Kyle closed the door gently so he wouldn’t attract attention, walked over to the window and pulled the curtain aside, then peered out. Some of the same media he had seen at the hotel were gathered around the FBI offices, a couple of reporters talking into microphones while their camera crews filmed the reports. He figured what he had been hearing on the TV was being reported life from outside, a few dozen feet from where he stood.
He pulled away and sat in the chair once again. The office itself was rather sparse – a small wooden desk with a simple chair, another similar chair on the other side for a guest, a small table off in the corner next to a three-tier bookshelf. When Willis had guided him into FBI headquarters, Kyle looked to see if Dwight, formerly Harry, was anywhere to be seen. He wasn’t, but Kyle wondered where they took him, and what his ultimate fate would be. He worried Dwight wouldn’t be punished for Charlie’s death, that some loophole or overriding concern would release him from all accountability. That seemed to be how the government worked.
The door opened and Willis stepped in, his countenance stern and worried. Nothing at all like the Willis he had seen in the hotel. That man had been confident and sure of himself. The person who stood before Kyle now was beaten and doubtful. He shut the door behind him but didn’t come further into the room.
“I’ve been ordered to release you, with specific stipulations.”
Kyle couldn’t believe his ears, but didn’t argue. “Stipulations?”
“First, you will refrain from speaking with the Press or answering any questions.”
“Agreed,” Kyle said, eager to get home.
“Further, you will refrain from discussing this with anyone else and you will be available for questioning as required by the Bureau.”
“I agree. Anything else?”
“You will turn over all materials, disks, CDs, programs, whatever, related to your findings to the FBI tomorrow afternoon. You will also be required to make a formal statement, in writing, as well as undergo an interview process with an FBI agent in the coming week.”
“I already have some of that ready to go,” Kyle said.
“Why am I not surprised?” Willis quipped sarcastically, then continued. “If, or when, indictments are handed down on those involved in either Mr. Duncan’s death or the conspiracy to illegally remove funds from financial institutions, you will be willing and available to testify when called upon.”
“No problem,” he said eagerly.
“Then you’re free to go. Carmen will drive you home.”
Willis opened the door for Kyle. The outer room suddenly went quiet as he stepped out, all the investigator’s eyes on him, Carmen standing near the exit. He slowly walked toward her, his eyes scanning the room. He wasn’t sure if they were looking in disbelief of what he had done or angry for giving the FBI a black eye, or maybe even elated that he exposed Rudy Kain, in a roundabout sort of way.
They walked down a hall and went through a door that led into a back ally where a car was waiting. Carmen got behind the wheel as Kyle took the front passenger seat.
“Get down,” she said as she pulled away.
Kyle scrunched low to the floorboard. He heard the reporters and a gathering of spectators as they passed by unnoticed. When they had cleared the scene, he shot back up as they rode most of the way in silence, all the words having been said between them.
Kyle was concerned reporters and camera crews would be gathered around his house, but it was clear except for a few neighbors standing off in the distance watching him get out of the car with Carmen. They obviously had seen the blue license plate and were discussing Kyle and the FBI agent. Kyle didn’t care. He worked so many hours he never had the opportunity to chat with his neighbors, and that was okay with him.
He stepped out of the car and Carmen walked him to the door. “Come on in,” he said. “Just for a while.”
“I can’t,” she muttered, her voice low.
“Will I see you again?”
She looked up at him, that same near-tear expression she held before, holding it back like before. “I’m not sure. I don’t know what’s going to happen now.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out his hand.
She took his hand in hers. “I know. And I’m sorry about Charlie. I really am.”
“Look,” Kyle started, stumbling over his words. “I know we haven’t known one another but a couple of days…well, a day actually, although it feels like more. What I’m trying to say, like, maybe, if you want…see you again, Carmen.” He took a breath, feeling silly for being so awkward, then added, “you know, without people chasing us and shooting at us.”
She appeared to consider it for a second, staring into his eyes, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She gently released his hand and returned to the car, pulled out of the driveway and quietly disappeared down the road.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Kyle turned on the news and saw the report he had only just heard at the FBI office. Every channel aired it, some with reporters analyzing the events, others showing the video of him in the room with Willis and Carmen. Fortunately, they had honored his request and, through the wonder of technology, blurred his face as well as Carmen’s. Willis, on the other hand, was front and center, having been positioned in the chair directly in front of the camera. His voice resonated loud and clear. Kyle flipped over to CNN where they were running their own version of the story as well, throwing a more national slant on it. They even tracked down the person whose name appeared on the copy of the smart card. It was an elderly woman in Louisiana, and based on the interview, it was clear she had never seen the card before.
Kyle hoped the Press would stay away from his house. He intended to honor the agreement Willis had bound him with, and didn’t really mind doing so. He enjoyed being home, even though he missed Sammy jumping at his feet. Sammy was likely enjoying the lavish attention Quinn was giving him, and Kyle made the best of being alone.
The phone started ringing with calls of all sorts. Friends and neighbors called, asking questions, if he was okay, or if they could stop by, which he refused. A few reporters called, even from other states, wanting a statement and, if he had the time, an exclusive interview. Even though his face was blurred in the video, his name was all over the place in print. He stopped answering around five-thirty. Instead he went around the house and removed the bugs from where the FBI had said they were located. It was easier than he thought it would be. He flushed all three down the toilet, hoping someone was listening, but rather doubting it. If anyone else involved had been fortunate enough to avoid the hotel, they were long gone.
He ordered a pizza and, luckily, they had no clue as to who he was or what he had done. He used the cell phone to call Robert’s cell, hoping he would pick up. Robert answered and related all the details of dealing with the Press, although Kyle had gathered as much from watching TV. Robert also noted that Tanya Jette stopped by and loaded the video equipment.
“We’re not done,” Kyle said, sitting in his favorite recliner, flipping channels. “I need you to get busy on the last phase.”
“I already have,” he said. “I’ve called five team members so far. I have a question, though. Do you want me to include Rene?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Okay,” Robert agreed without question. “I also have a fairly large bill for you, which not only includes rental on the office space, but damage to the hotel room, not to mention the blood on the carpet.”
Kyle sighed a bit, then said, “Don’t worry, I’ll cover it, or maybe I’ll just bill the FBI.”
Robert laughed, then asked, “Have you talked with Beth yet?”
“No, but I’ve thought about it. I’m sure she’s seen the news, I just haven’t had the nerve, I guess.”
“You have to call her,” Robert said.
“I know. I will, but later.”
“Kyle?”
“Yes.”
“Did we do the right thing? I mean…with the Press and
letting it all out, was it the right thing to do?”
“Of course it was,” Kyle said. “You heard him on the tape. They were getting ready to ship me off to Columbus to make sure I kept quiet. They probably would have done the same to you. We did good.”
“One last thing – Tanya brought your jackets.”
“Bring them tomorrow, and don’t be late. Remember, seven-thirty sharp. We should beat the Press by at least an hour.”
“Tomorrow,” Robert repeated, and hung up the phone.
____________
Kyle didn’t fall asleep until sometime past midnight, but woke at five-thirty sharp. The day wouldn’t compare to yesterday, but it would still be memorable if everything went as planned.
He showered, dressed and left in the Camaro. He pulled into the Allied parking lot at 7:25 and parked next to Robert’s truck which dwarfed the Camaro as much as his motorcycle. He got out and went to Robert’s door. Robert handed a folder through the window, along with their jackets from Sandia Peak.
“How many?” Kyle asked.
“Thirteen out of fourteen,” he said.
“Not bad. I can guess who the holdout is.”
“This is a pretty gutsy idea,” Robert commented, leaning his arm out the window. “Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”
“There always is,” Kyle said with a smile.
Robert laughed and started the engine. “Tell me how it turns out.”
“I will.”
Kyle threw the jackets in the car, stuffed the folder under his arm, and headed for the main entrance. He had been wrong. Reporters had already gathered and were, so far, not permitted to enter the facility. They spotted Kyle coming their way and ran over before he could make it to the gate, throwing a lot of the same questions from yesterday in his direction. He was bound to his agreement and didn’t answer, not that he would have even if he hadn’t agreed to keep quiet. It took a little longer to make it to the guard station, but when he did, the reporters finally backed off.
The guard on duty, Dex, said Kyle was no longer an employee of the company and had no right to be there. Kyle explained he was on important business for Tom Wells and Dex would be held personally responsible if he was not allowed to see Mr. Wells, then asked Dex if he watched the news last night. Dex let out a little laugh and let him pass through with a temporary badge, making a joke about Kyle’s facing being blurred out.
Kyle walked into the reception area and asked for Tom Wells, the secretary promptly telling him that he was not on the calendar. He told her to tell Tom he was here, and felt confident he would take a meeting. She instructed him to have a seat and wait, but it was an eerie feeling sitting in the plush chairs reserved for customers and suppliers who would sit waiting to do business with the GM. He gazed at the employees filing in, most recognizing him as either a friend they used to work with or the guy that made the news and whose team was under investigation. A few stopped and sat next to him while he waited, asking if he was okay and had he talked with Beth. As it was, he ended up not calling Beth, not sure what to say or if there was anything to say, although he felt guilty for not being there to support her. He hoped that she was pleased that he had found who killed Charlie, but, of course, it wouldn’t bring him back.
After about 15 minutes the secretary said Tom Wells would see him. He gathered his nerve and walked down mahogany row into Tom’s office, the same one he had been grilled in by upper management only yesterday. It seemed much longer than just one day.
“I’m rather surprised to see you here,” Tom said. He had summoned part of his entourage – Curtis Hopkins, Kyle’s former boss, and Stacy Weathersby from legal. Kyle was pleased to see Paul Ketcham was not among them. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”
Kyle took a deep breath. “Actually, I don’t. I have exposed a conspiracy and brought to justice those responsible for killing Charlie. Pretty cool, huh?”
Stacy, who had been holding her tongue, quickly jumped in. “You have placed this company in a very precarious position, leaving us wide open to litigation and even criminal investigation.”
“Well,” Kyle said, remaining standing, “since I’m no longer employed by this firm, I cannot be held accountable.”
“We can file a slander suit against you,” Stacy snapped. “And numerous violations of company policy.”
“Only if you can prove that what I claim is false, and you can’t.”
“Then why, exactly, are you here?” Tom asked, sitting back in his swivel chair much like a captain of a ship.
“How many people on my team, excuse me, my former team, have called in sick this morning?”
Everyone looked to Curtis, who shrugged. He didn’t know the answer.
“Why don’t you tell us?” Stacy said.
“Thirteen. That’s thirteen out of fourteen.” Kyle tossed the folder Robert had given him on the table. “These are letters of resignation, dated and signed by each of the thirteen employees, effective immediately.”
“What!” Curtis shrieked, standing and snatching up the folder. He opened it and removed the resignations, all signed. “What’s the meaning of this?”
“They’re going to work for me,” Kyle explained, contentment flowing through him. This was the moment he had dreamed for a long time. “I’ve started my own consulting firm.”
“You’re not allowed to do that,” Stacy pointed out. “You signed a non-competitive agreement when you joined the firm.”
“On the contrary,” Kyle argued, “I signed an agreement that prevents me from taking intellectual property from this company and either selling it or using it to make a profit. I’m simply offering some of your current employees a different opportunity. Perhaps if you give them raises you can woo them back into the fold.”
“How are we supposed to meet the HSI deadlines with no programmers?” Curtis asked, reading each name as he flipped through the pages.
“Like I said, I’m starting my own consulting firm. If you have purchasing write up your requirements, I’d be glad to submit a bid, but I must tell you, we don’t work cheap, and we don’t negotiate either. If you hire us, and you will, we can meet the deadlines and, at the same time, take care of the virus code that somehow got into your systems.”
“I bet you’re real proud of yourself,” Tom said flippantly.
“I wouldn’t call it pride.” Kyle looked at Tom, slowly shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? If you had managed better, treated people better, and not been so shitty with me in the last couple of days, things might have turned out differently. People might have remained loyal to you. As it is, their loyalties are with me, and now I’m making the rules.”
“We’ll just hire another consulting firm,” Tom said.
Curtis snapped his head toward Tom. “Don’t count on it.”
“Why?”
“You have to be kidding,” Curtis told him. “We’re less than a month away from final delivery. No one else can ramp on all that work and finish in time.”
“Now I’m proud of myself,” Kyle said, casting a triumphant smile to Tom. “But you still have Henry. He was the only one who turned me down.”
There was a strained silence as the three looked at one another, then Tom finally relented. “You’ll have our request for quote by this afternoon. We’ll need to know where to send it.”
“Our location is the Journal Center Industrial Park, the building directly across from the Pyramid. I’d suggest you leave it here and I’ll send someone to pick it up.”
“Very well,” Tom said.
Kyle turned to leave, then stopped before stepping out the door, looking back one last time. “When my employees come over here from now on, you will treat each of them with respect. I’d also suggest you do the same with the rest of the employees in the company, otherwise you might find yourselves in this position again.”
He turned and left.
____________
Kyle was in the Camaro headed to the Journal Center In
dustrial Complex when his cell phone rang. He reached over and flipped it open. Had he been on the motorcycle, he would have to either pull over to answer or ignore it altogether. Most of the time he didn’t even hear or feel it.
The voice was Carmen’s. “Kyle?”
“Carmen?”
“I need you to go somewhere right away,” she said, her voice panicked. “Where are you?”
“I just left work,” he said, confused. “What’s the matter?”
“Something’s come up. Can you be at the Motel 6 on Central and Tramway in 20 or so minutes?”
“Yeah,” he said, his mind reeling with possible scenarios that could cause her to call. “What’s wrong?”
“Just get over there as soon as you can. We’ll meet you.”
“Okay,” he said, and put the phone away.
He passed by the freeway exit that would have taken him directly into the Journal Center, his thoughts running wild. As far as he knew, everything was resolved. Norm was supposed to be on his way back to Albuquerque, Willis and Carmen were scheduled to leave with Dwight in custody that afternoon, and Kyle had promised to have all the information ready before they left. He wondered why Carmen would want to meet at a hotel, unless it was personal, unless she wanted to talk and maybe patch things up. Of course, the Pyramid would have been better for that. But she had said “we”.
Kyle kept an even seventy miles an hour until he made it to the interchange where Interstate 25 and 40 converged in a clover-leaf. He headed east toward the mountains that now had a fresh blanket of snow covering them. He was less than ten minutes from the Motel 6 and trying to figure out what could possibly be so urgent in that part of town. He started to worry it was a trap, that the FBI was calling him there to apprehend him once again because something new had developed. Maybe Dwight figured out he had been double-crossed and Kyle had the money, which he didn’t. He wondered if anyone had grabbed the money, maybe a passing stranger stumbled upon it, or whether it was still up there hidden under a blanket of snow. He then wished he had the money to help get the business going, knowing his savings wouldn’t cover all the expenses. He figured he would ultimately have to dip into his 401k to get it off the ground, or finance it.
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