The agent took a vacant chair. “What’s up?”
The man’s casual attitude grated on Dean, but he told Chapman what he wanted.
“I’m sure we can come to a mutually agreeable solution. I know you checked me out as thoroughly as I checked you.”
“Walk with me.”
As they sauntered down a path into the trees, Chapman looked over his shoulder. “I can do anything you want.”
Dean did the same. “What’s it going to cost me?”
“With all the money that goes through your project, I’m sure you won’t miss four hundred grand. Half for me and half for Strickland.”
“Ridiculous.”
“I think not.” Chapman pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. “Especially with what’s at stake. The targets are contagious.”
“How—”
“News travels fast.”
“All right.” Dean stepped out of the path of the smoke. “Agreed. What do you suggest?”
“Let’s say Kincaid and his friend stole classified documents or even kidnapped your wife.”
“You know.”
“Investigation.” Chapman smiled and took another drag on his cigarette. “Odds are you killed her, but that’s your business so long as I get paid.”
“Okay, what can I do to help?”
“Plant the evidence at Kincaid’s and I’ll get a warrant.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort.”
“Call it insurance.” Chapman dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his foot. “I want you to be involved.”
“Okay, it should be exciting. We can make this perfectly legal and kill them.”
Dean recalled that he and Kincaid had bought new home computers and software the same day. This was too easy. They even had the same laser printers. So it’d be simple to draft a letter on his computer and leave it in Kincaid’s paper tray.
“I’ll have the warrant faxed.”
“And I’ll send Strickland to watch Sable.”
“I’ll need you here when I call Judge Blackston.”
In the conference room at Fort Greely, Dean dialed the judge, introduced himself, and explained his story minus the information on the project.
“This is irregular. I can’t approve a warrant without some type of evidence or probable cause.”
“I have Defense Investigative Service Agent Sam Chapman on a conference call. I know it’s late, but the DIS needs a Federal warrant for search and seizure of classified documents.”
“I’ll get one tomorrow.”
“If you don’t act, Dr. Kincaid’ll have the time to dispose of the documents.”
“Is this true, Agent Chapman?”
“Yes, sir, it is.” Chapman leaned back in his chair and chuckled silently.
“What’s the project you’re working on?”
“You should know, Carl. Cindy should’ve told you.”
The speaker crackled with static. “That’s Judge Blackston to you, General Dean.”
“Stop stalling and get us the warrant,” Dean said. “Carl and Charles, we make a good team. We’ve both screwed Cindy and now she’s gone. You wouldn’t want your wife and the newspapers to get some very explicit photographs, would you?”
Silence.
“Doctor Kincaid may have kidnapped Cindy.” He had made his point. Now, he would get full and immediate cooperation.
“I will get the district attorney in here and expedite the process as I would with any other warrant.”
“No problem, Judge. As an honest and concerned citizen, I have no recourse other than to tell the Alaska State Troopers I have discovered you and Cindy are having an affair. Interesting my wife was heading to Fairbanks when she turned up missing. She must have been going to see you.”
“Kincaid didn’t kidnap Cindy.”
“Remember the photographs.”
“Go ahead and tell the troopers, newspapers, and my wife.” The judge laughed. “I’ve already told her. Besides, from what Cindy told me, you’re involved in her disappearance.”
“You’re wrong. I’m a concerned husband trying to find out what happened to my wife.”
“Well, I’ll get my own investigators to check her and you.”
“The warrant.”
“You’ll get it, but only because you have corroborating testimony. I’ll send the fax in an hour or so.” The line went dead.
Dean’s conversation hadn’t gone as well as he’d expected. He cursed. He’d played his hand too soon. It didn’t pay to have a judge against you.
He glared at the agent. “Make yourself useful; make some coffee while we wait.”
“I’m going to make some money.”
Dean stretched and got up from the chair. He needed to get back home and do some planning.
As Dean entered his den, he pondered ways to eliminate himself as a suspect. He sat at the desk and stared at his computer. He turned on the computer, accessed his word processor, and started typing a kidnap letter. His glance rested on two red-covered documents marked “TOP SECRET” next to the terminal and he patted them lovingly. Damn, he needed gloves, rubber gloves. The plan was coming together.
For now, Dean had to be careful. He tried to remember Kincaid’s den from a party he’d attended months ago.
Chapter 17
Sable placed his hand on the detachment office’s doorknob. The pressure and whisper of a bullet caressed the air near his face. He dropped, rolled, and came up to a kneeling position behind a tree, pistol in hand. A soft crack sounded and a bullet sprayed bark and wood splinters into his face. He cautiously peered around the tree, his gaze sweeping the area across the street. A shadow drew behind a birch. Sable took aim. From another direction, a bullet hit him in the chest and threw him backward.
Sable rolled, fired several times, and heard a yelp from the tree line of birch and aspen. As he rubbed his chest through the body armor, he clenched his teeth from the excruciating pain. As luck would have it, he and Masters were returning from a drug bust and he still wore armor.
Masters dove through the door and rolled beside him behind a nearby tree. “You must have really pissed someone off. Where are the bad guys?”
Sable pointed out the targets to Masters. “You take the one to the right and I’ll go after the one on the left.”
“Gotcha.” Masters fired several shots, jumped right, and was gone.
Sable fired in the direction of his assailant and leapt up. Two bullets whizzed by, cutting off small branches from a nearby tree. He raced to a white storage shed where he flattened himself against the wall. Gun at the ready, he peeked around the corner and saw a figure running through the wooded area.
Sable fired again and gave chase, but he was met with the spray of gravel followed by the squeal of tires on pavement. When he got to the street, the taillights of a dark car flashed once in the distance and, in the receding glow, he saw white government plates.
“Dean’s men.” Sable cursed under his breath.
“I lost my desperado.” Masters caught up. “Find anything?”
As Sable headed back to the detachment, he told Masters what had happened. “I didn’t think Dean’d play his hand this quick.”
“Don’t you think Amy should take a vacation?”
“She and Bobby are already in Taku.”
“Good. Now we can play hard ball.”
The desk sergeant poked his head out the door as Sable and Masters reached the steps. “Got a call for you. The guy says he’s Judge Blackston.”
Sable caught the significance of Masters’ stare.
Chapter 18
Darkness closed in on Dean and he wiped his hands on his trousers. The luminous dial of his watch said it was almost ten p.m. His muscles knotted up while he crouched uncomfortably behind a tree. The SWAT team lay some eighty feet from the house. Next to him, and as uncomfortable, were Ramsey and the agents. Under his shirt, a large, padded envelope containing a letter and classified documents pressed into Dean’s s
kin. “Where’s the warrant?”
“It’ll be here.” Chapman raised a silver flask in salute and took a swig. “Moral courage.”
“What do we need it for?” Dean stood and stretched behind the tree.
“The courage or the warrant?”
“Either.”
“One relaxes me, the other protects us legally.”
“I can’t take this waiting much longer.” Dean hunched back down. “Have you got a make on the vehicle yet?”
Ramsey talked into a headset. “HQ says it’s registered to Lee McNeal from Cantwell. She used to work for the Mount McKinley Wildlife Research Center. Her grandfather lives in Kanashig.”
“Kanashig?”
“Yeah,” Chapman said. “It’s a couple hours east.”
A car door shut. Dean looked over his shoulder and stood as an agent jogged toward them.
Ramsey pulled Dean down. “Our warrant.”
An agent slid down beside the men. “Who gets the bad news?”
“Give it to me,” Dean said and turned to face Ramsey. “Well, now what’s keeping you?”
Ramsey spoke into his mike, drew his pistol, and then fired it in the air. Its report shattered the silence, bright spotlights illuminated the house, and he said into the loudspeaker, “Dr. Kincaid, Dr. Nelson, you have one minute to surrender or we’re coming in. We have a warrant to search your premises for classified documents.”
The announcement was met with silence, but a light came on. Dean fidgeted. Seconds ticked away as he watched the dial on his watch. The colonel raised his right arm and spoke into the mike.
“Just a minute,” a sleepy voice said. “I’m coming out.”
“It’s Nelson.” Dean pulled his gun.
The kitchen porch light snapped on. Red stepped out and raised his hands. “You’re insane. Neither of us stole classified documents.”
“Stand where you are.” Ramsey clicked on the speaker.
Red dropped a hand to his chest.
“He’s going for a gun,” someone yelled.
Several rifles spit a hail of bullets, then other weapons joined. The barrage slammed Red’s body against the door; red splotches blossomed across his chest. Red slipped to the porch leaving a swath of blood down the wall. Agents and soldiers hit the house from all sides. Two soldiers stood on each side of the front door with their rifles at the ready. Two others thudded the door with a battering ram. On the third strike, hinges creaked, the locks snapped and the door exploded inward.
“Keep the soldiers away from the body,” Dean snapped. A mixture of spent cordite and gunpowder wafted on the air. God, he loved the smell.
“They know,” Ramsey said.
They entered, one right, one left.
“Clear.” Ramsey moved forward in a crouch toward the house and Dean, along with the agents, followed.
“Remove your men from the house and have them maintain perimeter security.”
“But—”
“Now.”
“We don’t need them tramping over evidence.” Chapman stepped up on the front porch, and then turned to the agents.
“Strickland, take the kitchen and Chapman, start in the living room.”
“Got it,” they said simultaneously.
“I’ll join you,” Dean said and motioned for Ramsey to leave.
After the colonel left, Chapman and Strickland ensured the rest of the house was clear, and Dean stepped into the front room.
“Make it quick.” Chapman slammed his pistol into its holster with a snap. “I’ll guard your backside.”
“No shit.” Dean headed for the den. At the door, he paused and looked over his shoulder, ensuring he was alone. Then he slipped on his gloves, went in, turned on the light, and closed the door. After extracting the large envelope and removing the contents, he slid into the chair in front of the computer. Though his hands felt hot and sweaty, he took a deep breath, turned on the computer, slipped his disk into the drive and copied the file to the hard drive. Then he slipped the “Top Secret” files into the drawer and the letter into the printer. After he made a quick survey to ensure he didn’t miss anything, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and left.
“Finished?” Chapman looked up from the coffee table, a phone cradled between his neck and shoulder.
Dean gave the high sign and slipped the rubber gloves into his pocket.
“I checked the phone records, but these guys were pretty slick. They made reservations with several airlines to throw us off.”
“I wonder if Kincaid took one.” Dean tried to calm his breathing. All he needed was to get Kincaid.
“I doubt it.”
Pulsing sirens broke the conversation. When Dean drew the curtains aside, he saw red and blue flashing lights—white sedans, pickups, and Blazers. “What the hell? What are troopers doing here?”
Chapman joined him. “How’d they find out this was going down?”
“Blackston.”
Troopers stepped from their vehicles and went into defensive crouches behind doors, weapons drawn.
“Oh shit. What in the hell are they doing here?” Dean recognized Sable. “I thought you killed him.”
“We missed—a small omission. Don’t worry. We’ll get him next time.”
“You’d better.”
“Drop your weapons!” Sable announced over the loud speaker. “You’re under arrest—illegal search and seizure.”
“We’re going to see a blood bath. You’d better do something.” Chapman looked past Dean’s shoulder.
“I guess it’s up to me to clear this up.” Dean pulled the warrant from his breast pocket, raised his hands, and walked out of the house.
As Dean approached, Sable leaned into the cruiser and lifted a folded sheet of paper from the dash. He held the document in the air. “This warrant supersedes yours.”
“Mine’s signed by Judge Carl Blackston.”
“So’s mine, but mine specifically cancels yours.” Sable handed him the document.
Dean scanned it, casually raised one arm in resignation, and motioned downward. “Put down your weapons, the troopers have the authority.”
“The soldiers need to drop their weapons and leave. You and the DIS agents can stay.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re under arrest.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You forget you’re no longer on a federal installation.”
“What are you going to do, shoot me and my men?”
“If necessary.”
“Well, my men are taking Dr. Nelson back to the project.”
“No. I have a team from the CDC and Public Health Service. They have protective suits.”
“You—”
“Face it. You’re no longer in control,” Sable said.
“Don’t bet on it,” Dean said and laughed. “Kincaid and Nelson stole classified documents—U.S. property.”
“Planted most likely.” Sable looped his fingers around his belt. His gaze didn’t telegraph any emotion.
Sable’s radio crackled. “I found something you got to see.”
“Can I go?” Dean shrugged, knowing they’d found the letter.
“After we’ve finished.”
Dean glared.
“General, you don’t scare me and neither do your hired thugs.”
When Sable entered the den, Masters motioned him over to the desk. “It looks bad.”
“What does?” Sable pulled on his gloves, looked into the drawer. “It’s a plant.”
“Look in the paper tray. Your friend’s in deep shit.” Masters gestured to the printer. “I left everything the way it was until you saw it.”
“Dust for fingerprints and I want everything photographed.” Sable jotted a few notes down in his notepad. “Then check the files on the computer, the date they were created.”
“What do you see? I don’t see anything out of place.”
“Look at the letter.”
“Damn, I�
��d have never caught it. It’s face up.”
“If the letter was printed on this printer, there will be ghost image on the drum. And if any files were copied to Kincaid’s hard drive they’ll still have the originator’s tags.” Sable walked around the desk to see if he could find anything out of place. “Though we know it’s a plant, we need to put out an APB, but we’re not going to look for Kincaid very hard. There are sweat drops next to the computer. Make sure the techs collect them. We now have his DNA.”
Masters grinned. “Yeah, Dean made a mistake.”
“I’ll check with the rest of the men.”
Sable wandered through the house checking on his investigators. It looked like the only thing Bill could be convicted for was his neatness and his strength of character. If Sable had been minutes away or a little faster, Red might be alive. How would he tell Bill his friend was dead?
“We’re ready,” Masters said.
“Then bring them in.”
As Dean and Chapman entered the den, Strickland pointed to the open desk drawer. “We’ve got him now—the documents.”
Dean headed toward the drawer.
“Not so fast.” Sable moved to block him.
Chapman’s hand went to his jacket.
“You don’t want to do it.” Masters drew his pistol.
“What’s that?” Chapman asked.
“It’s my bear and varmint gun.” Masters sat on the edge of the desk. “A .44 Mag—small hole in, huge one going out. I use Talons.”
“Partner, you know—” Sable said.
“Must have been a mix up and I grabbed the wrong issue from my locker.”
When Sable looked at Masters, he could’ve sworn the sergeant winked. “I have something I’d like you to see.”
Dean took the letter and scanned it. He grabbed the side of the desk and staggered. Chapman braced him under the shoulder. “What in the hell? Kincaid kidnapped my wife?”
“It’s what the letter implies.” Sable fought the temptation to smile at Dean’s lousy acting.
“What are you going to do about this?”
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