Another long pause. Then Jolene said, “There are lawyers all over Washington. Look up criminal defense attorneys. Goodbye, Oleg.” She clicked off.
FIFTY
FRIDAY AFTERNOON;
JACKSON, WYOMING
“TAKING THE FBI’S LEARJET BACK to D.C. is the way to go,” Phil Pickering said, strapping himself in. “I’m glad we can fly back without changing planes. I think we’ve done all we can do here, and with the Denver contingent staying in town to tie up loose ends, we all need to get back.”
“I’m with you. I can’t wait to get out of here,” Samantha said, “This is the second time I’ve been in Jackson, and the second time something terrible has happened.”
“Oh? I didn’t know,” the Secretary replied. “What was it?”
Samantha gave him a summary of the hiking trip she and her late husband had taken several years ago. “It left me with a fear of heights, among other things.”
“I’m sure that tram ride didn’t help,” Pickering said.
“It didn’t. But I kept my eyes closed,” she said with a faint smile.
“Well, you recovered wonderfully and gave a bang-up speech. It was the one highlight of this whole affair,” he said.
“I caught the tail end of it,” Brett said from the seat behind them. “Great job.”
“You’re the one who did a great—no, make that spectacular—job,” Samantha said, turning around to face him.
“I agree,” Dom said.
The four of them talked about next steps in the investigation, the search for the culprits, announcements that should be made to the press, and how quickly they thought they could solve the case.
None of the other photos had triggered anything in the databases, but two of the interviews had given them leads. One was from a hotel clerk who worked at the Teton Mountain Lodge. She recognized the two Russians since they had stayed there the previous week. The second was from a clerk who said they checked into her hotel a few days before the conference began. Her records showed the men had checked out the morning of the planned attack.
That bit of news made it even more likely that Lubov and Stas were involved. They must have come to Jackson to scope out the area, made their plans, and then returned to execute them.
“First thing I need to do when we get back is talk to the Russian Ambassador,” Secretary Pickering said. “We need their help tracking down these men, especially any connections they have here in the states. After all, one of their officials was at the conference along with Alexander Tepanov. I spoke with him at the lodge, and he said he’d see what he could do with the authorities back home. So far, the Kremlin isn’t talking.”
“Shades of Snowden. They don’t talk about him either,” Brett muttered. “Whoever they are, I’m sure they haven’t left the country. We got the Interpol Red Notice out so damn fast, they’ll be stopped if they try to fly anywhere.”
“You’re right. I’m sure they’re waiting it out somewhere. We should get some reliable hits on them soon, though. Those pictures are on every newscast and social media outlet, and your press conference, Mr. Secretary, is all over the internet, thanks to YouTube. The bureau has already receive tons of calls from people who thought they might have seen them. They’re checking everything now,” Dom said.
“After that news conference,” Pickering said, “the media kept asking to interview you, Brett. Of course, we didn’t let them. We always protect our agents and their identities.”
“Thanks. Appreciate staying anonymous if I can,” Brett said.
“They still want to know exactly how you disarmed all of the explosives, though. I wasn’t about to tell them. I want to get that detection device and the bomb pre-emptor over to the SecDef. After you proved how effective they were, I believe the Pentagon should begin their own tests.”
“That’s what I thought when we first got those demos,” Dom said.
“I doubt if I could have found all six packs of C-4 without them. Not with the little time I had,” Brett said.
Samantha turned to face Brett again. “You were amazing. You might have found some of them, but tossing that BPE on the tower was the best move I’ve ever heard.”
“Just trying to channel LeBron I guess. Actually, it was a lucky shot,” Brett said.
“Everyone was lucky to have you two out there,” the Secretary said. “I know you worked late trying to come up with a list of suspects, and you haven’t had much rest. So, I’m going to leave you two alone and let you catch some shut-eye.”
“Okay, thanks,” Dom said. “We’ll go over everything again before we land.”
When the jet began its descent to Dulles Airport, they buckled their seat belts. Once on the ground, they turned their cell phones back on. Brett saw he had an urgent text from Trevor. He called his boss as they taxied to the FBO.
“You’re not going to believe this,” Trevor said, answering on the first ring.
“What?” Brett said. “We’re landing at Dulles right now.”
“I just finished a meeting with a lawyer who says he represents a client named Otto. Ring any bells?”
“The Naples waiter?” Brett shouted. Samantha looked back at him, and he put up his hand in a “wait-a-second” gesture as he listened to Trevor.
“The kid is in D.C. Been here for a while. He wants to come in and cut a deal.”
“What kind of deal would we possibly give him?” Brett asked.
“A deal where he tells us where he thinks Lubov and Nickolai are right now.”
“He knows their location? Was he involved in the bomb threat?”
“Nope. Says he heard them talking about a plan, but he had no part in it. The lawyer says the kid will explain everything if we grant him immunity. Turns out that when he saw their pictures on TV, he recognized them as friends of his uncles, who evidently told him to follow Samantha Reid.”
“Incredible,” Brett said breathlessly. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got a meeting lined up with the Director in an hour,” Trevor said. “We’ll go over the details and sort it out. But we’re going to make a decision fast. Those guys could be on the move.”
“We just pulled up to the FBO. We have a car waiting. I’ll be back in the office in less than an hour. Can I come with you to see the Director?” Brett asked.
“Sure. Get your ass in here, and we’ll figure it out with the Director,” Trevor said and clicked off.
Brett turned to the others. “I don’t know how much of that you heard, but the Naples waiter has offered to cut a deal and tell us where the Russians are. They have a connection to his uncles who could be the real culprits.”
“That’s fantastic,” Samantha exclaimed, unfastening her seat belt and standing up.
“Now this is an incredibly lucky break,” the Treasury Secretary said. “I need to get back to my office, and I’m sure Samantha wants to get to the White House, but let’s have the driver drop you at FBI headquarters first.”
“Are you sure?” Brett and Dom both said at the same time.
“Absolutely.”
FIFTY-ONE
SUNDAY EVENING;
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.
“HI, BRETT, COME ON IN,” Samantha said, opening the door to her apartment. “I’m so glad you can take a quick break for dinner. All I’ve been able to think about for the last forty-eight hours is what you did for me and everybody else on that mountain.”
Brett walked in and handed her a bottle of pinot noir. “This one okay?”
“Perfect,” she said, leading the way to her tiny kitchen. “You’re in good company, by the way. Even though it’s Sunday, I just got home. I don’t think the word ‘weekend’ is in the White House’s vocabulary. Can’t be helped, though. Things have been absolutely insane with all the news coverage, but probably not as crazy as what’s going on at the FBI.”
“I’ll fill you in,” Brett said, opening a drawer to get the wine opener. “We’ve all been pulling the late shift to track
down every bit of evidence we can find to build the case against those Russians.”
“How did your second meeting with the lawyer go? Are you going to bring Otto in?”
“Yes,” Brett said, pouring some wine and handing her a glass. “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. Can I help you with that?”
She pointed to plates of sliced tomatoes and mozzarella. “You can take those to the table. I’ll get the veal parmesan. I picked it up at a deli on the way home since I didn’t have time to cook anything. Hope it’s all right.”
“Whatever you have will be great,” he said with a grin.
She lit some candles on the dining table and sat down. “Now, tell me about the meeting.”
He joined her at the table and sampled the tomatoes. “As you know, Trevor and I met with the Director on Friday and Saturday. We all decided that the gravity and scale of the bombing attempt outweighed the actions of that kid. So, we agreed to negotiate with the lawyer. We haven’t started the negotiations yet, but the attorney has already convinced us that we made the right decision. During our meeting with him today, he gave us even more details about Otto’s story and how much he could help us.”
“What details?” she asked, tasting the wine. “This is good, by the way. Thanks.”
“Otto is ready to tell us what he knows about his uncles’ so-called businesses, which include arms trafficking to certain groups. He also overheard his uncles talking to the Russian mafia guys—he calls them Lubov and Stas—about a plan to make a ton of money. It sounds like the kid knows what he’s talking about, and we’re going to need his testimony when we arrest these guys and bring them to trial.”
“Do you really think he’ll testify against his own uncles?”
“Only if we give him immunity, disguise his voice, let him stay here, and put him in our witness protection program. It’s all pretty involved, but it’ll be worth it.”
“What about the Naples explosion, the hit-and-run, and the gunshot?”
“That’s all part of the negotiation. There are a ton of things we could charge him with under section eighteen of the criminal code. Our legal staff is working on that right now.”
“Well, I hope they hurry. Those Russians could be moving around,” she ventured as she finished her tomato salad.
“Apparently, Otto thinks they’re hiding out somewhere they feel fairly safe. If we can get a quick read from legal, we’re going to bring him in first thing tomorrow and try to cut the deal.”
“Do you think I should see him at some point? Maybe make an ID or something?” she asked.
“I thought about that. But I wasn’t sure if you’d want to face him after everything he put you through.”
“Trailing me around D.C. and even taking a shot at me is absolutely nothing compared to placing explosives that could have killed the most important financial leaders in the world. I can’t even imagine what would have happened to world markets if those bombs had gone off,” she said.
“You all could have been killed, and you’re thinking about how that would have impacted the stock market?” he asked.
“Wait a minute. Could that have been the motive? Crashing the markets so that the Russians could benefit somehow?” Samantha said with a startled look.
He put his fork down and stared at her. He suddenly remembered talking to Nori about her hearing references to the markets. “That’s it. We’ve been grappling with motives from the get-go. When it didn’t look like terrorism, we knew it had to be bigger than just getting rid of you and your investigations. But we hadn’t really analyzed the financial meltdown angle.” He picked up his water glass. “Samantha, you’re brilliant.” He touched it to her wine glass in mock salute and took a drink.
“The more I think about it, it’s the one thing that makes sense,” she said. “If those guys had shorted the market, they would have made a killing. Anyone who knew about their plan could have made a bunch of trades, like shorting the Dow or the S&P. We would just need to find their broker and see if they really did do that. Then we’d have a huge piece of evidence right there.” She took a bite of veal and then stopped. “I have an idea.”
“Another one?” Brett asked. “You’re on a roll.”
“Remember Alexander Tepanov?”
“Yeah. I saw a clip of him saying he didn’t know the two Russians.”
“I saw the same clip. He looked extremely uncomfortable, which makes sense. I did a bit of research on him earlier to see if we might be able to convince him to help us close down some of the money laundering accounts we’re tracking. He looks pretty corrupt to me.”
“So, what are you saying?” Brett asked.
“What if I could get through to him? Find out if he knows anything about those guys or Otto’s uncles. Or maybe he could help us figure out where and how those men made their trades. If they made any, that is.”
Brett pulled out his cell and called Trevor. He quickly went over Samantha’s theory about the bombing motive and her idea about getting to Tepanov. He listened for a moment, gave her a thumbs up, and then pocketed the phone. “He’s on board. He says that if you can sound out Tepanov, we can send our people over to take his deposition.”
“I need to run this by the NSC Advisor. Do we need to get the FBI director on board too?”
“Trevor will handle that.”
“Okay, then I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow,” Samantha said. “Now, back to the markets. They haven’t moved much in the past few days. But if we can actually arrest and convict those Russians and reassure the public, I’ll bet the DOW will shoot up.”
“Could happen,” Brett said.
“And, depending on how much they had riding on this, they might be pretty wiped out,” Samantha said with a wide smile.
“If we can prove all of this, in addition to nailing them and getting convictions, their organizations will have nothing left to buy arms and drugs with,” Brett said. “Talk about a collapse. The best part is, if your theory pans out, they did it to themselves.”
“When do you think you can arrest them?” she asked.
“If Otto confirms any of this tomorrow and gives us an address, we’ll move as quickly as possible.”
Brett poured more wine for Samantha and finished his veal. For the first time in over a week, he felt optimistic. This nightmare of an investigation was finally coming to a close, and he was having dinner with a beautiful woman. A smart woman who was also helping him solve the case better than any partner the FBI could have assigned him.
It was hard not to think of her as a colleague. He felt like he knew her better than people he had spent years working with. While he had been her bodyguard, she had told him about growing up in Texas and about all the life lessons her father had taught her. She also shared some of her experiences managing the countless threats that came to her directorate. But no matter how difficult or distressing those stories were to tell, she never lost her calm or subtle sense of humor. And that floored him.
The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to be with her. Sure, she was easy on the eyes, but there were a lot of gorgeous women in D.C. He saw them every day, but none of them affected him the way she did.
Samantha got up to clear the table. “Would you like some coffee? I also picked up chocolate chip cookies.”
Brett carried the rest of the plates to the kitchen. “Coffee and cookies would be great. I’ll have to go back to work after that, though.” He was standing close to her, inhaling her scent. She must use special shampoo or something. Whatever it was, he liked it. When she straightened up, she paused and looked at him. Was that an invitation to come closer? He didn’t know, but he hoped it was.
Suddenly, her buzzer sounded. “Who would come here at this hour?” Samantha muttered as she walked to the intercom. “Yes?”
A girl’s voice said, “Flowers for Samantha Reid.”
“On a Sunday? It must be a special delivery or something. Just a moment.”
“I’ll get them,
” Brett said. “Be right back.”
As Samantha poured the coffee, Brett walked back in her apartment carrying a large vase filled with roses. “Girl said they had a lot of weekend orders, so she decided to work overtime to make all of their deliveries. Here you go,” he said, setting the vase on the kitchen counter.
Samantha looked at the beautiful arrangement and grabbed the card. She opened the tiny envelope and read the message: So glad you are safe. Love, Tripp.
FIFTY-TWO
MONDAY MORNING;
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
“FBI. OPEN UP!”
“What the hell,” Vadim said in a low voice, grabbing his pistol from a drawer in his desk.
Maksim, Lubov, and Stas rushed in from their rooms. “What’s happening?” Stas asked.
“Quiet,” Vadim hissed. “This has to be another one of your screw-ups,” he added, aiming the barb at Lubov and Stas. “You got your stupid faces splattered all over TV. Someone around here must have spotted you and called the feds. We should have kicked you out of here as soon as we got back from Jackson.”
Maksim walked slowly toward his brother. “But remember we talked about feeling safe here. I’m sure they’re watching all the airports. Besides, we had to be sure Lubov and Stas didn’t implicate us if they were picked up separately.” He motioned to the others. “There’s a service exit in the kitchen. Maybe we can get out that way.”
The foursome moved cautiously, trying not to make any noise while the pounding continued.
“Maybe they’ll think we left town,” Lubov said.
“They’ll still come in,” Vadim mumbled.
Just before they reached the exit, a platoon of agents crashed through the door and burst into the room. Vadim spun around and fired his pistol while the others hid behind the kitchen door. The bullet tore through the front door, and an agent returned fire, hitting Vadim in the leg. He yelled, dropped his gun, tried to grab his leg, and fell backwards, knocking over a floor lamp.
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