While I’d been sad to see her go, a small part of me was relieved she wouldn’t be around for what lay ahead. I was having enough trouble coming to grips with the reality of the situation. The last thing I needed was the distraction of her presence. I really needed to be on my A game for this.
I quickly printed out copies of all the emails I’d exchanged with Greg on the subject of the phone calls, as well as all the emails and documents I’d received from Sarah relating to Akbari. I already had hard copies of the subpoena results, as well as the printouts of the building entry logs and the list of who’d been assigned to work the Iran delegation for all their visits during the past few years. Pausing only long enough to throw everything into a folder and snag a blank legal pad, I fled back to the relative safety of my apartment.
To say I was a little on edge would’ve been the understatement of the century. From the time I’d set foot outside to the time I was safely back home, I’d been keyed up and jumpy. Every unexpected noise had made me start. Every eye that lingered on me too long on the street had made me tense. I’d have given anything to have the peace of mind that carrying my weapon had provided me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d relied on that sense of security until now.
Once I was safe in my apartment with a doorman and a locked door between me and potential death, I started making a chart and organizing all my documents in a way to make it easy for the AUSA to follow. I didn’t want to leave any room for doubt. I wanted to be able to answer any question he put to me quickly and convincingly. I could only pray it’d be enough for him to issue a warrant for Mark’s arrest. SAIC Quinn’s certainty that it would helped to ease my mind. Well, somewhat.
A knock on my door interrupted my arts-and-crafts session, and I froze, my lukewarm cup of coffee halfway to my lips. Well, my body froze. My heart, on the other hand, began a wild gallop that would’ve put Seattle Slew to shame. Gingerly, I set the coffee mug down and reached for my gun, wincing both at the tug the motion produced in my shoulder and at the realization I wasn’t wearing it. You’d have thought I’d have been used to its absence by now, but clearly years of wearing it every day overrode common sense.
I cast around my living room for some sort of weapon just as the knocking sounded again. Whoever was at my door had made it past the doorman downstairs. Normally, the front desk called up to verify that all visitors and deliveries were expected and welcomed. That I hadn’t received a call led me to believe that whoever my uninvited guest was, they’d badged their way past the front desk. Considering that the man who wanted me dead possessed a badge, the notion didn’t fill me with a warm, fuzzy feeling.
Snagging the largest butcher knife I owned out of the block on my kitchen counter on the way by, I crept to the door. My palms had started to sweat, necessitating a quick swipe against the leg of my pants to dry them and a readjustment of my grip on my makeshift weapon. Licking my lips, I chanced a quick glance through the peephole to see who was in the hall.
At first I didn’t recognize the slight figure standing with its back to me clad in a dark raincoat with the hood pulled up. I blinked and took another look through the peephole as the figure turned. The relief that flooded me when I finally realized it was SAIC Quinn threatened to knock me off my feet. I fumbled with the locks a bit before throwing the door open wide to grant her entrance.
“SAIC Quinn,” I said, flushing at my surely disheveled state.
SAIC Quinn favored me with a puzzled look as she stepped inside and pushed the hood back off her head. “Claudia, please. I thought I told you that last night. Are you okay?” Her eyes flicked uncertainly to the knife in my hand and then back up to me.
I blushed harder and hastened to deposit the knife on my kitchen counter. “Sorry about that. It’s just I wasn’t expecting anyone, and you know…”
SAIC Quinn—Claudia—shut and locked the door behind her. Her expression now was knowing and sympathetic. “You’re right. I should’ve called first. I’m sorry.”
“Please, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I hope I didn’t scare you.”
She grinned at me. “Are you kidding me? I used to live in Crown Heights back in the day. An upset woman with a butcher knife is the least of my concerns.”
I laughed at her dark joke. “Can I offer you anything to drink or eat?”
“Coffee would be great, if you have any.”
I went about fixing her a cup, recalling how she’d prepared it for herself the night before. “So, not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you were going to call me with a place to meet you in a couple hours.”
Claudia accepted the offered mug and followed me to the living room, where she took a seat on the couch beside me. She took off her raincoat and adjusted the rubber band that held her hair. “I was. But then it occurred to me that having you leave your apartment might not be the best idea.”
The blood in my veins turned to ice. “You think I’m being followed.” It wasn’t a new idea—hell, I’d been keyed up by the notion all morning—but for some reason hearing her say it out loud still gave me chills.
“I can’t say for certain you are,” Claudia said. “But I thought it best not to tempt fate.”
I nodded slowly, and then a sharp sliver of terror pierced my heart. “Allison,” I gasped softly.
Claudia regarded me with a quizzical look.
“She came looking for me at the office last night. She spent the night here. She left early this morning to go back to DC. What if she—” I clamped my lips together and swallowed hard, unable to even finish the thought.
Claudia put her coffee cup down and rested a reassuring hand on my arm. “Ryan, relax. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“You can’t know that. I have to call her.” I reached for my cell phone.
“By all means, if it makes you feel better. But let me remind you that Allison spending the night here isn’t necessarily going to raise any red flags with anyone. I mean, it’s not exactly a secret that you’re together. Mark won’t think her being here has anything to do with him.”
“I know that,” I told her as I waited for my cell-phone provider to connect the call to Allison’s cell. “But he tried to have me killed, which means he’s desperate. And we both know the lengths desperate people will go to.”
“True. But he also doesn’t know you’re onto him, so we’ve got that point in our favor.”
I didn’t answer. My entire being was focused on my phone, and I lamented that it took damn near forever for a call to connect sometimes. Allison’s phone went straight to voice mail. Okay. That wasn’t necessarily a reason to panic. Maybe the train was in one of the underground stations along the way. My mind whirled as I attempted to recall what time her train was supposed to leave and calculate roughly where she should be at the moment, if the train was running on schedule. It was too much to contemplate, so I gave up and shifted my energy to trying not to freak out. “Trying” being the operative word. I left what I hoped was a regular-sounding message asking her to call me when she could and put the phone back on the table. I slumped into the cushions of the couch and let out a long, slow breath.
Claudia shot me another sympathetic look and shifted her attention to the piles of papers on my coffee table. She inclined her head in their direction. “Is this everything?”
I forcibly tamped down on my near terror that something had happened to Allison and attempted to banish that feeling. I definitely wasn’t completely caught up on sleep yet, but what rest I’d managed to get the previous evening seemed to have restored some of my normal self-control. I was still scared for her, but I was able to push past that fear enough so I could concentrate on the task at hand.
“It’s everything I have.” I was thankful I’d almost finished compiling all the documents into order just before she’d knocked. “I hope it’s enough.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
We spent a considerable amount of time going over everything from beginning
to end. As I presented each new piece of evidence to her, I studied her face for any telltale expression—good or bad. Unfortunately, she’d been an agent way too long, and her countenance gave away absolutely nothing of her thoughts. Shame. I’d have liked to have some indication.
“Well?” I asked finally. I’d shown her everything, and she’d sat quietly for quite some time after I finished. I hated to rush her, but this was sort of a life-and-death matter. “What do you think?”
“Are we waiting on anything else?”
“Yes. Subpoena information on the two telephone numbers Golzar had contact with just prior to the shooting, including cell-tower information. I asked for those just before I came to see you last night. Given the circumstances, the AUSA said he would put a rush on it for me.”
The ghost of a smile dusted Claudia’s lips. “Good thinking.”
I lifted my good shoulder in a half shrug. “I figured if one of them belonged to the shooter, the cell-site information would confirm it. I didn’t know the other phone was Mark’s when I asked, but cell-site info will help us confirm it’s his, too. I just don’t know how long it’ll take to get those results.”
Claudia’s smile widened, a sly, almost predatory gleam in her eyes. “We’ll have them before the warrant is cut, I promise you.”
“Really?”
“Do you honestly think that between me and the chief of the Counterterrorism Division of the Assistant United States Attorney’s Office, there’s anything we can’t get when we want it?”
Now I was grinning. “No. I guess not.”
“So, what’s this, then?” Claudia asked, sliding the photos Meaghan had taken the night of the Akbari interview out of the envelope they’d been residing in for the past couple of weeks. She spread them out on the table in front of her and studied them.
“Oh. One of my colleagues, Meaghan Bates, took those on the streets around Akbari’s apartment the night we went to talk to him. She’s big into photography and had some fancy night-vision stuff she wanted to test.”
“Hmmm.” Claudia’s eyes were roving over the pictures, and she sounded distracted.
“We actually had to wait a while until after we’d left for it to get completely dark before she could take them,” I told her, more to fill the silence than to actually impart any useful information. “I hadn’t wanted to, honestly, but Meaghan had done a favor for me by even coming out there so—”
“Did you look at these?”
“Briefly, the day after she took them. Why?”
“Do me a favor and examine them again? Maybe, in light of everything you know now that you didn’t know then, something’ll jump out at you.”
“Okay.” I took the offered photos and started perusing them. Claudia contented herself with sipping her coffee and checking her emails on her BlackBerry while I looked. At first glance, nothing struck any particular chord with me, but I figured since I had time to kill, I might as well take one more, closer look.
I got up to grab something out of my bag and was met with a curious glance from Claudia as I sat back down. I flashed her a smile and held up the object in my hand. It was the loupe I used to use to examine counterfeit currency. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”
Claudia’s countenance was one of mild surprise. “No. I suppose it couldn’t.”
“How much time do I have until we have to meet the AUSA?”
She consulted her watch. “He’ll be here in about an hour.”
Now it was my turn to be surprised. “He’s coming here?”
“It seemed like the best course of action.”
I nodded thoughtfully and went back to examining Meaghan’s pictures. It was slow going, as I wasn’t sure precisely what I was supposed to be looking for. After the second one, I felt like my eyes were starting to cross.
On picture number six, something gave me pause. I snagged my flashlight from my bag and shone the light directly on the photo in the hopes it would help me determine whether it was anything to get excited about.
“Did you find something?”
“Maybe,” I murmured. I leaned even closer, as though having my eyes mere inches from the loupe would help somehow. I slid the picture closer to Claudia and gestured. “Tell me what you see.”
“A car. Late-model sedan. Dark. Maybe a Toyota? I’m not sure. Jersey plates. And there’s a sticker in the back window.” Claudia frowned in concentration and leaned nearer, just as I had. “Some kind of pirate flag or something. Skull and crossbones. Might be writing underneath the image, but I can’t make it out.” She looked up at me but didn’t lift her head. “Does that mean something to you?”
I took a deep breath as I considered the question. “It’s probably nothing, but Mark has a thing for pirates.”
“Does he own a personal car?”
“He lives in Jersey, so it’s likely. I doubt this is his—I mean, that’d be way too easy—but I’d like to run the plate anyway, just to rule it out. What time does Hannah come in today?”
Claudia nodded. “She said she planned to head in early so she’d be in a position to help us if we needed it. And Hurricane had no scheduled movements, so unless she had a sudden urge to go out and do something, Hannah should be in the CP.”
“Great.” I sent Hannah a quick email asking her to run a DMV check on the plate number from the photo. “I’d rather have Hannah run it than ask someone in NYFO. You know, just in case it does come back to Mark. I’d hate to inadvertently tip our hand.”
“Good thinking.”
I fiddled with my BlackBerry anxiously as I waited for Hannah to answer. “So, do you think this’ll be enough for the AUSA?”
“Absolutely. You’ve got a great foundation with this alone. If the cell-site info tells us what you think it will, it’s a slam dunk.”
“I hope so. The sooner we grab this guy, the happier I’ll be.”
“You and me both. I’m absolutely furious that one of our own resorted to such tactics. It’s terrible for a civilian. For one of us, it’s unconscionable.”
“He’s clearly not worthy of trust and confidence,” I said, referring to our agency motto.
Claudia laughed. “You’re taking this pretty well.”
“Ha. You should’ve seen me last night when I called that phone and Mark answered. Believe me, I was the exact opposite of well.”
“You bounce back quickly, then.”
“Yeah. I’m a regular real-life Weeble,” I drawled sarcastically, thinking about the past few days and how well I had not handled anything.
“Is your dad free early this afternoon? I’d like to have a quick chat with him before I go grab Mark.”
“I checked both his and Mark’s schedules this morning,” I said, wiggling my BlackBerry at her. “They’re both supposed to be in the office all day.”
“Perfect. Should be easy, then. One-stop shopping. I can brief your dad and then go pick up Mark.”
“Here’s hoping,” I told her as my BlackBerry chimed to indicate an incoming email message.
“What is it?” Claudia asked.
“It’s Hannah.” A slow smile stole over my features.
“It’s his car, isn’t it?”
“Got it in one.”
“This should be enough for the AUSA. I can’t imagine he’d need much else.”
“Even if it’s not, you can still interview Mark and just lay it all out for him. I know him. He’s a bully, but it’s all an act. He’s a coward to the core. If he thinks you can hit harder than he can—which we both know you can—he’ll tell you everything you want to know. All you need to do is get him to confess, and the warrant will write itself.”
Claudia glanced at her watch again. “We should know soon enough. It’s almost time for our meeting. You ready?”
I grinned again. “You have no idea.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The meeting with the chief of the Counterterrorism Division of the United States Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York we
nt a lot quicker and a lot smoother than I’d ever have thought possible.
Claudia also hadn’t been kidding when she’d told me that, between the two of them, they could get me that subpoena information for those phone numbers faster than Joey Chestnut could eat a hot dog. In the space of two well-placed phone calls, I was the proud owner of cell-site information for the suspect numbers in question. And, surprise, surprise, the results showed exactly what I’d expected. The one number hit off towers in the vicinity of Mark’s home and our field office. The other number hit off towers in the area near the InterCon on the day I was shot. If I were a different kind of girl, I might’ve done a victory dance at receiving that information. But as I’m a consummate professional, I danced only on the inside.
Between those subpoena results and all the other facts I’d gathered, the AUSA had no problem drafting a warrant for Mark’s immediate arrest. He hadn’t been in my apartment for more than forty minutes before he’d excused himself so he could go back to his office to write it up. He promised he’d get it before a judge, and we’d have it in a matter of hours.
That actually worked out perfectly because it gave us plenty of time to go over to NYFO so we could brief my dad. I was admittedly a little nervous to see how he would react to this news, both as an agent and as a father. I was also curious to see which part of his personality would win out. For his sake, I hoped it’d be the agent side, but I simply couldn’t be sure.
I knocked tentatively on the edge of his door frame, reluctant to interrupt whatever he had going on but knowing this needed to be done ASAP. He looked up from the document he’d been perusing and blinked at me, obviously surprised.
“Ryan, what are you doing here?”
“Sir? Do you have a minute.”
He frowned slightly at the request—or perhaps at the formality of it, I couldn’t be sure—but didn’t comment. “Of course. Please, come in.”
Worthy of Trust and Confidence Page 23