by J. C. Fields
“Alan, the only person who needs to take the heat is Dollar. Everybody else is just doing their job. And, I might add, a lot more professionally.”
“I know. The director is listening to Dollar and no one else; there's a lot of politics involved.”
Kruger couldn’t believe what Seltzer had said. “Then the director is a fool. What about the innocent victims here in Kansas City? Should we just tell them politics is more important than catching the people responsible for the explosion? That’s wrong, Alan, and you know it.”
Seltzer was quiet for a long time. Finally he said, “I know. Paul is aware it’s wrong as well. He's a good man, Sean, and he’s trying to make changes, but it takes time.”
Kruger was now totally disgusted with the conversation. “He needs to try harder. I'll talk to you later.” He pressed the end call icon and tossed the cell phone on his desk.
Kruger leaned back in his desk chair and pressed his palms against his eyes. Was there a connection between the Imam suddenly visiting young male members of his mosque and the incident on the Cooper farm? His instinct told him there was.
He left his office and found Stephanie reading the Sunday Kansas City Times on the sofa.
“Let's take a walk,” he said.
They were a few minutes into the walk and he was holding her hand. “Let's suppose the incident on Cooper’s farm started a chain reaction within the group.”
She looked up at him. “Okay, what kind of chain reaction?”
Shaking his head, Kruger took a deep breath. “This is a stretch, but let’s suppose the C4 we found was designated for a huge terrorist attack. One they had planned for later.”
Stephanie nodded, but said nothing.
“The group leader is pissed, really pissed, and is pushing the group to find more explosives. But the group says it can’t be done in his timeline. Are you following me?”
“Yes.” She stared ahead, “What if this group’s leader decides he needs to move in another direction? What would be his next move?”
“Depends on if this is a domestic group, or a group from another country.”
“Sean, you know something, what is it?”
“There was a call from a Dallas payphone to an Imam in San Francisco. Did I mention one of the email computers is in Dallas?”
She shook her head.
“Well, it is. Now this Imam is visiting young single men from his mosque. About what, we don’t know, but I can guess.”
She took a deep breath. “Sean, they’re trying to find martyrs, aren’t they?”
Kruger nodded, but did not answer right away. “We’ve no proof or even a hint that’s what the Imam is doing. But higher ups in the agency don’t like the coincidence. Neither do I.”
“What if there is no connection?”
“There may not be.”
“Don’t you think you need to find out?”
Kruger walked in silence for several minutes contemplating. Finally he said, “I knew there was a reason I married you. That’s exactly what I need to do.”
They looked at each other and both started laughing. Suddenly to Kruger, the weight of the investigation was lifted from his shoulders and the only thing in the world was Stephanie holding his hand.
The feeling wouldn't last very long.
Chapter 27
Washington, D.C.
Monday
“I fail to understand why we are still committing resources against this investigation. It has been closed,” FBI Director Phillip Wagner said, standing next to the coffee service in his office. He had just poured himself a cup without offering one to Deputy Director Paul Stumpf or Alan Seltzer.
Director Wagner was a political appointee from the previous administration. He was unfamiliar with the internal workings of the FBI. He knew how to get funds and keep Congress at bay, but investigations were handled by others.
“Yes sir, that's the conclusion of Agent Dollar,” Stumpf said. “Unfortunately, he may have been premature in declaring the case resolved. We have evidence discovered last night of at least six more individuals involved.”
“Paul, do you realize how much damage will be done to the agency’s image if we retract our conclusions of last Friday?'“
“Sir, I understand there may be a few eyebrows raised. But if a network of domestic terrorists is targeting U.S. citizens, shouldn’t we keep the case open?”
Wagner walked back to the ceiling-to-floor window behind his desk. He gazed out the window slowly sipping his coffee. He kept his back to them as he spoke.
“There will be more than a few eyebrows raised. There will be congressional hearings and the media will have a feeding frenzy. We have no proof this man belonged to a group of domestic terrorists.” He turned slightly back toward them. “Gentlemen, I do not want those words used with the media, it will raise questions that do not need to be asked. Congress will demand to know why we dropped the ball. No, I don't believe we can go that direction. The case is closed.”
He returned to staring out the window.
“What if the killings continue?” Seltzer said, expecting another lecture on agency image.
The director turned to look at them again. “Then you deal with it, Mr. Seltzer. You deal with it. But it is not to be associated with the Cooper incident. Do I make myself clear?”
He turned back toward the window and sipped his coffee.
Paul Stumpf motioned for Alan to remain quiet and said, “Yes, sir, we understand. Thank you for your time this morning.”
He and Alan stood and left the office as the director continued facing the window as they left.
Stumpf walked quickly down the hall toward his office, Seltzer barely managing to keep up. After they were in Stumpf's office, he closed the door and with a trembling voice said, “What an idiot. I cannot believe I just witnessed a director of the FBI more worried about his public image than the safety of the public. Unbelievable.”
Seltzer leaned against the closed door, listening to his friend vent.
“How in the hell are we supposed to conduct an investigation when the director is blind to the facts? All he can see are the political consequences. Trust me, this incident will blow up in his face, and the rest of us will have to clean up the mess.”
After a few seconds of silence, Seltzer said, “Thanks for keeping me quiet. I was about to say something unproductive.”
Stumpf nodded, “You were going to say the same thing I wanted to. We'll need to keep Kruger's activities quiet. Is he making progress?”
“Yes, in fact he's the one that told Charlie Craft how to find the information on the cell phone and hard drive from Cooper's farm,” Seltzer said.
“Okay, keep Charlie’s involvement quiet, he's a good man. I don't want him in the crossfire when the bullets start flying. I'm surprised we keep any competent people with the likes of Wagner and Dollar in management.”
“When I spoke to Kruger yesterday, he wasn’t pleased with the situation. It's just my opinion, but I think he'll retire when this is over.”
“I wouldn't blame him. If things don't improve around here, I might follow him.”
The room was silent for a few moments, until finally Stumpf said, “Alan, you have to make sure Kruger has as much support as we can provide. I know he trusts you, let him know I’m trying to make changes around here.”
“Yes sir, I will.”
Seltzer headed back to his office hoping Kruger still trusted him.
***
Charlie Craft was discussing evidence found at the Cooper site with two of his team members when the phone rang. It was his boss, Pam.
“I need to take this, let’s take a break and be back in my office in five minutes.”
He answered the call as they walked out of his office.
“Charlie, I hate to tell you this, but the director wants the investigation into the Cooper incident stopped immediately. All the evidence needs to be sent to Quantico as soon as you can box it up. I'm sorry. You did excellent
work on this.”
Charlie was stunned. “How in the world can they justify shutting down the investigation. My team just spent two days gathering and cataloging evidence. There’s so much material it’s overwhelming.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Pam, I don’t understand. Most of the evidence hasn’t even been given a cursory look. What’s going on?”
Silence was his answer. Finally Pam said, “Politics, nothing more, nothing less. Mint Dollar declared it closed and the director is following his lead. He doesn't want to embarrass the agency with a retraction. Sorry, I wish I had a better answer.”
“This is wrong, Pam.”
“I know, Charlie. But my hands are tied.”
“No they’re not.”
“Charlie, be careful.”
Charlie was silent. He knew his position in the agency was not high enough to effectively fight the decision. He closed his eyes, sighed and said, “I'll have everything sent as soon as we can get it packed. Anything else I need to know?”
“Alan Seltzer said he would call you later today and explain. I’m not sure why he’s involved, but he asked me to tell you.”
Charlie understood immediately, but said, “I have no idea. Guess I'll find out when he calls.”
“Thank you for your cooperation, Charlie. Let's put this behind us and get back to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After the call ended, he sat back in his chair. Seltzer would be honest with him, or at least Charlie hoped he would be. He got up and went into the lab to tell his team the bad news.
The call came two hours later.
“Lab, Charlie Craft.”
“Charlie, Alan Seltzer. How are you today?”
“I've been better. I’d like to understand why my investigation of the Cooper property was shut down.”
“Good question. Wish I had a good answer, but I don't. The fact is the director doesn't want the agency embarrassed by retracting a statement made by Agent Dollar. Regardless of the accuracy of the statement.”
“Sir, I respectfully disagree with this decision. There is ample evidence Cooper did not act alone.”
“A mutual friend of ours agrees with you. In fact, he is conducting a separate and unofficial investigation into this matter.”
Charlie now understood the purpose for the call. “Good.”
“Do you have any vacation time left, Charlie?”
“Not really. I had to use all of it when my father passed away.”
“I'm sorry to hear of your loss. My condolences. Perhaps a personal leave of absence to attend a forensics conference would be in order?”
Curious about where this was going, Charlie said, “I could use a refresh. Do you know of any conferences currently accepting applications?”
“Actually I do. There’s one at Missouri State University in Springfield, Missouri, and it starts this Wednesday. Could you leave early in the morning?”
Charlie finally got it. JR was in Springfield. He frowned. How many people knew about JR? He'd have to ask Kruger later. The cover about the conference would hold. He'd learn more in one day working with JR than he would during several conferences. He finally said, “Will you handle my registration?”
“I would be more than happy to take care of it. In fact I’ll have Deputy Director Stumpf clear it with your boss and make sure all of your expenses are reimbursed.”
Smiling, Charlie said, “Guess I'll pack tonight and leave in the morning. I'll book my flight as soon as we're off the phone.”
“Excellent, I’m sure our friend will be pleased to hear you're going to attend.”
After booking his flight, he decided to call it a day and left the office. He was almost to his apartment when he received a call on his cell phone. The caller ID read “Unknown.” Puzzled, he answered the call.
“Charlie, it’s JR. When do you arrive tomorrow?”
“Around noon.”
“After the plane lands, retrieve your bag, then stand outside the terminal on the west side. I’ll pick you up. What's the flight number?”
Charlie told him. JR said, “Great, see you then.” The call ended abruptly. He smiled, only thirty seconds long. Same old JR.
***
Pappy's Bar and Grill was a small out-of-the-way place in a strip center located near a blue collar neighborhood in Arlington County. Because of its location, very few of Washington's elite patronized the establishment. This was one of the reasons Alan Seltzer relied on it for a quiet beer. Plus they made the best pulled pork sandwich in the district. He was sitting at the bar when Paul Stumpf pulled out the stool next to him and sat down.
“Everything is cleared for Charlie,” Stumpf said. “Did you make contact with the individual you mentioned?”
Seltzer nodded. “Yes, he was very glad to have the help. However, I haven't called Kruger yet. I’m not sure what to tell him.”
“Tell him the truth; he deserves it. We haven't been exactly truthful with him lately, have we?”
“No. It bothers me, too.”
“Alan, this could be the opportunity we need to make real changes around here. But we have to let Kruger do what he does best.”
“I know.” Seltzer took a deep breath. “What if he needs back up, what do we do then?”
“What is the name of the detective Kruger knows in Alexandria? Lark or Stark, something like that. He called for Kruger to come out to the Rousch murder.”
“Ryan Clark, good man.” Seltzer paused for a moment and nodded his head, “You know, that might work. Could we unofficially borrow him from the Alexandria Police Department?”
The deputy director stood. “That's what I had in mind. I’ll call the Chief of Police.”
He retrieved his cell phone from the inside pocket of his suit coat, scrolled through the list of contacts and pressed the send icon. He held the phone to his ear as he walked outside away from the din of the restaurant.
It was ten minutes before he returned. He sat down and took a sip of his beer. “Clark is available whenever and wherever we need him. The Chief and I go back a few years. I explained to him we needed someone to work with one of our agents on a special assignment. I also mentioned how the director swept the Rousch murder under the rug. He understood and agreed to the lend-lease program.” He smiled when he said the last part.
Seltzer took a sip of his beer and relaxed a little. “Good, I'll call Kruger tonight and let him know he has backup.”
“Alan, I want to make sure you understand the ramifications if our conspiracy becomes known.”
Nodding, Seltzer said, “I'm very much aware of what could happen. I'm starting to agree with Kruger. Retirement might look pretty good if things don't change around the agency.”
Chapter 28
Houston, TX
Monday evening
The short flight from Dallas to Houston landed a little after 7 p.m. Before leaving the airport, he called the Imam on a payphone.
“As-salamu alaykum.”
“Wa-alaykum salaam. I have good news for you, my brother.”
“Good, please tell me.”
“The help you requested is ready to assist you. When do you need them?”
Abbas was quiet for a few moments.
“Within the next two weeks. I will have to finalize the project and let you know. Their assistance will come at the end, when I need them the most.”
“Excellent, that will give us time to prepare them for their journey. Do you know where yet?”
“Yes, but I will let you know the location later.”
“Very well.”
Their conversation lasted a few more minutes, and after their goodbyes, Abbas walked to the rental car area.
The La Quinta Inn he chose was in La Porte, TX, north of the import warehouses situated around the Port of Houston. This would give him time to wait for the containers due to arrive at the Port the next day. On paper, Eduardo Acosta was identified as one of the principal owners of a Spanish olive oil compa
ny. A company who regularly imported oil grown and packed in Tunisia. He had no ownership at all, but it gave him a legitimate reason to be at the Port and to manage the transportation of the containers after clearing customs, a process he knew could last as long as ten days. Because the business did a lot of traffic through the warehouse, their wait was now down to just a few days.
After checking into his room, he left and walked over to a seafood restaurant next to the hotel. While sitting at the bar nursing a beer, Abbas thought about the restraints of his religion. He enjoyed the occasional beer and it helped him blend into the local culture. While he sat, a tall dark man sat down on the stool next to him and ordered a beer.
After the bartender sat the beer down and walked away, the newcomer said, “The ship arrived a day early. Your containers have already off-loaded and are in a holding facility.”
“Any issues?”
“No, not at this time and I don’t see any issues arising.”
Abbas nodded, stared ahead and sipped his beer. “Once they clear customs, your money will be wired to the account you requested.”
The newcomer stood, drained his beer in one long gulp, and walked out of the bar area of the restaurant. Neither man had looked at the other. Their conversation was short and quiet. No one heard it, or even thought twice about the encounter. After the man left, Abbas ordered a meal and spent the next hour sitting at the bar.
***
California
Wednesday evening
Funerals depressed him. But this one had been a fitting tribute to his mother-in-law. Roy Griffin respected her, and more importantly, he loved her like a mother, and she loved him like a son. Now his task was to help his wife get through the grief and settle the estate.
He wondered how much time he could spend in his home district without generating issues with his staff and the media. He couldn’t even decide if he wanted to run again. The atmosphere in Washington was toxic, unproductive and uncooperative. He spent more time being told by lobbyists how much money they would spend against him in the next election than he did trying to do his job.