The Bigot List: (A J.J. McCall Novel)

by S. D. Skye

  • • •

  The sun’s rays broke across the horizon, and a strong acrid breeze whipped through the trees. Thanks to Director Freeman’s call to the Park Police chief, the patrol officers unlocked the gates a few minutes earlier than usual to give the Gs a head start. Tony and J.J. watched the surveillance personnel move into their positions—some camouflaged and crouched beneath piles of leaves, others dressed in plain clothes, passing themselves off as early morning fitness freaks.

  MacDonald authorized enough personnel to post at seven of the eight areas J.J. had identified as the most ideal operational sites. Jiggy’s position was close enough to the eighth that he could view the area with high powered binoculars, yet far enough away that he wouldn’t be spotted.

  J.J. and Tony positioned themselves roughly twenty-five meters down from Jake, where they could monitor cars approaching on the access road. Jake’s cam-car, equipped with video, would capture anything they missed.

  As J.J. thought about the significant odds against them, a bout of panic overcame her. The locations she selected might not be correct; the timing might be all wrong. For all J.J. knew, the mole may have already suspected the Bureau planned to roll him up and aborted the operation or changed the drop location. Her hand began to tremble once more, heightening her anxiety.

  “Any word from Dmitriyev on the cash drop? Even though we’ll have Chris covered for the rest of the day, it’d be nice to get positioned ahead of time. That way we can tape it for prosecution.”

  “This will never make it to court,” J.J. said.

  “Not once we get this on camera it won’t,” Tony said.

  She glanced down at her cell phone and checked her text messages. She’d set it to vibrate, thought she might’ve missed the incoming. “No, nothing yet,” J.J. responded. “He’s supposed to text me the location after Golikov’s people leave if he overhears a location.”

  “He’s not going to text you from his personal phone, is he? What if embassy security checks it?” Tony asked.

  “No, no. I gave him a throwaway at our first meeting, remember? He sends one text and tosses it. Those were my instructions and for his own safety he better follow them to the letter,” she glanced at her watch. “Time to do a mic check.”

  She picked up the secure radio. “This is Blue Leader one. Is team number one in position?”

  “Ten-four good buddy,” Jake interrupted, sounding country strong. “Team one is in position.”

  “Team two?”

  “Roger that, Blue Leader one. Team two is in position.”

  “I’d like to lodge a formal complaint,” Jiggy interjected. “Why am I out here in the sticks by myself? It’s dark and these squirrels got me shook.”

  Jake jumped on the bandwagon. “I just hope you picked the right locations, J.J. Otherwise we might all have a long morning.”

  “You mean, you might have a long morn—”

  “Looks like we’ve got an incoming. Stay alert. Stay alert,” Jake said.

  J.J.’s head pounded harder than her heartbeat. She waited for Jake to deliver the news they’d long waited to hear—the identity of the mole. A few seconds passed before she realized she’d been holding her breath. She released it and inhaled again. She wanted to grab Tony’s hand and squeeze it until the blood gathered in his fingertips, but she resisted. This is it! she thought to herself. We’re now at the moment we’ve been waiting for. She and Tony eyed each other briefly before Jake spoke again.

  “All right, Jake, we’re cooking with gas,” Tony said. “As soon as you can see the license, give me the number so I can call in the plate.”

  The car crept along. J.J. watched Jake rock back and forth as if he struggled to see the plate. Through the tinted glass, she could see a figure, a male figure as far as she could tell. The man craned his neck, scanning the park, looking for something, maybe suspicious visitors as if he expected to see someone he recognized. After a few seconds that felt more like a few hours, the driver pulled into a parking space and turned off the ignition.

  “Jesus, he’s finally parked. I can’t see inside the car, but—he’s getting out. He’s getting out. He’s walking around to the trunk. Shit! I missed the plate and he’s blocking the number! I can’t see it.”

  The man walked with his head down. Dressed in black jeans and a dark hoodie that concealed his face, he opened the trunk and pulled out a trash bag sealed with duct tape and a pair of gloves. He glanced over both shoulders before closing the trunk and heading into the park.

  “He took the package out of the trunk and headed into the park. Looks like we’ve got D.C. plates—David, Tango, 9-9-2-2.”

  Tony and J.J. looked at each other and she picked up the radio. “Is that a Black Toyota SUV?” she asked.

  “Roger that, looks like a Sequoia.”

  “That’s Chris Johnson’s truck,” she confirmed.

  “Well, I’ll be a caught dog,” Jake said. “That’s Agent Johnson all right. All dressed in black and carrying a plastic bag wrapped in duct tape. I’ve got the dash cam running.”

  “We nailed him!” Tony said, giving J.J. a high five. “I knew the son of a bitch was dirty. Smile for the camera, douche bag!”

  J.J. nodded in agreement.

  “We need to pinch this jerk-off, now,” Tony said. “Let’s roll him up.”

  “All in due time,” she responded. “Even on the outside chance he doesn’t show up for his polygraph, he’s not making a single move without picking up that money this afternoon.”

  “No doubt,” Tony said.

  “We’ll let Money T’s team cover him for the rest of the day. As soon as he returns to pick up the money we’ll get him. And this mess will be all over,” she turned to face Tony. “Mike’s going to hold him at the exam site until we give him the okay to let Chris go, right?”

  “Yep,” Tony replied. He’d spoken with Mike early that morning and made all the necessary arrangements. “He’s got that part under control. He ain’t goin’ anywhere without our okay.”

  She held the radio to her mouth. “All right, Money T, when he leaves here, you’ve got the eye. He’s got to mark the signal to let the Russian’s know it’s time to pick up the drop and leave the cash,” J.J. ordered. “Let him out of your sight and you’ll be the next one with the pink Mini Coop, are we understood?”

  “Roger that,” said Money T. “Trust me. I’ll be on his ass like a summer breeze. He might feel me, but he won’t see me.”

  “That’s what I want to hear!”

  Not five minutes later Chris left the park empty handed. How he could live with himself, J.J. didn’t know but she couldn’t wait to pop his ass later that day. The arrest would signal an end to the Bureau’s woes and her misery.

  “Blue Leader, this is Cham.” She posed as a power walker on the trail in order to scout out the exact drop location. “Looks like he made the drop about 100 meters in. I couldn’t get eyes on the exact location because I had to keep moving.”

  “Good work, Cham,” J.J. said before turning to Tony. “All right! Time to make the switch.”

  Tony grabbed the radio. “J.J. and I are going in, Jake. I’m taking the radio. I don’t care if you see a bird flying crooked, make sure you radio me if anything looks suspicious. Don’t let us get caught out there with our balls hangin’ out.”

  “Roger that, blue team,” Jake said. “We’ve got you covered.”

  J.J. retrieved the package from the back seat. She and Tony moved quickly under cover of the towering trees to find the drop location. Based on the information they’d received from Dmitriyev the site was approximately 100 meters down and to the right of the walking path in a hollowed log. A twisted Coca-Cola can next to an adjacent rock would mark the area. Her gaze darted around as she scanned to find the precise location.

  “Hurry up, slow poke,” Tony said. “Chris should be marking the signal any minute and I’m sure the Russians won’t be too far behind.”

  No sooner than the words passed Tony’s l
ips, the radio sounded. “Blue Leader, this is Money T. The subject just marked the signal. White duct tape on a light pole in a shopping center parking lot approximately three miles west of the drop location, off of Connecticut Avenue. I’m hanging tight to see when our friends drive—uh!” Money paused.

  “What is it? What is it?” Tony asked.

  “He must’ve been running late. A vehicle with Russian diplomatic plates just passed me. Couldn’t catch all the numbers but I’ll bet they’re on the way to the drop location.”

  “Copy that, Money,” Tony said. He picked up the pace, his feet crunching the fallen leaves as he hoofed along the trail. “You just stay on Chris. Make sure he gets to the Bureau offsite for the test!”

  “I’m on him.”

  “Shit! We’ve got to hurry up,” J.J. said breaking into a run. “If Golikov’s people are only three miles away, they’ll be here any minute.”

  Chapter 39

  Jack eyed Lana angrily as she entered the interrogation room at the Alexandria Detention Facility. He had called and asked her to pay him a long overdue visit. To his surprise, she obliged. After everything he’d done to help boost her career, she owed him that much. In jail nearly a week, he’d had a lot of time to reflect. He finally allowed the seeds of distrust and contempt to take hold and grow as he should’ve many months before.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m locked up. Didn’t think you were going to show up,” Jack said snidely. He feigned hurt at the absence he’d fully expected. Without power and position he was of no use to Lana. He’d merely been a pawn in some career-driven chess match, her fat needy puppet. Jack had always been under the impression she’d just been trying to get ahead—after all, he often received the same in return, but one particular thought disturbed him more than any other.

  Lana shook her head, forcing tears from her beady little blues. “I’m sorry for not coming sooner, Jack. I, uhhh, I guess I just couldn’t bear to see you here. You doing okay?”

  “Three hots and cot, and a lot of reading. Given my situation, I can’t complain. It is what it is,” he said. “Listen, I know you want to ask. So let me save you the trouble. No, I didn’t spy for the Russians.”

  She lifted her eyebrows and smirked. “You sure about that?”

  His eyebrows scrunched. “How the hell could you even suggest—You think this is fucking funny? I could get the death penalty for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “I’m—I’m sorry, Jack,” Lana lamented. “Everybody’s on edge. This is all so surreal.”

  He nodded and accepted her apology, with prejudice. She’d always been a heartless bitch. Why he’d expected anything different now was beyond him. She was who she was.

  “Listen, has anyone come to talk to you about Cartwright?”

  He shook his head. Besides J.J., Jim had been the only person who’d even attempted to contact him in jail. Even left a message saying he had a plan to get Jack out, but Jack refused Jim’s calls. It was Jim’s fault Jack had been tossed in jail in the first place. Even though he’d always known Jim to be an upstanding person, somewhere along the line his life had veered steeply from the high road. Cartwright had compromised his ideals, lost his integrity. Thus, he was not the same man Jack had met at the academy so many years ago. Jack mourned for the loss of Jim’s character almost as much as he regretted the loss of his own.

  “No,” Jack said, noting her glum expression. “Something wrong?”

  “Afraid so.” She sighed. “He’s, uhhh, he’s dead. Shot himself in the head at a scenic overlook off the GW Parkway.”

  “My God!” Jack yelled. He fell back in his chair and placed his hand over his heart. He knew Jim’s life had gone astray but bad enough to kill himself? “Why? Did he say why?”

  “He left a note but gave no reason.”

  “You must be devastated. He pulled quite a few strings to get you hired.”

  “Yes, I’m quite devastated.” Her voice was solemn and flat. “We know all the rumors about him were true. He must’ve been afraid his family would find out.”

  Jack hardened his glare on Lana, his face reddened as the edges of his mouth turned down. “Why would he be afraid? Despite the rumors, you, Chris, and I were the only ones who knew the truth.”

  She clasped her hands together as her face turned flush red. “I didn’t know he told you.”

  “He and I have been friends since Quantico. He told me about the incident in the garage years ago,” Jack said, his mind churning. “Wait a minute. You didn’t use that against him, did you? You’re not so blinded by ambition that you would blackmail a decent man and a father of two beautiful girls just to further your career, are you?!”

  She shook her head feverishly. “Jack, no! I would never tell a soul. It’s Chris. It had to be Chris. Oh my God—the money, the erratic behavior—it all makes sense now.”

  “Lana, you have to report this to security at Washington Field, not Headquarters, Washington Field. You can’t let him get away with this.”

  She exhaled and her shoulders relaxed. “Chris will meet his fate soon enough. He’s scheduled to take his polygraph this morning. If we’re right about him, he’ll leave in handcuffs.”

  Jack eyed her suspiciously. “You seem awfully confident. My question to you is why?”

  She glanced down at her watch. “Look at the time. I hate to cut this short, but I need to get out of here. Busy day ahead at the office.”

  “Mhm Hmm,” Jack said. “Lana, what game are you playing?”

  “You know me, Jack,” she said, smirking as she stood to leave. “I don’t play games. I just win.”

  • • •

  J.J. and Tony paced down the walking path, scanning the area carefully every step of the way. About a hundred meters in, the can was blowing across the trail. The marker had moved.

  “Do you see it, Tony?” J.J. said. Her head whipped from side to side. Nervous. Panicked. Where is it? Where is it?

  Tony threw up his hands in resignation. “No, I don’t see anything. You think we passed it?”

  “No. We couldn’t have.”

  “It’s got to be here somewhere because Chris left empty handed. You go back a few yards and I’ll go forward a few yards. I’ll holler if I see anything and you do the same.”

  Tony and J.J. scoured the area in close proximity to the walking path, inch by inch. The sun’s light helped them see, but it’d also make it easy for the Russians to spot them if they were caught in the area. The last thing they needed was for Golikov’s people to abort the op fearing an FBI sting. Their entire plan hinged on the Russians taking the package.

  “I got it! I got it!” Tony said.

  A smile slipped between her lips as she jetted back to his location. The op was coming to an end, and so far they’d averted the major disasters. But she caught herself. One step forward, two steps back.

  “Here it is. A hundred twenty yards on the left.”

  She shook her head in frustration. They’d wasted so much time.

  Then Jake radioed in. “Blue Leader one. You’ve got an incoming. A silver Toyota Camry sedan with Russian diplomatic plates just pulled into the lot. A white male, approximately six feet, two inches, close-shaven head, and a gray jogging suit is heading your way.”

  “Shit! Shit! Make the switch. Make the switch,” J.J. urged.

  Tony dug his hand beneath the thin layer of leaves. He pulled out Chris’s package, which was wrapped in a manner almost identical to the one they prepared. He replaced it with the fake package, kicked a few leaves over it with his foot, then shoved the real intelligence into his jacket and zipped it up. J.J. took the radio and slipped it into her pocket.

  “I don’t see him yet. Let’s go!” Her every sense was heightened, every sound magnified, every movement perceptible. “I hear something. I hear something. Walk faster.”

  As they powered along the trail, the package slipped from beneath Tony’s Jacket. He pushed it against his ribcage, held his hand firmly against it. He cou
ldn’t let it fall out, not now. They continued down the path until they rounded a turn which took them out of their follower’s line of sight.

  J.J. held her breath as she slowed down. She pulled the radio from her jacket pocket. “Any sign of him yet? We made the switch.”

  Jake didn’t respond.

  “Jake? Jake? Do you read me? Any sign of him yet?”

  Nothing but static. Jake had gone silent.

  But she heard something else in the distance. Footsteps.

  “You hear that?” Tony whispered.

  J.J. nodded.

  Her heart pounded. Maybe the Russian was lurking around the drop site instead of returning to his vehicle. The footsteps coming from behind quickened, drew closer. Suddenly she heard a noise. Someone padded toward them, faster and faster. If the Russians were onto them, they were shit soup. She softened her steps, as if making less noise could conceal their presence. If they could just make it to the fork in the trail, they could head back toward the parking lot and get a window of time in the clear.

  “You hear that?” she whispered. “Keep walking. Pick up the pace.”

  She turned the volume down to a whisper and shoved the radio back into her pocket. They pushed forward. The faster they walked, the louder the footsteps sounded. Suddenly, the steps quickened until J.J. heard them on her heels. She unzipped her jacket and reached for the holster on her back. Tony followed suit. She whipped her head around and...

  “Jake!” she screamed. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph you scared the shit out of me!”

  “You better say a Hail Mary when you get home because you almost took one in the chest,” Tony said. The package was on the ground under Tony’s foot. He dropped it lightning fast and placed his hand firmly on the holster in the small of his back. “Why didn’t you answer, J.J.?”

  “Sorry about that. My radio battery died,” he said. “I ran to catch you but didn’t want to make a big scene. I’ve been out there watching him and he’s still there. Maybe he caught a glimpse of you leaving the area near the drop site and decided to wait.”

  Precisely J.J.’s thoughts. Her mouth dropped open. “What are we gonna do now?” J.J. asked Tony. If the Russians suspected for a second the packages had been switched, the entire op was all for naught and Karat and Vorobyev were dead men walking. “You can’t walk out of here looking six months pregnant with that thing.”