice reached Reggie’s ears and brought him back. The yogurt shop’s trendy decor and bright lights were jarring, juxtaposing a false sense of hope on top of their dim reality.

  He nodded. “Yeah, Ben, I’m good. How are you holding up?”

  Ben shrugged.

  “Yeah, I feel you.”

  “Okay,” Joshua said, cutting in. “We’re all here. Let’s get some chairs into a circle and I’ll set up Derrick’s iPad with a call back to Mr. E.”

  Reggie and Derrick immediately started arranging the chairs in the empty shop, and the shopkeeper — a small, Asian man — seemed to sense that the men weren’t here for yogurt. He wiped down a countertop, then disappeared into the back of the store. The group all sat, a single chair in the center of a circle. Reggie rotated his chair around and sat in it backwards.

  “Before we call Mr. E,” Ben said, “let’s figure out who you really are.”

  Derrick frowned. “Me?”

  “You’re FBI?”

  “I really am.”

  “Why have you been holding things back from us then?” Ben asked.

  Reggie smiled. “Because he’s FBI, Ben. That’s what they do.”

  Derrick didn’t seem to appreciate the joke, and he quickly began explaining. “I have not been holding anything back from you for any reason other than this: I had a feeling Daris had hired a security crew, and I wanted to make sure you were not in danger, or that you weren’t her security crew.”

  “Thanks for that,” Joshua said. “I understand where you’re coming from, but we’re in this now. Together.”

  “Right,” Derrick said, leaning forward and working out a kink in his neck. “What do you want to know?”

  “Where are they taking Julie?” Ben asked, jumping in.

  Derrick shook his head. “I don’t know. I have no information on this group that Daris hired, or where they’re headquartered. It could be here in town, or it could be anywhere. You knew their leader, The Hawk?”

  Reggie nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know him anymore. Your guess is as good as mine as to where they’re keeping her.”

  Ben shifted to address Derrick. “Well have your grunts start looking. Don’t you have technology for that?”

  “We don’t have the technology or resources for that. No offense, Harvey — it’s not like we’re dealing with the kidnapping of a president, here.”

  “Then have a team sent out!” Ben snapped. “You’ve got to be able to do something.”

  Derrick held up a hand, looking around the shop to see if anyone else had appeared. The shopkeeper was still absent, likely holed up in a back office watching their conversation on a security monitor. “I know how you feel, Harvey, believe me. But still, I can’t make this investigation about something it’s not.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Reggie saw Ben’s eyes flash around the circle of chairs to the other men. He was trying to piece it together, just like Reggie had. Joshua knew, and Reggie knew as well.

  Joshua spoke next. “Ben, it means the FBI is only interested in their case. Julie’s now a part of that case, but she’s not the most important part.”

  Ben looked shocked, and hurt. “But she’s gone, and you’re telling me —”

  “I’m telling you we’ll find her,” Reggie said. “But it’s going to be on our own, or it’s going to be with Derrick’s help.”

  “And the only way Derrick’s going to help us — the only way he can help us — is if he’s working the case.”

  Reggie looked at Derrick to confirm, and Derrick nodded solemnly.

  “I can’t say it’s ideal, Ben,” Derrick said. “But it is what it is. I need to protect whatever it is Daris is after first, and only then can I help you out.”

  “Then we’ll do it on our own,” Ben said, preparing to stand. “Just like you said. ‘We do it with or without this FBI guy,’ right? So let’s do it without him.”

  “Not that easy, Ben,” Joshua said.

  “Yeah? Why? Why is it never that easy?”

  “Because whatever Daris is after is something she was willing to have her security force take Julie for. Meaning she’s planning to use Julie as a bargaining chip somehow.”

  “Or as a way to get us to do something for her,” Reggie added.

  “Julie’s a part of the same thing everyone’s after,” Derrick said.

  “So we help Derrick, we find Julie. We all work together on this one.”

  Ben nodded. “I understand, but I still don’t understand. What are we after?”

  Reggie wasn't sure of the answer to that question, and he knew Joshua wasn’t sure, either. Whatever it was it was worth killing —
or kidnapping — for, and that made it something that was very likely a valuable prize.

  “Well,” Derrick said. “Do you remember what Daris said on GMA this morning?”

  “About Jefferson? That he used money that wasn’t his?”

  “Correct. Specifically that he used money that wasn’t his or the nation’s. Money he found from a Spanish treasure fleet that sank in 1715.”

  “You think this is about gold?”

  “I think it’s about proof. Proof that there was gold, and that it was used to purchase the Louisiana Territory.”

  He looked at all of them in turn, then slowly, deliberately, sat up and leaned forward.

  “But that’s not really what this is about. The gold is what she’s saying this is, to generate goodwill and to win over any of the silent majority who might want to join her side.”

  Reggie leaned in, pushing his backwards chair up onto the back two legs.

  “I think Daris has already found something, and she’s been following the trail left by Lewis in his secret journal to find more of it.”

  “More of what?”

  Derrick paused, sucking his lips together, and Reggie knew he was silently debating whether or not he should play this final card he had in his pocket. Finally he leaned in a bit as well, nearly touching foreheads with Reggie.

  “Have you ever heard of the plant, Borrachero?”

  Chapter FORTY-ONE

  “BORA-WHAT?” BEN ASKED.

  “BORRACHERO,” Derrick said. “A plant, native to Columbia. It’s very common there, grows just about everywhere.”

  “And Daris found some growing on the Lewis and Clark trail?”

  Derrick shook his head. “No — well, not really. But I believe she’s found something like it. Another strain, maybe of the same genus, but definitely with similar properties.”

  Ben’s heart sank. “And what, exactly, are these ‘properties?’”

  “Well, have you ever heard of the date-rape drug?”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah, the pill they slip into your drink at parties… and then you wake up the next day. No idea what happened the night before.”

  “Right,” Derrick said. “But it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “‘Date-rape’ drugs are really a whole class of chemicals, from alcohol to the more powerful barbiturates. They’re really just a classification of things that cause those effects. Have a high-enough dosage of Ambien, actually, and you’re out.”

  The men sitting around Derrick nodded.

  “Well those drugs are all baby versions of the mother chemical of all date-rape drug chemicals, scopolamine. It’s used in extremely small doses as Hyoscine in things like sleep medicine and motion sickness medicine, like the patch you wear which releases the scopolamine slowly on a set schedule.”

  “So this Borrachero plant has scopolamine in it?” Joshua asked.

  “It does, but in far higher concentrations than what’s considered safe. In the past few years, reports have been coming out of Columbia that scopolamine-laced items like business cards, gas pumps, and ATM machines have been incapacitating people.”

  “But not killing them?” Ben asked.

  “Not always. Not usually, actually. The drug has been used by gangs and organized warfare to control their targets. The person wakes up, doesn’t remember a thing.”

  Ben swallowed, thinking about Julie. He wanted to ask, but couldn’t.

  Reggie asked. “You think Daris’ team has this stuff?”

  “It’s not hard to get,” Derrick said, nodding. “I’m almost positive she’s got a team of scientists working on it. Like I said, it’s readily available thanks to the hardy plant that produces it. It can be grown just about anywhere, and it’s cheap.”

  “But we already have ‘date-rape drugs,’” Reggie said, making air-quotes around the words. “Even if this stuff is more powerful than what we’ve already got, how is it a national security threat?”

  “Well, first of all, I don’t think you understand the amount of scopolamine that it takes to have an effect. As little as half a milligram will knock someone out, and any more than that will take their memory away.”

  “Woah,” Reggie said. “So a few more milligrams would kill someone.”

  “Absolutely, and it has. The bad guys down in Columbia have been using somewhere between 2 and 5 milligrams to not only render their victims helpless, but in a conscious state at the same time. They can then give them commands, and the person will execute them without argument.”

  Ben’s nostrils flared, and he gritted his teeth. “And they don’t remember it the next day.”

  “And they don’t remember it the next day,” Derrick said. “Last big case I heard about was in Bogota. A woman had her newborn baby boy stolen from her, right out of her arms. She was found three days later, muttering to herself and walking on the highway, topless.”

  Ben’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

  “Wish I was. They’re calling it a ‘zombie drug.’ In those concentrations, if it doesn’t kill, it really messes you up.”

  “No shit,” Reggie said, muttering under his breath. “Wow.”

  “So I think Daris has stumbled onto something important, something that the Spanish themselves wanted to keep secret.”

  “Something the Spanish wanted,” Joshua said.

  “Exactly. They wanted it so bad they sent eleven ships to retrieve it. They loaded up the ships with gold and silver, and other treasures, but also some of those borrachero plant, to take it all back to Spain.”

  “The Spanish Treasure Fleet of 1715,” Ben said.

  “Right again. They wanted to use it as a weapon, no doubt, to see if they could refine it, perfect it. Maybe figure out how many different ways they could deploy it. It would have been one of the world’s first — and most effective — chemical weapons.”

  “An entire population under its spell, doing whatever you told it to,” Joshua said.

  “If you were in proximity to them, and could command them all, sure,” Derrick said. “But even as a one-off chemical agent, one that could be deployed in teas, smoked like tobacco, or brushed onto someone’s skin from a piece of paper.”

  Ben shook his head. “Daris wants to use it on Julie.”

  “No, Ben,” Derrick said, touching Ben’s shoulder. “We don’t know that. And there’s no reason to suspect that she would. But I do believe that’s really what Daris is looking for — a cache of this stuff that whoever found the Spanish fleet brought back to Jefferson, who promptly wanted it hidden, and sent Meriwether Lewis to hide away.”

  “Fine,” Ben said. “But I’m not convinced that Julie’s safe from it. She’s certainly not safe at all, for that matter. So let’s figure out how to find her.”

  Chapter FORTY-TWO

  MISTAKES HAD BEEN MADE, THERE was no doubt about that. But they still had the girl, the pretty little lady who seemed to be just feisty enough to make it worthwhile.

  The Hawk had planned on grabbing the FBI agent. He’d wanted to bring him back to the gym, string him up in the chair, and get what he could from him. It would take time to make the big man fall, but when they were done with him he’d be every bit as willing to serve The Hawk as the rest of his men.

  He was now two men down, but that was already being remedied. He had ordered Joseph Mikel, one of his longest-serving men, to work on finding the replacements for Velacruz and Jenkins, whose bodies were currently being disposed of.

  He’d decided after he’d left the hotel with Juliette that a perfect test for the men next in line to join his team would be to eliminate the remainder of the threat to his client. He originally hadn’t wanted to take out the rest of the FBI man’s team, as he wasn’t sure what sort of mess that might cause him, but after weighing his options, and realizing that Julie would be more than enough of a bargaining chip with his boss if he needed one, he decided to send in more men to finish the job.

 
Mikel’s call had lasted no more than thirty seconds; the man he’d called had been in the area for two weeks, hoping for an appointment to The Hawk’s team. He told them where Julie’s group had been staying, and how long they had been there.

  The man had confirmed with Mikel that he was ready for the job, and he confirmed that he would contact the other five men The Hawk wanted to test. It would be a test of their abilities, but it was also a test of their leadership. Mikel gave The Hawk the thumbs-up sign from the side of the gym, letting him know the deed had been done, and the group of men would be ready within the hour.

  He placed his attention back on the center of the gym.

  The girl might not know as much as the FBI agent, but she would provide much more entertainment for the rest of his men when it was done. Maybe he’d even allow them some well-deserved entertainment before they were done with the interrogation. Perhaps even he himself might need some entertainment. Since he had all but removed such temptation from his life, he needed little of the opposite sex to keep him company, but when he did it was not a challenge to find someone willing.

  Vicente Garza knew he was a good-looking man, at least better than average. He had black hair, cut short but not in a negligent sort of way. He kept it a bit longer in the front, as he liked the Roman-esque way it hung down over his forehead, tiny little strips of hair that gave him a George Clooney-type look.

  His face was surprisingly pockmark free, especially considering his past and his history as a soldier. He’d been in plenty of live-fire missions, and many more clandestine operations that had hardened and weathered him over the years.

  But he was a more powerful man from it, and he felt his look showed it. He had the look of a man with experience, with passion, and the look of a man with confidence. Not a swagger, like Morrison’s overconfident attitude often appeared, but one of quiet confidence that the other men respected and responded to.

  This woman, Juliette Richardson, would come to respect and respond to it as well. She would be difficult at first, pushing back when the time for questions came, but she would eventually crack.