“Tomorrow morning.”
“How many records are we talking about here?”
“At least three hundred.”
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ve got to fly to Oakland today. I’ll call you this afternoon and tell you where to email the query printout, case files, and other stuff. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds peachy, General,” she said, giving a mock salute. “Have a pleasant flight.”
“Thanks, Commander Elert. I’ll call you from California.”
CHAPTER 70
WHEN SHE WALKED OFF, Patton called Wedge and told him to get Schmidt’s mug shots to Charlie Fial. The CIA dweeb might be able to identify Schmidt in the security or campaign tapes, as he had John Doe. Finishing the call, Patton headed down to Sharp’s office. The door was open. The ASAC looked up from a pile of paperwork with a dyspeptic expression on his face.
Patton quickly told him about the latest lead and that he was leaving on the next flight out.
Sharp blew his nose into a crusty handkerchief. “I’m going with you,” he said.
Patton’s heart sank. “Why? I can handle it.”
“Like you handled Benjamin Locke and Governor Stoddart? Have Travel book me on your flight. And Taylor too. Then make your team assignments and contact San Francisco for support.”
Patton nodded reluctantly. It was unusual for an ASAC to go in the field, and he most certainly didn’t want Sharp looking over his shoulder, scrutinizing his every decision like an anal-retentive IRS auditor. But what can I do? I can’t tell him not to come.
Sharp twirled the tapered ends of his cowboy mustache in the way that drove Patton crazy. Then he rose from his seat and went to the window. “Franz Dieter Schmidt,” he said with a wolfish smile, “it’s time the Effin BI had a little talk with you.”
A sense of anticlimax washed over Patton as he returned to his desk. When he had walked into Sharp’s office, he had a hot lead and full freedom to pursue it as he saw fit. Now, with his boss clinging to him like a barnacle, he would inevitably be reduced to a subordinate role. That’s not how the system was supposed to work. Special agents were supposed to be given substantial latitude in making inquiries in the field and running cases. But now, for reasons that eluded him, standard operating procedures were being discarded.
He wanted to know why. For a brief moment, he allowed himself the fantasy that Sharp was in on the assassination. But what would be his motive? Why would a career FBI agent, a lifer, get mixed up in something like that? What would he stand to gain? And what did that fucking snake Governor Stoddart have to do with the case?
Unable to come up with any answers, he decided to call Jennifer. They were supposed to get together tonight, but that wasn’t going to happen now that he was flying to California. His thoughts turned to last night: to the fragrant smell of her hair, the warmth of her body when they kissed goodnight. He felt more than just a spark between them. Twelve years had come and gone, but it didn’t dampen his affection. If anything, he felt a deeper bond to her now because of their son, even though the boy belonged to other parents.
He dialed her at AMP and told her that he was sorry he wouldn’t be able to see her tonight because of his unexpected trip to California.
“That’s a bummer—I was looking forward to seeing you,” she said.
“Yeah, me too,” he said. “But the case beckons.”
“Sounds like it’s really heating up. By the way, have you seen the papers today?”
“Not yet—haven’t had time. What’s up?”
“With Hana Kieger’s endorsement, Fowler’s favorability ratings have risen to over eighty-five percent.”
“Jesus. What about Osborne?”
“The president’s rating has dipped below ten percent. That’s the lowest for any president ever. Whoever’s behind this thing has ensured that the Democrats are toast for the next generation.”
“That’s unbelievable. Thank God I don’t have to worry about all that. My job is simple: catch the killer.”
“When will you return from your trip?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, most likely. I’ll call you.”
“I’d like that.”
Suddenly, he felt a wellspring of emotion, as if he were embarking on a distant voyage and might not see her again. “Jenn, there’s something I want to tell you—something important.”
The phone went quiet, as if she was holding her breath on the other end.
“I know it sounds crazy after all this time, but I...I still feel the same about you. Am I off base here, or do you feel the same way?”
“Oh Ken,” she said after a moment’s silence. “Those are the words I most wanted to hear.”
He felt a surge of joy and, again, thought back to last night: walking under the vast canopy of stars, holding her close and kissing her, talking about things that had nothing to do with the case. He wondered if he was falling in love with her again or clinging to a romanticized notion of her from college, a long-vanished ideal.
“Will you promise me one thing?” she asked him, pulling him from his thoughts. “When you go after this Schmidt guy, promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” he said. “I definitely will.”
CHAPTER 71
HANGING UP THE PHONE, Jennifer realized that she needed to return the DVD tapes she had copied yesterday before they were noticed missing. She had planned to do it early this morning before work, but had forgotten. It would be a little risky during normal working hours, but she would slip in and out so quickly she thought it worth the risk.
She took the disks from her daypack, placed them in an accordion-style folder along with some papers, and walked out her office, heading straight for the elevator. She didn’t bump into anyone along the way and didn’t see anyone watching her, so she took the elevator straight to the basement. When the doors opened, she checked the hallway.
The coast was clear.
She went to the door to Fileroom E, looking nervously over her shoulder, and punched in the keypad code.
Hearing the click, she turned the handle, slipped inside, and closed the door behind her. Darkness enveloped her. Sliding her hand along the wall, she found the light switch and flipped it on. Squinting against the harsh light, she took off her small daypack and surveyed the orderly fileroom.
She had taken the DVDs from the three file cabinets on the right. She opened them one by one, stuffed the disks into their labeled plastic cases, and closed the cabinets. Then she turned to leave.
But curiosity got the better of her.
She wanted to search the files some more. She had planned to do it later tonight after work, when no one was around, but why not take a look now? As long as she didn’t take too long no one upstairs would miss her. The fileroom was seldom used and it was unlikely someone would come down to the basement. Plus she would be able to work quickly now that she knew the file system.
She set down her empty pack and went to work.
Forty minutes later, she decided she had better photocopy what she’d pulled so far. She hadn’t managed to track down anything new on Kieger, Dubois, or Fowler, but she did have some interesting correspondence between Colorado Governor Stoddart and AMP, as well as related financial records. Substantial sums of money had been funneled from AMP’s publically-anonymous donors to the governor’s reelection campaign via what looked like secret Stealth PACs. The governor was obviously going to great lengths to conceal his campaign contribution sources and cover up his ties to the religious right. But how did it relate to Kieger, Dubois, and Fowler? Jennifer felt there had to be a connection somewhere. She decided to come back tonight to go through the records more thoroughly. But for now, she would just copy what she had.
She fired up the photocopier and started making copies.
Two minutes in, she heard a faint click-clack sound coming from outside the door in the hallway.
She hit the Clear button and listened intently.
The sound was u
nmistakable: someone was walking down the hallway toward her. The feet stopped in front of the door.
Then she heard another noise: the code being entered on the keypad.
She was seized with panic. Shit, what should I do! The cabinet drawers were open, and a stack of files lay on the table next to the copier. There wasn’t enough time to put everything away, and there was no place to hide. Her only chance was to bluff her way out of this, to say she was handling a special task for her supervisor, Archie Roberts.
But what if he’s the one at the door? If that’s the case, I’m in deep —
There was a click. The door started to inch open.
Jennifer reached for the handle. Somehow she had to take the offensive—and put the intruder on the defensive.
She jerked the door open all the way.
Suddenly, she was face to face with Benjamin Locke!
Summoning her deepest reserves of sangfroid, Jennifer put her hand to her chest and faked a sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s only you, Mr. Locke. I was scared there for a moment. I thought it might be a—”
“Jennifer, what are you doing here?” he cut her off.
He towered above her like Goliath and she felt the air leave her lungs all at once, rendering her speechless.
“Please answer the question, Jennifer. What are you doing here?”
“I-I’m putting together a piece for our contributors and the governor. For the…for the fundraiser.”
He squinted down at her skeptically. “The fundraiser? What fundraiser?”
“For the soldiers’ families at Fort Carson.”
He stared at her. His clever mind seemed to be calculating the odds of her telling the truth. She felt her heart sink at her own fumbling. Get a grip on yourself—you’ve got to be more convincing than that! She smiled pleasantly, trying to bluff her way through the situation, but it didn’t seem to have any effect. He tried to look over her shoulder, to see inside the room, but she stood implacably in the doorway, blocking his view. It had quickly turned into a battle of wills.
“Mr. Roberts gave me the assignment, Mr. Locke. He said I wasn’t supposed to be disturbed. That’s why I’m surprised to see you. It’s so lonely and quiet down here in the basement—I think you just scared the heck out of me. I hope you’re not angry with me.”
For an instant, it looked as if Locke might actually buy her explanation. But then his eyes contracted into pinpoints. Benjamin Bradford Locke was not a man easily fooled. “Archie didn’t tell me anything about your working in here. And he didn’t say anything about a fundraiser either.”
Jennifer feigned surprise. “That’s odd, he said he had mentioned it to you.”
“How did you get access to this room? The only personnel allowed in here are myself, Archie, Marlene, and Dick Valentine.”
“And now me. Mr. Roberts gave me the code when I was recently promoted.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“Yes, sir. Wait a second. Was he not supposed to?”
“No, it just surprises me that Archie would do that—without my authorization.”
Jennifer softened her expression, pretending as though it was all a simple misunderstanding. “Mr. Locke, there’s no reason to get worked up about this. I’ve explained what I’m doing here.”
“You were here the other day, weren’t you?”
Jennifer pretended to be affronted. “What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve been in this room. I was only given the code yesterday when my promotion came through.”
To her dismay, Locke was not fooled by her feigned innocence. “Marlene said someone was snooping around down here. It was you, wasn’t it?”
She was too stunned to answer. Jesus, it’s as though he can read my mind. She felt her heart suddenly racing uncontrollably in her chest.
His eyes narrowed on her like lasers. “I should have listened to Marlene.”
“L-Listened to her? About what?”
“About you. She’s never trusted you. She says you don’t belong here at American Patriots. Do you belong here, Jennifer? Are you one of us ?”
Suddenly, Jennifer felt as though she was in Invasion of the Body Snatchers . She wasn’t one of them and they were onto her. A palpable fear took hold of her. “I don’t know why you’re putting me through the third degree, Mr. Locke, when you just promoted me. It isn’t fair.”
“So you’re telling the truth then. This has all been a simple misunderstanding, is that it?”
“Yes, sir. And I’ll tell you another thing, I don’t appreciate being called a liar. Now please leave me be, I have work to do.”
He stood there a moment, thinking things through. With her adamant self-defense, she seemed to have planted a seed of doubt in his mind and at the same time put him on the defensive. “All right, Jennifer, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“You don’t need to give me the benefit of anything. I am a loyal employee and that’s exactly why you just promoted me.”
“Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we? I’m going to go have a little chat with Archie—but I’ll be back,” he said softly, so softly that it brought a chill to the nape of her neck.
She tried not to appear intimidated, though she felt as if she was about to faint. “I’ll be here, Mr. Locke. I’ll be here working.”
“I guess we’ll see about that too.” He scrutinized her closely again—she could swear he saw right through her—before turning on a heel and walking off.
She felt a wave of relief followed quickly by panic. Her bluff would buy her five minutes tops. There was only one alternative now: it was time to make the best of the situation and escape. Her clandestine career as an AMP employee had come to a premature end; she had no choice now but to get the hell out.
The adrenaline surged through her like spring runoff as she closed the door and darted back to the photocopier. With trembling fingers, she flicked off the copier and threw the files back in their proper drawers, not wanting Locke and his lieutenants knowing what she’d copied. Luckily, she had left the drawers open, so the task only took her a couple minutes. It would take Locke at least that long to make it to Archie Roberts’ office on the tenth floor.
When finished, Jennifer grabbed her folder, turned off the light, ran down the hallway, and rushed up the stairs. There was no need to stop at her office. She had copies of all of her files at her apartment and she wouldn’t be leaving behind anything she couldn’t do without.
All the same, she knew she had entered treacherous waters. For the first time in her life, she had been discovered to be a fraud and had no idea what her future would hold.
CHAPTER 72
HER CAR fired up on the first try. She swung the wheel hard left before turning right onto Cascade, the rubber radials screeching as she zoomed in front of the traffic barreling down from the south. Her mind awash with fear and worry, she missed the turn onto Platte, which would have taken her home. Instead she continued north on Cascade, coming quickly upon the picturesque Colorado College campus. Rolling down her window to get some air, she realized, belatedly, that she would have to drive past the school and take a right on Uintah to get back home.
Damn! She pulled out her cellphone and dialed Reid Lampert in San Francisco.
“Mr. Lampert speaking.”
“It’s Jennifer Odden. I’ve been found out.”
“Found out? What do you mean found out?”
“In Fileroom E. Locke came upon me when I was copying files.”
“Did he actually catch you in the act?”
“No, I blocked the door. But he knows I was up to something.”
“Where are you now?”
“On my way home. I can’t go back to American Patriots now.”
“Did you manage to copy any more records?”
“Some fundraising documents on Governor Stoddart. He’s an AMP puppet. They’ve been funneling money to him for years via secret Stealth PACs with misleading names like Coloradans for Tax Relie
f and the Western Slope Agrarian Society. It’s all a front.”
“Did you return the DVDs?”
“Yeah, and I put all the files back in their proper drawers so Locke won’t know what I copied.”
“Have you read through the other files, the ones from your first visit to the fileroom?”
“Most of them.”
There was a silence and Jennifer had a feeling of impending trouble. She wasn’t sure where this was heading.
“I want you to listen very carefully to me, Ms. Odden. I’m going to send someone out there to go through those records with you. I’ve read over what you sent me and this thing is even bigger than I thought. You’re going to need some help on this.”
Jennifer was stunned, but quickly regrouped for a counteroffensive. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take care—”
“I’m going to send J.R. Welch. We’ve got to have our top political writer on this.”
“No way! This is my story!”
“Come now, Ms. Odden, don’t you want to be a team player? You’ll still be the second author. It’s just that J.R. brings twenty years of experience to the table.”
“I know how J.R. Welch operates. He lets everyone else do all the legwork then throws in a few lines of flowery prose and takes all the credit. No way I’m working with J.R. or anyone else on this.”
“But you’re not even with the magazine—you’re a freelancer. We’ve got to have one of our regular journalists on this. It’s too damned big and we have the magazine’s reputation to think about.”
Jennifer was so enraged she wanted to scream. Who did this jerk think he was trying to steal her story and hand it to someone else?
“J.R. Welch has won a Pulitzer. He can help you whip this material into shape in no time. And time is of the essence.”
“I have a written contract for this piece.”
“You have a contract to do a series on Benjamin Locke and American Patriots. It says nothing about digging into the political lives of Kieger, Dubois, or Fowler. Face it, this thing has turned into something much bigger than what was in your original scope of work. I have the contract right here in front of me. Do you want me to read it to you?”
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