I also wanted to find information regarding who Akbari was calling now. He’d gotten a new burner phone when he’d relocated to New York several weeks ago—a number I’d basically strong-armed him into giving me at the conclusion of our interview—and, as far as I could tell, that number wasn’t on the FBI’s radar. It wasn’t included in their databases yet, at any rate. I doubted any of the Feebs were even looking at him. I’d only gotten a hit on his old number because of the open case on Fallahi. If a confidential informant hadn’t identified that burner phone as Fallahi’s and if someone hadn’t subpoenaed Fallahi’s phone records and uploaded the results to the network server, I wouldn’t have even gotten that far.
And whether it had any ties to an FBI case or not, I needed to know who Akbari was talking to on that new burner phone. I was particularly fascinated with the very first call Akbari had made once Meaghan and I left his apartment the night we’d interviewed him. I was fairly certain he would’ve called someone. We’d made him nervous with our inquiries, and he’d have wanted to be reassured he wasn’t about to be thrown into a federal prison. I was dying to know who he’d reached out to for that reassurance.
I picked up the hardline telephone at my desk and awkwardly dialed a number from memory. Listening to it ring, I continued to scratch notes onto my notepad.
“Counterterrorism. Popovic.” Assistant United States Attorney Gregor Popovic sounded distracted as he answered.
“Hey, Greg. It’s Ryan O’Connor. How are you?” I hoped whatever I was interrupting wasn’t too important. I also prayed that whatever had his attention wouldn’t so overshadow my request that he completely forgot to do what I asked.
“Hey, Ryan. What’s up…Wait!” I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, and I cringed, knowing where this was going. “Didn’t you get…I mean, I thought I heard…Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Greg. I’m fine.” Please don’t ask me anything else. Please, please, ple—
“So, is it true?”
“Is what true?” Why hadn’t it occurred to me he was going to have a million and one questions? Why hadn’t I just sent him an email? He was going to ask for one with all the details anyway. I should’ve just jumped straight to that.
He cleared his throat, and a brief, awkward pause on his end followed. “Did you really get shot?”
“It’s true. I really did get shot.”
“And you’re back to work already?” He sounded surprised.
“I’m on light duty,” I told him, though that wasn’t strictly true. I was probably still listed as being on sick leave, but that didn’t have any bearing on this situation. “I can’t carry a weapon or participate in…Well, anything, really. But I can do paperwork.”
“Wow. Well, I’m really glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks.”
“So, what can I do for you?”
“I need you to cut subpoenas for a couple of phone numbers for me. The quicker we can get these results, the better.”
“No problem. Just email me a quick synopsis of the case and the info you’re looking for, and I’ll have them to you before I leave for the day.”
“Thanks, Greg. I really appreciate it.”
“Any time, Ryan. Take it easy, okay? I want to lock up Jhalawan soon,” he told me, referring to one of my other cases. “And I don’t want to do it until you’re ready. I want you to be the one to put the cuffs on him.”
I laughed. “You and me both. I’ll hit you up the second I’m cleared for full duty.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, Greg.”
I hung up and went to work drafting the email he’d requested. With any luck, I’d have the results by the end of the week, and then the picture of this scheme would come into sharper focus. And in the meantime, while I waited, I’d just have to come up with a way to occupy myself so I didn’t drive myself crazy feeling guilty about Lucia and confused about whatever the hell was going on with Allison.
Somehow, I suspected that’d be easier said than done.
CHAPTER THREE
Now that I’d gotten the ball rolling again on this investigation, I didn’t want to waste any more time. Sure, I probably should’ve gone home to get some sleep, but that concept had largely been eluding me for days anyway. I couldn’t think of a good reason not to put it off for just a little while longer. Not when I had questions I needed answered. So instead of going home, I headed back to NYFO.
The Secret Service is different from almost every other law-enforcement agency I’ve ever worked with in that we’re all a lot closer to one another than agents from other entities. Not just the New Yorkers, either. The entire outfit is that way. Our protective mission necessitates that we spend a great deal of time with each other outside the normal confines of our jobs. We travel together, we eat together, and occasionally we have to sleep together. Actual sleeping, not sex, although that does happen on occasion, too, as Allison and I can attest. We also tend to hang out with one another a lot more on our off time than agents from other organizations do. It really is like a family.
And in the spirit of family, I decided it was time I sought out the man I saw as my big brother to help me piece all of this together. I had a few questions about that counterfeit note Sarah had sent me a picture of that I needed his opinion on. If anybody could help me understand this whole case, it’d be him.
I rapped my knuckles lightly on his doorjamb to get his attention, secretly relieved he was actually in. Time had gotten away from me, and I hadn’t realized how late it was until I noticed the lack of bodies and noise as I made my way to his office. I was lucky to catch him.
“Rico?”
Rico looked up from his desk, surprise etched on his handsome face. He blinked at me once, and then a broad smile broke across his features. Immediately, he was on his feet and coming out from behind his desk to enfold me in a gigantic hug.
I tensed, trying not to hiss too loudly from the pain his embrace sparked in me. I didn’t want him to know he’d hurt me, and the emotional benefits of the clinch far outweighed the physical detriments.
When Rico finally pulled back, he kept his hands on my biceps and held me at arm’s length. His gaze was critical as he studied me. He narrowed his eyes slightly and pursed his lips.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what the hell are you doing here?”
I rolled my eyes and deftly stepped out of his grasp so I could settle myself into the chair on the opposite side of his desk. “I missed you, Rico. And I simply couldn’t stand to be apart from you for even another minute. What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants.”
Rico smirked. “Very funny.”
“Okay, you got me. I’m not actually here for you. I came to ask permission to date your wife.”
“Now that I wish was the truth.” Rico cocked his head to the side and scrutinized me intently, his dark eyes searching. “She’s been asking about you. She wanted to visit you when you were in the hospital, but I managed to stop her. I knew you wouldn’t want her to see you like that.”
I grinned at the thought of Rico’s fiery spouse. “Yeah, she told me. In language way too colorful for an innocent girl like that to know. I’d yell at you for corrupting her, but I kinda think you deserved all the things she was saying about you.”
“Funny you should mention that. Because several of the phrases she used to lambast me sounded exactly like things you’ve said to me on occasion. So, if anyone could be accused of corruption here, I think it’s you.”
“You’ll have to prove it. And Paige will never give me up.”
“Sisters before misters?”
I laughed, unable to believe those words had actually come out of his mouth. “Something like that.”
“So, now that you’ve been unleashed on the world at large, please tell me you’ll let my wife come over to cook for you and generally dote on you and shower you with affection. I’m fairly certain I’ll never have sex again
if you say no.”
I pretended to consider it, rubbing my bottom lip with my thumb as I attempted to hide my grin. I was enjoying watching him squirm. I probably would’ve let it go on a little longer, too, if he hadn’t used the wounded-puppy-dog eyes. I laughed again.
“Oh, my God. You’re pathetic. I can’t believe you need my help to get laid. Step up your game, man! Okay, okay. Fine. She can come over. But not tonight.”
“You got a hot date or something?”
I ignored the dull ache that blossomed inside me. He had no idea how much I wished that were true, and I refused to tell him. “If you can call arguing with my sister—which is probably what I’ll be doing—a date, sure.”
Rico’s expression turned mischievous, and he shot me a sly grin. “Your twin sister?”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Yes, my twin sister. And for the hundredth time, no, you can’t meet her.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But why?”
“Because I don’t trust you with her, that’s why. God only knows what you’ll tell her. And I don’t need her getting any ideas. The woman has enough dirt on me as it is.”
“Ryan. Come on. I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Now I know you’re lying. Since when you have ever been good? Does that whining work on Paige?”
Rico feigned hurt. “Hey! I do not now, nor have I ever whined. I sweet-talk.”
“Well, then, you had to know that wasn’t going to work on me because I’m immune to your charms.”
“I just persuaded you to let Paige and me come over,” Rico reminded me, looking way too smug for my tastes.
“I said Paige could come over. I never said anything about you.”
“We’re a package deal. She’d be lost without me.”
“Yeah, because she wouldn’t know what to do with all her newly acquired free time. She’s used to spending most of her waking hours cleaning up after you.”
“True. But she knew what she was getting into when she married me.”
“I’m still not convinced she wasn’t coerced somehow. I’ve launched a formal investigation into the matter.”
“Because you aren’t busy enough. Seriously, though, what the hell are you doing here so late? Most of the office went home hours ago.”
“I could ask you the same thing.” Not that I wasn’t thrilled he’d been here because I seriously doubted I’d have been able to force myself to wait until the next day to have this chat with him, but it was pretty late for him to still be at his desk.
Rico’s lips twisted into a mirthless smile. “I’m the midnight response guy. Well, one of them. I just came in to grab a quick workout before my shift started.”
“They still make a big shot like you take response shifts?” I’d just spied the assignment board hanging adjacent to his desk and glimpsed who his partner was for the evening.
“Yeah, well, someone has to show the rookies how it’s done.”
“Good thing they paired you up with Eric Banks then, huh? What’s with all the midnight shifts, anyway? Is he being punished again?”
Rico snorted and rolled his eyes. “When isn’t he being punished?”
Eric Banks was only a couple months out of the academy and still as green as the Emerald Isle but not smart enough to recognize or accept it. In short, he was an absolute pain in the ass. And everybody in the office knew it. “What’d he do to piss you off now?”
“Not just me. The SAIC of Hurricane’s detail.”
I grimaced and sucked in a hissing breath between my teeth. It’s never a good idea to land on any SAIC’s radar for screwing up. It’s even worse when you piss off the SAIC of another office or division. That’s the fastest way to end up with numerous bosses looking to end you. “Ooh. That’s not good.”
“You know what else isn’t good? Driving the president’s daughter with one hand while drinking coffee with the other.”
“He didn’t!”
“He did. He also turned down the wrong street, and the motorcade ended up having to square the block.”
“Shit! Didn’t he check the route before they left?”
“Nope. And apparently he had plenty of time to do it, too. Which is part of why SAIC Quinn is so pissed.”
“Understandable. Why was he driving Hurricane anyway? Shouldn’t one of the detail guys have been doing it?”
“Normally, yes. But one of them had a family emergency come up while Hurricane was at an event, so they snagged Banks off post to have him drive the limo back to the res.” He shook his head. “All he had to do was make it one mile without fucking up, and he couldn’t even manage that.”
I hummed in the back of my throat. “So why’s he working response with you instead of manning the duty desk?”
Rico scowled. “Because apparently he’s managed to make a mess of that, too, so they don’t want him up there.”
“How do you mess up midnight duty desk? Nothing’s going on.”
“You fail to answer the phone when the alarm company calls to report that the alarm’s going off at the warehouse where we store the hard cars. Which means you fail to send the response guys to check that everything’s okay. And the AT of Special Operations ends up getting a call at home in the middle of the night.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah, it’s been a real treat around here lately,” Rico quipped. “But I doubt you’re here to check up on Banks. So what’s up?”
I slid the printout of the counterfeit hundred Akbari had passed in the grocery store in Maryland a few weeks prior out of the envelope in my hand and handed both to him. I’d already examined it myself and had formulated a theory regarding its origins, but I wanted Rico’s take on it. “What can you tell me about this?”
Rico took the offered document without comment and studied it, his brows pulled down in concentration as he scoured the page. Some of the details he no doubt wanted to verify were indistinguishable on the photocopy, and he was touching key places on the images with the tips of his fingers. Sarah had thoughtfully made notes on the page with a pen, pointing out all the flaws in the bill that made it easily identifiable as a fake, but I knew Rico well enough to know he still longed to see them with his own eyes.
I watched him in silence as he studied the image, smiling at his contemplative expression. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed working with him. I’d always had such a blast storyboarding cases with him. We worked well together, and I’d always felt we could get to the bottom of any case if only we could put our bickering on hold long enough to give it proper attention.
Rico interrupted my reflection. “Did you look this up in the system yet?”
“Nope. I wanted to get your opinion first. I wish I had the original, but Sarah couldn’t send it up to us without involving proper channels. Chain of custody and all that.”
Rico was studying the printout again and appeared to be only half listening. He shook his head absently. “Nah. It’s fine. She made really good notes. I think I can get what I need from them.”
I leaned back in his chair, struggling to find a semi-comfortable sitting position. Wincing, I pulled at the strap of my sling with my left hand so I could move my right arm a little, simultaneously grimacing at and reveling in the pull of muscles. Then I rubbed the sore spot on my neck where the nylon kept chafing. Finally, I crossed my right knee over my left and bobbed my foot as I waited.
“Is it something you’ve seen before?” I wanted to know.
Rico took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It is, yes. This is an updated version of the old Iranian note.”
The room suddenly seemed unreasonably warm, which contrasted sharply with the icy consistency of the surface of my skin, and I heard a distant sort of buzzing in my ears. I uncrossed my legs gracelessly, and my foot hit the floor with a dull thud. My left arm fell at the same time, and my hand curled around the arms of the chair so hard my palm ached.
Rico merely went on, clearly o
blivious to my distress. I wasn’t sure if he’d even picked up on the implications of what he’d just said. “You can see the changes they made here and here to make it more passable.” He gestured to the spots in question with the tip of his pen. “But they haven’t managed to correct this flaw here”—another indication—“that has always been the signature on this type of note. I’m beginning to think they haven’t noticed it. Or they don’t think we have. Anyway, we’ve been seeing it up here a lot in the past few months, but I didn’t realize WFO was seeing this new version in DC already.”
“What did you just say?” My voice was a harsh whisper I could barely hear over the rapid-fire staccato of my heart. The pounding underscored the buzzing in my ears quite nicely.
“Hmm?” Rico finally looked up from the paper, his expression vaguely puzzled.
“What did you just say? About the Iranian note?”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s what this is. The latest version of the Iranian note.”
I’d thought as much when I’d first seen it, but I’d been out of the counterfeit game for a while now. Those changes he’d just remarked on had given me pause, had made me doubt my initial gut instincts, and I’d needed him to confirm my suspicions. Fuck. Sometimes I really hated being right.
If I believed in coincidences, I’d have remarked that this sure was one hell of one. Unfortunately I didn’t. No freaking way was I buying that the counterfeit bill I’d been looking into that just happened to be linked to Iranians had absolutely nothing to do with the recent assassination attempt on the president of Iran. Not even with a leprechaun, a four-leaf clover, and a whole box of Lucky Charms did stars align like that if they weren’t somehow related.
Worthy of Trust and Confidence Page 3