Velocity kv-3

by Alan Jacobson

  He wiped his face across his sleeve. “I had no idea he was using some of this information to locate and kill people. I—I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d known. I truly believe he’d come after my wife and son—no matter where we went.

  “So if you’re watching this, my wife has told you where to find it. I assume she’s safe. And I assume I was successful in killing this goddamn fucking monster who’s made the last five months of our lives a living hell. Wondering if he’s watching us, if he’s going to keep his end of the deal . . . ”

  He paused, dropped his chin down—it looked like he had fallen asleep—but there was still timeline left on the video.

  Lugo’s head came up and he said, “César Guevara is tied into this somehow. I don’t know how, but I’ve just got a feeling. There’s gotta be something. If he is somehow affiliated with our killer, I don’t want him skating by. Again, I’m sorry. But know that I gave my life trying to keep my family safe. And, yeah, mix a little revenge into that too. A lot of revenge.”

  He sat there looking at the camera, then said, “Take care. I feel honored to have served with all of you.”

  Vail closed the window.

  “Open Live Messenger,” Dixon said.

  Vail clicked and signed in, then added the Sheriff ’s Department email address. A moment later, a request for a video call popped up. Vail accepted, and Dixon’s face filled the screen. The sight of her friend’s image made her feel good. There hadn’t been many moments like that of late.

  “So Ray was more deeply wrapped up in this than we thought,” Dixon said. “That explains why he was so agitated and stressed out. He knew what was going on but wasn’t telling us.”

  “Don’t be so hard on him, Roxx. He thought he was doing what he had to do to protect his wife and son. It’s a horrible choice to have to make.”

  “Still . . . he could’ve pointed us in the right direction.”

  “What direction was that? We were already looking at Superior and Guevara. The only thing we might’ve been able to do is to put a tail on Ray so that when Mayfield contacted him, we could track it. But that would’ve run the risk that Mayfield would’ve found out or detected it somehow. And Ray probably wasn’t willing to take the risk that we’d be able to adequately protect Merilynn and Mario.” She shook her head. “We still don’t have the whole picture.”

  “I’m going to talk with Brix about putting some undercovers on Guevara. It’ll be tough, because the street-wise SOB may pick it up. But we still don’t have enough for a search warrant.” She brushed her blonde hair off her face. “Let me switch gears a minute. I haven’t heard anything from the San Francisco field office about Robby. If they’re working the case, I’m in—”

  “That’s what I was going to tell you,” Vail said. She rested both forearms on her desk and said, “You’re not gonna believe this, but Robby’s working undercover. I can’t go into it over an unsecure line. But that explains why he suddenly disappeared. He went dark.”

  Dixon’s eyebrows rose. “No way!” She sat back in her chair. “That’s a huge relief. But Jesus, I can’t believe he didn’t tell you. I mean, doesn’t he realize what he put you through?”

  “I just found out a minute before you called, so it hasn’t really sunk in. Let’s just say I feel betrayed. Bottom line, he didn’t trust me.”

  Vail’s desk phone buzzed. “Agent Vail,” Lenka’s voice said over the speaker. “Mr. Gifford wants you in his office right now.”

  “On my way.” Vail faced the webcam. “Roxx—”

  “Before you go. Aaron’s analysis of those fibers they found in the blood in Cannon’s shed turned out to be deer, as we thought. They combed through his house and found the body buried in his yard. Clearly a brutal act. Nothing tentative about it.”

  “Not surprising.”

  “I thought you’d want to know.”

  “You thought right. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.”

  Vail disconnected the call and ran out, back toward Gifford’s office.

  45

  Vail didn’t have time to put further thought into Cannon’s deer killing, but she felt as if she already knew everything she needed to know about it, and the man—at least for the purpose of her current task.

  When Vail walked into her ASAC’s office, DeSantos and Gifford were standing and arguing—and stopped the moment she entered. They turned to look at her.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Robby’s undercover contact,” DeSantos said. “His name is César Guevara.”

  Vail processed that a long second, then reached back for a chair and sat down heavily. The discovery of Robby’s handwriting in Guevara’s house suddenly came into focus. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  “What’s the problem?” DeSantos asked.

  Without raising her head, Vail said, “When Robby went missing, I went into a frenzy. I looked everywhere. The task force and the Napa Special Investigations Bureau mobilized. I gave them Robby’s photo to show around town.” She grasped her hair in both hands. “And I . . . I showed it to Guevara.”

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. Vail yanked her phone and pulled up the photo Jonathan had sent her. The image struck her like a slap to the cheek.

  DeSantos must have seen her reaction, because he reached over and grabbed the BlackBerry from her hand. “Ah, shit.”

  Vail watched as he handed the phone to Gifford, who took a look, then sat down slowly in his chair.

  “Hector, get the DEA administrator on the line—and have him conference in Yardley.”

  DeSantos paged to the number, then lifted the secure handset.

  “I’ve got some more disturbing news,” he said as DeSantos made his call. “We’ve lost contact with Robby and Sebastian. They missed their last three check-in times.”

  Vail felt panic rising in her throat like bile. She steeled herself, tried to settle her nerves. Now’s not the time to freak out. As Rudnick had said, she had to keep her emotions in check. This wasn’t exactly what he was referring to, but it certainly applied.

  “Yes, Mr. Administrator, I’m here with ASAC Gifford and Agent Vail. I’m putting you on speaker.” DeSantos listened a moment, then gestured to Gifford, who pressed a button. “He’s bringing Yardley online.”

  A moment later, DEA administrator Bronson McGuire’s voice filtered through the speaker. “Yardley and I are here. What’s the problem?”

  “Sir, Karen Vail. I’ve just been briefed on Roberto Hernandez’s undercover op.” Would’ve been nice to put me in the loop, asshole. “I was with him when we—”

  “Yes, yes, Agent Vail. I’m familiar with the op. What’s the problem?” he repeated.

  Vail clenched her jaw. Emotions in check. “When he went . . . missing, the Napa County major crimes task force began an all-out search. I obtained a photo to distribute to the LEOs for them to show around the community. I needed a picture fast, and I used one I had from a few weeks ago. We took it at the FBI Academy.” She paused, as if the next sentence was too painful to utter. But she pressed forward nonetheless. “We took it in front of the academy sign.”

  There was silence, so Vail continued.

  “You could see the large ‘FBI’ lettering.” She closed her eyes. “I showed the photo to César Guevara. And I may’ve referred to him as ‘a colleague of mine.’” At the verbalization of those facts, Vail began to perspire. No, dammit, she was sweating. The implication was clear: she had inadvertently blown Robby’s cover. And the fact that they had lost contact with their undercover agents could only portend a less than optimistic result.

  “Well,” McGuire said, “this is just fucking goddamn great. Nice work, Agent Vail.”

  “Now hang on a minute, sir,” Gifford said. “Agent Vail was not privy to what was going on. She did what any of us would’ve done if a fellow officer went missing. The . . . unintended consequences are very bad, no question. But to blame her—�
��

  “Sorry if I hurt Agent Vail’s feelings,” McGuire said. “But tough shit. We’ve got a situation here, and it’s a fucking bad one. Thanks for all your help.”

  The call disconnected.

  DeSantos put his hands on his hips and began pacing. Vail sat there seething. And Gifford stared at the silent telephone.

  “We’ve gotta find him, Hector.” Vail was now on her feet.

  DeSantos looked at her. The resigned tilt of his head reflected his thoughts: it was probably too late.

  Gifford said, “It’s not your fault, Karen. If I hadn’t done this favor for him, he never would’ve been on this op. If anything, it’s my fault.”

  “Assigning blame isn’t going to help anyone,” DeSantos said. “No one could’ve foreseen this.” He stopped pacing. “This is a DEA operation. They’ve got assets in place that could find him a lot faster than we could.”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t try?” Vail asked, then turned to Gifford, who was still lost in thought. “Sir, please.”

  Gifford pulled his gaze to Vail. “Find him. Whatever it takes, bring him back. Preferably alive.”

  Vail looked at DeSantos. “You with me?”

  DeSantos licked his lips, hands still on his hips. “Yeah.”

  “Then let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

  46

  Once they’d cleared the stairs outside the BAU, Vail stopped. She grabbed the railing. “I blew it, Hector. Do you think—did I get Robby killed?”

  DeSantos put his arm around Vail’s shoulders. “I sure hope not. I’m not gonna lie to you. This is bad. His cover’s been compromised. We’re behind the eight ball on this. But you’ve got friends on the task force in Napa?”

  Vail nodded.

  “Call them. Have them find Guevara. Take him somewhere, legal or not, and sweat him. Will they do that? Will they grab him up without a warrant?”

  She hesitated. “Maybe.”

  “Convince them. Whatever it takes, they’ve gotta find out what he knows. It may be our only chance. Meantime, I’m gonna reach out to some people and see what I can do.”

  He pulled his phone, then turned back to Vail. “Now. Make the call.”

  Vail mentally slapped herself. Get with it, Karen. Freak out later. She called Dixon. Brix was in the car with her, so he could hear what she had to say.

  “I’m about to ask you a favor, and it’s going to jeopardize your careers. But I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then Dixon said, “Go on.”

  “Brix, have you been briefed—”

  “I’m up to speed.”

  “Okay. Listen to me. César Guevara was the target of a DEA operation. Robby was brought in by his friend Antonio Sebastiani de Medina—Sebastian—to work the case with him. He was only supposed to handle one transaction, but Robby’s meet with Guevara went well, and his role expanded.”

  “I thought Robby was a detective with some small town in Virginia,” Brix said. “Venice?”

  “Vienna. Long story, and it’s unimportant. He got this gig with DEA, hoping it’d lead to a permanent position. So now we have the connection between Robby and Guevara. That’d explain Ian Wirth’s address in Guevara’s house, in Robby’s handwriting. Robby was probably helping Guevara at that point. Maybe it was a test. I don’t know—I don’t know if we’ll ever know. But you’ve got to find Guevara. Before it’s too late.”

  “I’m turning the car around right now. We’ll check Superior first.”

  “There’s still not enough for a warrant, so you’re going to need to grab him up and take him somewhere.” Vail realized she was on an open cell connection—but there was no time. Robby’s life was of paramount concern. If she lost her career but saved him, it’d be worth it. Then again, if she lost her career and he turned up dead—no, I can’t think that way. He’s alive. He’s alive.

  “I’m texting Mann,” Brix said. “Get him over to Guevara’s house. Just in case.”

  “One thing you should know,” Vail said. “Robby and Sebastian missed their last three check-ins with their DEA case agent. And Guevara left a voice mail for me a little while ago that said Robby was dead. He made it sound like he wasn’t responsible, but that he knew who was.”

  “Don’t believe that scumbag,” Dixon said. “If he’s got information, we’ll get it.”

  “Thanks, guys.”

  “Hang in there,” Brix said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  Vail looked up. DeSantos was ending his call. “C’mon. We’ve got a meet with a guy who’s gonna get some info for us.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell. Best that way.”

  Vail pulled herself up from the steps. “If he’s got the info we need, I couldn’t give a shit who he is.”

  47

  Dixon took the turn too fast, and the car dovetailed. Brix grabbed the dashboard with his right hand but couldn’t keep his shoulder from pushing up against the door.

  “Sorry,” Dixon said. “Make sure your seat belt’s fastened because I don’t intend on going the speed limit.”

  “How hard do you want to push this?”

  “I intend on coming away with answers, Redd. Simple as that. This guy’s wrapped up in this. He might’ve had something to do with the Lugo kidnapping. He may’ve had something to do with aiding John Mayfield. And he apparently has something to do with Robby’s disappearance. I don’t plan on giving him a Coke and a slice of lime and treating him like he’s at a spa.”

  But Dixon was well aware that Brix had recently given her and Vail a hard time about entering César Guevara’s home without a warrant. Now she was expecting Brix to join her in leaping off the career-ending legal precipice with her.

  “Once we cross this line,” he said, “there’s no going back.”

  Dixon took a quick glance in Brix’s direction. Their eyes locked. A silent answer.

  They pulled onto the street where Superior Mobile Bottling was located. “It’s 7:00 AM,” Brix said. “I doubt he’s here.”

  “He gets to his office every morning at 7:15,” Dixon said, pulling into the adjacent parking lot. She slid the car into a slot behind the building, hidden from the street. “Up ahead, by that brick wall,” she said, pointing. “We’ll have a view of the front entrance and the side driveway. We’ll be able to see him when he arrives, but he won’t see us.”

  Brix nodded and then followed Dixon on foot to their perch. The air was crisp and the sky was brightening to their left, in the east.

  The time ticked by without activity. Finally, at 7:40 AM, Dixon sat down on the ground, her back against the brick wall.

  “What do you think?” Brix asked.

  “I don’t know. My source only knew what time he came in each day. I don’t know how prompt he usually is.” Dixon pulled her phone, called Austin Mann. “Anything?”

  “House is dark. By now I’d think someone’d be awake and moving around. I’ve got the front, Gordon’s got the back, and I’ve got two other guys from NSIB placed at various other points of interest. Nobody’s seen anything.”

  “Guevara’s usually at his office by 7:15,” Dixon said. “It’s possible he’s out of town. If he is, that’d be very convenient timing.”

  “You want us to go up and knock?” Mann asked.

  Dixon thought about that. “No, let’s give it a little longer. Maybe he’s running late. I’d rather take him at his office. There isn’t a whole lot around here. But in a residential neighborhood . . . lots of potential eyes and ears.”

  “Okay,” Mann said. “We sit and wait.”

  48

  Vail followed DeSantos to his car, a low-slung black Corvette.

  “You’re kidding me,” Vail said.

  “What?”

  “You want me to drive around in that?” She wiggled a finger at the highly polished sports car. “I have claustrophobia. Let’s take my Ford.”

  DeSantos unlocked the Vette. “I don’t ride in Fords
. Get in, you’ll be fine.”

  And a moment later, they were speeding out of the lot, en route to I-95.

  Vail looked around. She was sitting lower than she had ever sat in a car. But so far, there was no crushing anxiety. Her psyche was probably so overworked with stress from Robby’s situation that it had nothing left to give. Take your mind off it and you’ll be fine.

  A spark of sunlight glinted off the highly polished chrome of DeSantos’s stylish watch band. “Is that a bicycle chain you’re wearing?” She nodded at the timepiece on his wrist. “Your watch.”

  “It’s a Dēmos. Same one the president wears.”

  Vail twisted her lips. “And you would know that, how?”

  DeSantos frowned. “You’ll soon learn not to ask me questions like that.” He gunned the accelerator and they rocketed across three lanes of traffic to the far left of the interstate.

  Vail felt her stomach vault into the backseat and she reached out for something—anything—to grab onto. Perhaps she got too comfortable in this vehicle too soon. She licked her lips, trying to restore moisture to her suddenly dry mouth. “This guy you’ve hooked us up with. Who is he? I don’t like going into any situation blindly, let alone a meet with a CI.”

  “He’s not a CI,” DeSantos said. “He works for DEA. Let’s just say he has access to files and information. That’s how I got what I got that led me to Gifford.”

  “And I’m not supposed to know any of this.”

  “If you did know it, he’d have to kill you.”

  At the moment, Vail did not find that funny. And despite both Gifford’s and DeSantos’s admonitions, she did feel responsible for blowing Robby’s cover. Dammit, if he had just trusted me, if he had just confided in me and told me he had a mission and that he’d be gone awhile. What would the harm have been?P

  “You went quiet on me,” DeSantos said. “Where were you just now?” Vail turned toward her window. “Nowhere.”

  “Bullshit. You were thinking about Robby. You feel guilty.”

  Vail did not respond.