by J. C. Fields
His wife was refusing to return with him. Her excuse was the amount of work needed to settle her mother’s estate and keep all of her charitable institutions functioning. This added more pressure for him to just finish out his term. But he had overwhelming support in his district, the poll numbers were good, and a legitimate challenger had yet to emerge, even though the election was just six months away. Anything could happen in that length of time, so he would wait a few weeks before making his decision.
The vibration of his cell phone broke his thoughts. Glancing at the caller ID, he sighed and accepted the call. “Hello.”
“Good evening, Congressman, it’s Bob. Is this a good time to talk?”
Bob Thomas was his Chief of Staff, the one person in Washington Griffin trusted and depended on. “Yes, Bob, it’s fine. Good to hear from you. What’s going on back there?”
“It's been quiet since you left. You have a lot of messages, but nothing that can't wait for your return. Uh, sir, do you have a return date we can announce on your website?”
Griffin hesitated, “No, not yet. I need to help my wife with the estate. My mother-in-law appointed me executor of her will, so I have a few more official duties I need to perform.”
“I see. Sir, could I at least get an approximate date? The emails requesting appointments are mounting up.”
“I'll be back after Memorial Day.”
“Yes, sir. You realize that’s more than two weeks away.”
“Yes. I am very much aware of how long it is, Bob.” Griffin rarely raised his voice with his support team, but Bob was pushing him tonight. “Just put out a press release stating I'm dealing with family matters and will return after Memorial Day.”
His assistant sounded distant when he said, “Yes, sir, I will update your website. Thank you, Congressman.”
The call ended and Griffin felt terrible. He had never kept anything from Bob. Perhaps in a few days he could give an exact date, but not right now.
Bob Thomas set the handset back in the desk phone’s cradle, sighed and accessed the congressman’s website as the administrator. He updated the link on the Home page which informed every one of the congressman’s availability. It simply stated he would return to Washington after Memorial Day. Satisfied, he closed the site and shut down his laptop.
Glancing at his watch, he smiled. There were some advantages in having the congressman out of town. His fiancée had found a trendy new restaurant and it was still early enough that they would have plenty of time to try it tonight. As he walked down the now dark and abandoned halls of the House of Representatives, he called her with the good news.
***
Kruger’s cell phone vibrated. He checked the caller ID and smiled, “I was planning to call you a little later.”
“Were you going to call and quit?” Seltzer asked with a note of seriousness.
Kruger chuckled and said, “No, not yet.”
“Good, I’ve got several things you need to know. First, the director shut Charlie's investigation down.”
“What?”
“He wants the Cooper case closed and wants nothing else associated with it.”
Kruger remained silent.
“I spoke to Joseph,” Seltzer continued.
“And?”
“He worked it out with JR, Charlie is flying to Springfield in the morning to help.”
“Is JR comfortable with this arrangement?”
“From what Joseph said, he jumped at the opportunity. He likes Charlie and plans to hire him one day. Anyway, you now have an underground forensics team working on the investigation. Charlie will be available to travel if needed. Secondly, we have Ryan Clark on loan from the Alexandria police department. He will be your partner and backup. Just tell us when and where you need him and he’ll be there.”
“I'm impressed, Alan.”
“Don't thank me yet. We're trying to give you as much support as possible. We have to be careful with the current political situation.”
Remaining silent for a few moments, Kruger thought about making a comment on the politics, but decided against it. “I'm heading to St. Louis tomorrow. It’s the last location we have for the guy organizing this group. Can Clark meet me there?”
“Are you going as an FBI agent?”
“Hell yes. Do you have a problem with that?”
Seltzer didn’t answer.
“Alan, if you want me to continue this investigation, I can’t do it with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Okay, but be careful. We can't afford to alert the director.”
“Alan, if I have to worry about the director every time I do something, I might as well just stay home.”
“Point made. I'll try not to micromanage. You're the guy in the field.”
“That’s right, I seem to be the only guy putting his neck on the line right now.”
“Calm down, Sean. Paul and I are walking a tightrope on this as well. We’re getting you resources and assistance. If the director finds out, all of us will have our necks stuck out. Besides, we believe your theory. As soon as you have positive proof, get it to us. Paul has a plan. He just needs you to prove there are others involved.”
Kruger took a deep breath. Seltzer was right, but it wasn’t time to tell him so.
“We’ll have Clark fly to St. Louis. Can you pick him up?”
“Yes, have him send me his itinerary as soon as possible.”
“Keep us posted, Sean. We need positive proof more than one individual is involved.”
“I'll talk to you when I know more tomorrow.” He ended the call.
Standing, he paced his small office area for a few seconds before deciding to make coffee. As he walked to the kitchen, a plan for St. Louis started to come together. If JR could determine the locations used by the Traveler, the name he was using for the suspect in St. Louis, he and Clark could stake out various locations and wait for the man to access the internet. It would be time consuming and they stood a good chance of missing the individual. But even with the small odds of matching someone with the pictures JR had retrieved from the Army’s computers, the effort might be worth their time.
After drafting an email to JR, he revised it several times until satisfied. As soon as it was sent, he glanced at the time on his computer. It was after 6 p.m. and Stephanie wasn’t home from the office. When she did work late, she normally called. Mildly concerned, he called her. The call went straight to voicemail.
Thirty minutes later, she walked into the condo and went straight to their bedroom without saying a word. Kruger was sitting at his desk when he heard her come in. He walked out of the office and to their bedroom, where she was standing in front of the closet and taking out clothes. An open suitcase was on the bed. He said, “I heard you come in.”
She turned, looked at him, but didn’t say a word. She went back to getting clothes out before saying, “I have to drive to Arkansas tonight.”
“Why?”
“I got a call from Linda, our District Manager in Bentonville, at five. Apparently Walmart is demanding a top-to-top meeting with our senior management at eight tomorrow morning. Neil is still in the hospital and since Frank…” She hesitated for a brief second, her voice shaky, “I’m it. I'm leaving as soon as I get packed. Not sure what this is about and neither does Linda. But with this short of notice, it's probably not good news.”
“Do you have a hotel room?”
She shook her head.
“I can make the reservation for you. I’m platinum with Marriot, they have to give me a room. Even this late.” He smiled as he said it.
She stopped, turned to him, and her frown melted. She chuckled and walked to him. They hugged and he kissed the top of her head.
“I have to go to St. Louis in the morning,” Kruger said. “Not sure how long I’ll be gone at this point.”
Looking up at him, she sighed. “I thought when we got married, this hectic pace would stop. It isn’t, is it?”
“Nope.”
&n
bsp; “What are we going to do?
“We… No, that’s not correct, I need to make some changes.” He suddenly realized his mistake of not walking away from the case as soon as the director shut it down. “This is my last case, Stef, I'm done.”
Silence was his answer. Finally she said, “I heard from the adoption agency today. They think they may have found an expectant mother for us. They want us to come in on Friday. Can you be here?”
“I’ll make sure I am.”
Chapter 29
St. Louis, MO
Thursday
Kruger’s drive to St. Louis started early. With Stephanie out of town, he’d slept poorly and was on the road by 4:30 a.m. Clark’s plane arrived at Lambert International Airport a little after 9 a.m. and by 10:30, their surveillance had started.
Centering their search on the busy Westport Plaza area of St. Louis, they were watching two coffee shops. Both identified by JR as frequent Wi-Fi access points for the Traveler. Clark’s location was a Starbucks and Kruger’s a St. Louis Bread Company location several blocks away. Clark sat at a table by the main entrance, which permitted an unobstructed view of the remaining tables. Kruger had chosen a similar spot at his location.
Paul Stumpf had arranged for Clark to be sworn in as a US Marshall on Tuesday. This provided jurisdiction in St. Louis, should they need to arrest the Traveler. Plus it permitted Clark to carry his service weapon on an airline flight.
“Exactly who are we looking for?” said Clark during the drive from the airport.
“We don’t know exactly,” said Kruger, “This may be a fool’s errand, but it’s a starting point. We gave him a code name, Traveler. The evidence we have so far points to him as the leader of a group responsible for the Washington and Kansas City murders. If he isn't, he might lead us to the individual who is responsible. I think it's important we find him.”
Clark nodded. “Makes sense. Tell me about the picture files you sent. Are they all suspects?”
Kruger shook his head. “No, they're individuals Thomas Cooper served with while in the military. We eliminated the ones currently overseas or ones we determined weren’t involved. Which left ten men, and we suspect the Traveler is one of those ten.”
Clark was silent for a minute. “I brought the communication gear you requested, it's in my backpack. Cool stuff, tiny ear buds, tiny mikes and the wireless receivers can be hidden anywhere. Not items you’d find at Best Buy, are they?”
Kruger chuckled, “Nope, I don't suppose they are. Hopefully we can use the gear to communicate discretely.”
“Alan Seltzer mentioned we had help. Who is it?”
“A very bright and talented forensic technician from the Bureau is assisting an old friend of mine. The friend is very handy with a computer.”
“Seltzer warned me about asking too many questions concerning your friend.”
“You can ask,” Kruger grinned, “I just won't answer.”
“Okay, I get it. I won’t ask.”
Kruger glanced over at his friend. Clark was concentrating on the road more intently than a driver. His jaw muscles clenched and his brow furrowed. Kruger said, “Don’t be nervous, Ryan.”
Clark shook his head. “I’m not. I just don’t want to screw up.”
“You won’t.”
Thinking back on the first time he’d met Ryan Clark, Kruger remembered a young detective with drive and determination. The Beltway Sniper was terrorizing the Washington, D.C., area during the fall of 2002. Clark had just been promoted to detective, and Kruger was one of several FBI profilers working the case. Clark was married, but the relationship was stressed due to the hours he spent away from home.
One evening, while they were on a dinner break together, Clark said, “How do you deal with being away from your wife?”
“I’m not married. Divorced, actually.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It happened a long time ago.”
Clark was quiet. They both ate in silence for several minutes. Finally Kruger said, “It hurts at first. It makes you feel like a failure. But once a little time goes by, you realize it wasn’t completely your fault. There was another person involved. They also had some responsibility in the marriage collapsing.”
Clark nodded. “I just can’t put my finger on when things started going downhill.”
“Don’t try to figure it out, it will drive you nuts. It happens. I saw the warning signs in my marriage didn’t acknowledge them until it was over. While I was married, I blissfully ignored them.”
“I’m wondering if I even want to save the marriage.”
Taking a sip of coffee, Kruger smiled grimly. “You probably don’t. Motivations are a tricky part of the human psyche. Our true motivations are sometimes masked by contrary behavior.”
Clark looked at Kruger with a frown. “How so?”
Shrugging, Kruger took another sip of his coffee. “Various ways. What have you done to save the marriage?”
“Counseling.”
Kruger nodded. “But you haven’t stopped working long hours.”
Clark stared at him for a long time. “You know how the job works.”
Remaining quiet, Kruger sat and looked at his new friend. Clark’s shoulders slumped and he looked down at the table. His only response was to shake his head.
“Ryan, it takes two people working together to keep a marriage alive. If you’re not willing to put the effort in, let it go.”
A decade later, Clark was still single and sitting in the passenger seat of Kruger’s Mustang. He said, “What’s our first step, Sean?”
“After we get in position, our friends will monitor the Traveler’s computer. If he accesses the internet, we’ll be notified. If one of us is in the correct location, you’ll receive a simple text message, ‘Your Location.’ If it’s where you are, use your radio and call me immediately. I’ll come to you. Same process if I’m in the right spot.”
“Okay, what if he accesses the internet from a completely different location?”
“Our friend will send the GPS location in a text message to my cell phone. We’ll move as quickly as possible.”
Clark was quiet. Finally he said, “Sean, do you honestly think this will work?”
Kruger shrugged. “If he's still in St. Louis, it might. He's been offline for two days, so he might have moved. But my friend doesn’t think so.”
Time pasted slowly. Kruger ordered a sandwich around noon to blend into the now crowded restaurant. By 2 p.m., he was thinking about suspending the operation when he got a text message giving a GPS location and the words, 2 blocks west. He activated his radio and said quietly, “Get to the car, they found him.”
Ten minutes later, they were ready to enter the Bean Counter Coffee Shop. It was large by coffee shop standards and fairly crowded for midafternoon. Kruger entered first and found an empty table in the middle of the room against a wall. With the ten pictures of suspects on his cell phone, he was just another patron staring at a phone. Clark entered several minutes later and found an empty table near the shop’s front entrance. He too consulted the pictures on his phone and surveyed the room.
Kruger received a text message, Accessing net now, so he nonchalantly scanned the room as if looking for someone to take his order. There were several men typing away on their computers, but only one of them matched a picture on his cell phone.
The picture identified the man on the computer as Norman Ortega. He was a former sergeant of Cooper’s. He was older than the picture, wore glasses, shaved head, and had grown a mustache and goatee. But the eyes were the same, cold and unemotional. It was him.
He replied to JR's text with Ortega's name and the words need more data Clark was copied on the text. Standing to go to the bar for coffee, he casually surveyed the room. After paying for the coffee, Clark headed back to his seat, looked at Kruger and slightly nodded. He had a visual on Ortega.
Now the tricky part. Kruger sent Clark a text message: Going to car will wait for T
to exit. You follow. I’ll back up. If Ortega became suspicious, Kruger was sure the man would disappear.
While sitting in the car waiting, Kruger called JR. Surprisingly, he answered, “Yeah?”
Kruger said, “Get me all you can on Ortega.”
“We’re on it. Traveler made contact with the computer in the Baltimore area. Their target is out of town until June. They’re now trading messages about contingency plans.”
“Interesting. Was the target identified?”
“Not yet.”
“As soon as you can, check to see if he’s in a hotel around here under his real name.”
The call ended just as Ortega exited the coffee shop. The man walked toward the parking lot, paused, lit a cigarette, looked around, and then headed toward an area packed with cars. Clark appeared at the door of the shop, trying to keep his eye on Ortega. Kruger couldn’t tell if Clark had a visual on the suspect, so he opened the car door and stood. Quickly scanning the parking lot, he saw no one. The man had disappeared.
***
At first he didn't think there was a problem, but Norman Ortega watched as a man entered the Starbucks around 10:30 a.m. There was nothing suspicious about the guy, other than that neon sign above his head flashing COP. Ortega shut his computer off and studied the new arrival. The man was about five-feet-ten, clean shaven, with a slender build and short brown hair. Not military short, but close. He wore Nike running shoes, blue jeans, a light blue polo shirt, and a black Nike windbreaker. A slight bulge in the windbreaker on his right hip gave him away—a holstered weapon.
He watched as the cop ordered a coffee from one of the baristas. So far it was innocent, just an off-duty cop getting a coffee. After sitting down at a table, the guy pulled a smart phone out, glanced at the screen, and then surveyed the room. When the cop did this for the third time, Ortega had seen enough. He packed his computer into his backpack and looked for a way to leave without getting too close to the man. An opportunity presented itself as a large group finished their meeting and started to leave. He joined the crowd, kept his head down and managed to exit the building without drawing any attention. Returning to his car, he drove to another coffee shop he liked. No point in taking any chances. He doubted it was anything other than an off duty cop getting a coffee. But why be careless.