Death Never Lies

by David Grace

  “No, I want my own man checking things out, someone I trust.”

  “That’s going to be difficult. Secret Service isn’t going to like that one bit.”

  “Jurisdictional pissing matches aren’t my primary concern right now. The Secret Service is part of Homeland and you’re the Principal Deputy Undersecretary. I don’t think they’re going to tell you ‘No.’“

  “I understand your concern, Senator, but I don’t have the training for something like that. Let me see if I can find an experienced Secret Service agent in another division who could give you a more professional evaluation.”

  “Don’t bother. You’ve got an agent in Homeland, a Gregory Kane. My niece knows him. It seems that he’s made quite an impression on her. I’d like him to check out Hopper’s security and give me a report.”

  “Kane? I’ve never heard of him. What division is he in?”

  “I don’t know but according to my niece he’s got good skills, besides Kane’s partner was killed running some kind of surveillance on Hopper’s daughter so Kane’s motivated to get into this.”

  Motivated? Roger Dawson thought. This sounds like a shit-storm in the making.

  “First I’ll need to find out if he’s available. Let me pull up his file and see what other cases he’s working on.”

  “I can tell you that. He’s looking into the disappearance of some administrator at HHS.” Denning waited but Dawson said nothing. “I’m sure his missing person’s case can go on hold for a few days. . . . Roger?”

  “Umm, sorry Senator. You know to get approval for this I’m going to have to call the Director.”

  “Call whoever you need to. Use my name if you have to. I’m counting on you, Roger, to make this happen.”

  “All right,” Dawson said after a long pause. “I’ll get this Gregory Kane authorized to review Hopper’s protection arrangements and then give me a report which I’ll forward to you. I’ll brief him tomorrow as soon as I get the Director’s approval.”

  “No, I want to tell him personally what I expect of him. You just get Kane clearance from the Secret Service and have him in my office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

  “All right,” Dawson said, defeated. “It’s too late tonight but I’ll call the Director and Kane’s supervisor first thing in the morning.”

  “Good. Thanks, Roger. I knew that I could count on you. I won’t forget your help.”

  Shit! Shit! Shit! Dawson thought as he hung up the phone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  When he entered the bull pen all eyes turned in Kane’s direction and the sounds of clicking keys and muted conversations dwindled then died. Kane froze in mid-step and looked from face to face for some clue as to what had gone wrong. Danny’s head shifted a fraction of a degree and Greg followed Rosewood’s gaze to Immerson’s office where the boss stood in the doorway, stiff and glaring.

  “Kane!” Immerson jerked his hand like a kid grabbing a fly.

  By the time Greg reached the office Immerson was already back behind his desk. A stranger who had been wedged into the corner chair stood. Greg automatically went into evaluation mode – fifteen-hundred-dollar suit, hundred-dollar tie, teeth that could only have been bleached that white with a five-hundred-dollar smile-center treatment.

  This could only be bad news. Somebody well above Kane’s pay grade wanted something from him and now, finally, with a plan for tracking down Mearle Farber, Kane was sure he wanted no part of it.

  “Greg, I’m Sebastian Wren,” the stranger said, smiling and extending his hand. Some kind of political animal, Kane decided, but with his leathery skin and trim physique Wren wasn’t a standard bureaucrat or politician. Law enforcement background of some kind, Kane concluded.

  “I’m the Special Assistant to the Principal Deputy Undersecretary for the Office of Intelligence & Analysis.”

  “It must be fun saying that at parties,” Kane replied with a twisted smile.

  “Kane!” Immerson’s face had gone from pale to pink in a heartbeat.

  “I mean, you meet a girl and she asks you what you do and you tell her that you’re the Special Assistant to the Principal Deputy Undersecretary for the Office of Intelligence & Analysis for the Department of Homeland Security and she must practically wet herself.”

  “Shit!” Immerson muttered and sagged back in his chair. “Sorry Sebastian. Kane has an unusual sense of humor that is often inappropriate.” Immerson said the last part with a hard glare that bounced off Kane with no apparent effect.

  “It’s okay, Frederick. I appreciate a man with a good sense of humor.”

  “I’m a laugh a minute,” Greg replied.

  “Kane . . . . oh, just sit down. Your expertise has been requested for a new assignment.”

  “Well, I am a whiz at balloon animals.”

  “Jesus, Kane, will you please give it a rest!”

  “I think Greg is trying to tell us that he doesn’t want a new assignment,” Wren said, looking at Kane. Greg returned the tiniest of nods. “I get it, I do, but that’s just too fucking bad. Your job is whatever your boss tells you it is and in this case the Deputy Undersecretary has given me my instructions and I’ve given Frederick his instructions and Frederick is going to give you your instructions and no matter how hard you try to make yourself persona non grata that’s how it’s going to be.” Wren stared at Greg for a long beat then pretended to see some sign of surrender in the agent’s face. “Okay, let me give you the rundown on your new job. You’ve heard about the incident at Justice Hopper’s home last night?”

  A woman showed up at the Justice’s front door with a gun and two hand grenades? You call that an incident? Greg thought, but recognizing the Don’t fuck with me! look on Wren’s face he just nodded.

  “A lot of people in Washington are very concerned about the threats on Justice Hopper’s life, among them Senator Arthur Denning.” Denning! Shit – Allison! Oh, fuck. “Do you know the senator?” Wren asked, reading the tightening around Kane’s eyes.

  “Never met him,” Kane answered in a flat tone.

  Wren thought that over for a moment then continued. “Senator Denning called Deputy Undersecretary Dawson last night and requested a personal briefing on the Secret Service’s protection arrangements for Justice Hopper. Your name came up.”

  “Send somebody else.”

  “The senator specifically asked for you. What do you think about that, since you say you don’t know him?”

  Kane glanced at Immerson whose gaze looked like it might melt steel.

  “I know someone in his office, socially. His chief of staff.”

  “His niece.” It wasn’t a question.

  “His niece? Allison Varner?” Wren gave him a little shrug. Fuck! Kane mouthed.

  “So you didn’t ask for this job?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe there was a little pillow talk about how much you wished that you could be involved in the search for your partner’s killer? Maybe you hinted that it sure would be nice if somebody could pull a few strings to get you transferred over to Secret Service?”

  Kane was half out of his seat before he got control and forced himself back down. Wren watched him with an almost amused smile.

  “I never wanted any part of the Hopper thing and I don’t want it now. That was Useless’ dream, not mine, and look what it got him.”

  “Useless?” Wren turned to Immerson.

  “Agent Kane’s colorful nickname for his former partner, Grant Eustace.”

  Wren pursed his lips then shrugged. “Well, Kane, we’re a long way past that now. It doesn’t matter what you want or what you don’t want. You’ve got the job, like it or not.”

  “You expect me to go over to the Secret Service and say ‘Hi guys. I’m here to rate your operation and tell a U.S. Senator if you’re screwing things up’? I wonder how well that’s going to work?”

  “I’m sure they’ll give you every professional courtesy.” Wren almost laughed out loud. “But first you�
��ve going to be briefed by Senator Denning. He’s the one you’re really working for, after all.”

  “I’m reporting to him?”

  “Technically, you’re reporting to me and I’m going to make your evaluation available to the senator but practically speaking, he’s the boss.” Wren glanced at his watch. “You’re due in the senator’s office at ten o’clock.”

  If this was all to keep Denning happy then if the senator should become unhappy with me. . . . Maybe there’s a way out of this after all. Kane thought. Greg’s sudden, twisted smile made Immerson’s heart skip a beat.

  * * *

  Kane had never been in a U.S. senator’s office before but it looked pretty much like he expected – a fancy lobby, a big room full of lots of earnest young people taking phone calls, opening letters and typing on computers and, finally, a formal office with leather chairs and heavy furniture and walls covered with photos and nineteenth-century landscapes. Kane had looked for Allison on the way in but she was nowhere to be seen. She probably had one of the smaller offices off the main work area Kane decided. Was this her idea? Does she even know I’m here? Given her fear of emotional intimacy he doubted that she wanted him in her office any more than he wanted to be here.

  “Mr. Kane,” the senator said, standing and offering his hand, “thank you for coming.” Denning was coatless. Red and blue suspenders and an ochre and black bow tie adorned a starched, white shirt. His face was heavy beneath thinning black hair mostly turned to gray and his smile failed to reach all the way to his tired blue eyes. “Please have a seat.”

  “I think Allison has given you the wrong impression about me,” Kane said, ignoring the proffered chair. “I’m not a security expert. I’ve never run a protection detail. I have no training in threat assessment. I’m just a retread cop who spends most of his time running down crooked vendors and corrupt paper pushers.”

  “Sit down, please,” Denning repeated. Reluctantly Kane took the valued-campaign-contributor leather chair directly in front of the desk. “I assume you’ve done a little research on me,” the senator began.

  “I’ve been a little busy chasing real criminals.”

  “Not even a Google search?” Denning asked.

  “I never made it to my desk this morning and I’ve never seen the appeal of viewing the world through a four-inch screen.”

  “You weren’t even a little curious about me when you and Allison started dating?”

  Dating? Fucking, more like, but saying that, Kane decided, would just be mean.

  “I didn’t give you a second thought then and to be honest about it, I still don’t care.”

  “Not many people talk to me that way, Mr. Kane.”

  “One of the perks of being a cop is that I don’t have to kiss anyone’s ass.”

  “So, you like to tell it like it is and to hell with the consequences?” Kane just shrugged. “How do you know I won’t take offense and call up my friend the Deputy Undersecretary and have him assign you to catching people who steal pencils from the stock room?”

  “You’re not that kind of guy,” Kane said with easy certainty.

  “Oh, really? What kind of guy am I?”

  “I can tell you what kind of guy you’re not. You don’t spend a lot of time thinking about money. You don’t have a big ego. You don’t much care what other people think of you.” Denning opened his mouth to ask a question but Kane cut him off. “You have a curious mind and you like learning how things work. You’re a ‘big-picture’ guy. You would consider any act that was petty or mean as a failure of character.”

  “Have you ever considered a career in palm reading?” Denning asked in a sarcastic tone.

  “You’re thinking of retiring but you don’t want anyone to know.”

  Denning’s lips parted then he recovered and took a breath.

  “I’d be interested in knowing how you came to those conclusions. I’m assuming my niece is partially to blame.”

  “Not at all. In fact, she never even told me that you two were related.”

  “Then how?”

  “The money part? That’s easy. You’re wearing a $35 Casio watch. Your average plutocrat would rather die than have something on his wrist that didn’t cost at least two or three thousand dollars. Plus that shirt is half a size too small across your chest which means it’s off-the-rack, not the custom tailored model that someone in your position could easily afford if they cared about stuff like that.”

  “And the part about my ego, or lack thereof?”

  “That picture of you and, what, a bunch of sixth graders at some park?”

  “It’s a summer camp for inner-city kids that I support. What about it?”

  “You’re wearing a dime-store Indian headdress.”

  “I sat in on their class on native Indian lore. So what?”

  “You look like an idiot and you’re laughing. Nobody with an ego would have put that thing on their head, leastwise allowed his picture to be taken wearing it, leastwise put it up on the wall of his office where everyone could see it.”

  “Maybe I hung it there because it’s good for my image.”

  “Bull. You put it there because it pleases you to think about helping those kids and to remind yourself of what you think you’re supposed to be doing here. That’s not the act of an egomaniac. That’s the mark of someone who thinks it’s important to care about other people. And while we’re at it, I’m guessing you paid for that camp yourself. Again, not the sort of thing that would be done by a guy who’s obsessed with money.”

  Denning stared at Kane then took a deep breath. “Anything else?”

  “Your tie totally gives you away. Half the people in this town think that wearing a blue suit with a red tie makes them look powerful which, for them, is the big prize. When you show up in a black bow tie with egg-yolk yellow dots on it you may as well carry a sign that says, ‘Fuck you, I don’t care what you think about me.’ As for the curious mind–”

  “Stop. I don’t need to hear any more.”

  Kane spread his hands as if to say, Fine, you asked.

  “Perhaps I should tell you a few things about yourself.” Kane shrugged. “You also don’t care what people think of you but for a different reason. You think most people are fools so their opinions don’t matter. Unfortunately for you, even though you don’t care what they think, you take personal offense at what you see as their stupidity. You think that because you’re smart that ordinary people should just quietly stand aside and do what you tell them and that they’re being petty and foolish when they don’t. You’re an angry man and part of you is afraid that it’s never going to stop.”

  “I–”

  “I’m not done. In spite of what my niece may have said, I wasn’t sure you were the right man for this job. It’s an understatement to say that Allison has not taken her husband’s death well. Emotionally, she’s a wreck and I have to take any opinions she might have about a man who’s having casual sex with her with a huge grain of salt. In fact, I would be a fool not to be extremely distrustful of the motives and character of such a man. That’s why I insisted on meeting you in person.”

  “Sorry I lived up to your fears rather than your hopes,” Kane said with a sour expression. “No hard feelings. I’m sure Deputy Undersecretary Dawson will be able to find you someone more suited to your needs.”

  “You live by a set of what are, for you, unbreakable rules,” Denning continued, purposely ignoring Kane’s remark. “One of which is that decent people should be protected and that bad people should be punished. Oh, don’t be so surprised, Mr. Kane. You’re not the only one who can read people. In your case you can take the boy out of the parochial school but you can’t take the parochial school out of the boy. One nice thing about being a U.S. Senator,” Denning said in response to the surprised look on Kane’s face, “is that I have a large and very skilled staff. Before I called Mr. Dawson I had my people, excluding Allison of course, do a thorough background check on you.”

 
“Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet,” Kane said sourly.

  “I believe one thing I read. You charged into automatic weapons fire to kill the man who murdered your friend.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Meaning that you don’t run scared. I might have had my doubts about your character and your motives when you came in, Mr. Kane, but your complete lack of concern for earning my good opinion of you or for any damage I might potentially do to your career if you give me answers I didn’t like has put them all to rest. Congratulations, Agent Kane. You’ve got the job.”

  “I don’t want the job.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m giving it to you. Now, let’s get down to business. Here’s what I want you to do.”

  Kane frowned then, reluctantly, extracted his pad and began to take notes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  When he left the senator’s office Kane spent about six seconds deciding what to do next. The standard, color-inside-the-lines bureaucrat or, in Kane’s view, moron, would have marched over to Secret Service headquarters, spent half an hour sitting on his ass until they had found somebody who was willing to spend the next half hour wasting his time with a bullshit briefing followed up with a prolonged orientation session which would not begin until well after lunch. Screw that, Kane thought and headed for the Supreme Court building on First Street N.E. Being polite and playing nice weren’t going to get him anywhere. The bosses would just give him phony smiles and bury him in bullshit until he got tired and went away. If he intended to get anyplace he needed to force a confrontation. He’d either win it and get the cooperation he needed or lose which would dump it all back in Denning’s lap.

  Step One, get in their face and find out if Denning really had the juice to make this work. His Homeland Security creds got him past the regular Court Security Officers, then he ran into the Secret Service agent assigned to Mr. Justice Hopper. As expected, the man treated him like a yokel who had gotten separated from his tour group.