by J. C. Fields
But that didn't make sense either. Billy was still following communication protocol. Had the FBI discovered how they communicate? Cooper’s computer and cell phone were destroyed in the blast and subsequent fire. Had the FBI caught Billy and offered him a deal? That seemed likely. Nothing else made sense; Billy had to be the leak. There were no other possibilities.
He glanced at his watch; the plane was forty minutes from landing in Minneapolis. If no one was waiting for him at the connecting flight gate, he'd be in Tulsa by 10 p.m. A surprise meeting with Acosta in the morning would probably tell him who the leak was. It would be time to clean up and start eliminating loose ends.
***
JR rarely paced, but he was pacing now. It was the first time Charlie had witnessed his new mentor agitated. After receiving the news of Ryan Clark being shot, JR started pacing. When he wasn't pacing, he was muttering to himself. Now he was pacing and muttering. Charlie didn't know if he should interrupt or just start doing what he knew to do.
His first task was starting a facial recognition routine at the airports surrounding San Mateo. Thirty minutes later, he had a hit from the TSI computer at San Francisco International. The file he opened showed Norman Ortega handing his ID to a TSI agent. He quickly accessed the airport’s computers, but failed to get another hit. At this point, there was no way to know which flight Ortega took until they knew the name he was flying under.
Charlie had an idea. He called the San Francisco Crime Lab, identified himself and asked to speak to the head of the department. They had met six months ago at a conference in Washington, D.C. She had sat next to him at a dinner function the last night of the conference. After a week of meetings and work groups, they had laughed and enjoyed each other’s company until the hotel staff kicked them out of the banquet room. He just hoped she remembered him. Finally after several minutes on hold he heard, “Hello, this is Michelle Young, may I help you?”
“Michelle, this is Charlie Craft, we met...”
“Charlie, how in the world are you? I heard you were promoted to head up the Montgomery Forensics team.”
Charlie was surprised. Not only did she remember him, but she’d been keeping up with his career. He’d have to ask her about it later, right now he needed information.
“Yes, I was. But currently I'm working with a special task force. We’re investigating a possible serial killer who may be involved in an incident out there in San Mateo.”
“Are you referring to the attempted assassination of Congressman Griffin?”
“Yes, have you received the weapon at your lab yet?”
“About two hours ago. What do you need to know?”
“Have you identified the person who registered the rifle?”
“It was purchased at Discount Sporting Goods and Gun Shop in Provo, Utah, last Saturday. The name given was Duane Horton, with an address in Springville, Utah. We were just informed several minutes ago that the address is a vacant field on the southern end of town.”
Charlie was silent. He had a name. “Michelle, can you hold the phone for a few minutes while I check something?”
Using one of JR’s new computer routines, he entered the name Michelle gave him and the airport. Fifteen seconds later, he had Duane Horton’s exact seat assignment on Delta flight 1246, destination Minneapolis. He got back on the phone and said, “Michelle, you're beautiful! Duane Horton is on a flight out of San Francisco International to Minneapolis-St. Paul.”
“Wow... How did you find it so fast?”
Realizing his mistake, Charlie quickly said, “A team member’s been working on a search routine for airline manifests. Seems to be working, doesn't it?”
“Sure does. I'd like to learn more about the program.” She hesitated for a moment and said, “Uhh... I know this sounds forward, Charlie, but do you ever get out to California?”
This was a first for Charlie. He couldn't remember the last time a woman had showed interest in him. Usually his clumsy efforts to make a date ended in total disaster. “Well, I had plans to tour the wine country in a few weeks,” he lied. “Why?”
“Really, were you coming with someone?”
“No, sounds weird, doesn't it?” he said, getting deeper into the lie.
“Oh no, not at all. I could show you around when you're out here. That is, if you don’t have other plans.”
“That would be wonderful, my own personal tour guide for the wine country. Sounds great.”
“Kind of what I thought. When are you planning on being here?”
Charlie panicked. Quickly pulling out his cell phone, he accessed its calendar. The end of June was about a month away. Realizing he had used all of his vacation time, he shrugged. He’d figure out the details later. This opportunity wasn’t going to slip away from him.
“My flight lands in San Francisco on the 22nd.”
“I'll give you my email address, and you can send me the flight number and arrival time. I'll pick you up.”
Listening to the conversation, JR shook his head and stared at Charlie. He couldn’t believe he was making a date while the world was crashing down around them. Finally he cleared his throat and said, “Charlie, we have a lot of work to do.”
Charlie looked over his shoulder at JR and said, “Michelle, I have to go. I'll email you the details; I’m looking forward to seeing you again. And thanks for the information.”
He ended the call and turned around to face JR.
“Duane Horton is the name Ortega is traveling under. He's currently on a flight from San Francisco to Minneapolis. His flight is scheduled to arrive,” he quickly looked at the screen and then the clock in the lower right corner of the computer, “in five minutes. He’s booked on a connecting flight to Tulsa, which leaves at six-twenty-one. He arrives in Tulsa around ten.”
JR cocked his head to the left. “How do you know all of this?”
Charlie summarized his steps. JR grinned and nodded several times.
“Tulsa’s the key,” he said. “All the players are converging on Tulsa.”
Charlie smiled.
“You're making progress, Charlie. Now get this information to Kruger and Seltzer. Maybe they’ll have time to intercept Ortega in Minneapolis. Oh, and Charlie, have a good time in wine country.”
***
Ortega waited until half the passengers were off before getting his carry-on bag and joining the crowd exiting the plane. He blended into the multitude of other passengers around the gate and searched for anyone overly interested in exiting passengers. Not noticing anyone, he turned right and found a shop selling Minneapolis-St. Paul memorabilia. Entering the shop, he watched the crowd surrounding the gate for a few minutes. When he did not see anything out of the ordinary, he turned and started looking for what he needed.
Five minutes later, wearing a Minneapolis Twins baseball cap, wraparound sunglasses and a black Nike windbreaker, he exited the shop and started walking toward the connecting gate for his next flight.
***
“He never boarded his flight to Tulsa. We had three teams at Minneapolis-St. Paul International within thirty minutes of his flight arriving from San Francisco. Nothing after that. His boarding pass to Tulsa was never used. We even managed to get a US Marshal on the flight, she saw nothing.”
Ryan Clark listened silently to Kruger’s briefing. At the conclusion, he said, “They spooked him.”
Kruger nodded, “We didn’t have time to set it up properly. I’m not surprised.”
“So now what?”
“I’m leaving for Washington later today. The Bureau is putting a top priority on this. We’ll have all kinds of assets in Tulsa by the end of the day. They’ve even put a plane at my disposal.”
Clark chuckled. “Wouldn’t you know it, I get shot and you get chauffeured around in a private jet.”
Kruger shrugged. “I was planning on leaving as soon as I knew you were okay. Your doctor said, under certain conditions, we could transfer you back to Baltimore in the morning. I've arranged
for a Bureau jet to meet those conditions and fly you first thing tomorrow. An ambulance will be waiting to transfer you to Walter Reed Hospital where you'll start your rehab. Plus, the agency is picking up the tab.”
Clark smiled, reached to shake Kruger’s hand and grimaced as a spasm of pain spread across his chest and back. “I've never been shot before. It kind of sucks.”
“I’ve never had a partner shot before, and it does suck.”
He was silent for a few seconds as he watched his friend’s pain subside.
“Ryan, I spoke to Seltzer this morning. The director retroactively made you a full-time agent yesterday. He wants you to officially join the agency after your recovery.”
“I'll have to think about it. Not sure I want to give up my safe and lucrative job at APD,” Clark said with a grin.
Kruger returned the grin. “It's there if you want it. Get your shoulder back to normal, then we’ll discuss it further.” He glanced at his watch and continued, “I have to go. My ride lands in an hour. I'll see you when you get to Walter Reed.”
***
The agency jet provided a quick and less stressful flight back to Washington, D.C. Seltzer picked him up at the airport and by 7 p.m. Eastern Time, they were pulling into the parking lot at FBI headquarters. As soon as they entered the building, an agent escorted them directly to the director’s office where Stumpf and a light dinner buffet were waiting.
Kruger fixed a small salad and picked at it. He remained quiet, waiting for someone else to start the conversation. Finally Director Stumpf said, “We’ve no idea where Ortega is. He’s vanished. I’m open for any ideas, gentlemen.”
“He's on his way to Tulsa,” said Kruger. “My guess is he’s driving. He probably ditched the Duane Horton ID after we spooked him in Minneapolis.”
“Tulsa seems a stretch to me. All you have are a few sketchy hints.”
Nodding, Kruger stirred the salad leaves for several seconds and put down his fork. He looked up, placed his elbows on the table, grasped his hands together and placed it against his chin. “What if they’re communicating somehow besides the emails? What if they’re using disposable cell phones? We can track them with the emails, but if cell phones are being used…”
Paul Stumpf nodded, “There is only one way to find out.” He picked up his cell phone and punched in a number.
Chapter 38
Fort Meade, MD
Friday morning
As a twenty-year veteran of the navy, Nick Carroll had spent the last ten of those years in signals intelligence or in the alphabet soup of government, SIGINT. Now he worked for the NSA. He made more money, got to sleep in his own bed at night and had a regular eight-to-five job. He also got to work on his fluency in Farsi and Urdu.
His newly poured cup of coffee was still steaming as he sat down in his cubicle. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his immediate supervisor approaching. Holly O’Brien walked up and smiled. She said, “I’ve got a wild goose chase for you this morning.”
Nick looked at her and sipped his coffee. “Yeah, what kind?”
“Right up your alley, Nick.”
He sipped his coffee again and held his hand out for the memo.
She shook her head. “It’s not on paper.”
Frowning, Nick pulled his hand back. “Not on paper?”
“Nope. This is a special favor from our director. He’s doing a favor for his counterpart over in the Hoover Building.”
Nick’s brow wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. “Holly, am I going to be comfortable with this request?”
“Probably not. But you don’t have a choice. You’re the victim of your own success.”
“What’s the request?”
“Nothing taxing, but we need you to write an algorithm to search domestic to foreign calls for a few new tag words. Run it on foreign to domestic calls also.”
“What are the key words?”
She shook her head, “They seem silly, but who knows.” She handed him a small five-by-seven sheet of paper from a yellow pad.
Nick glanced at it, read it twice and then looked up.
“Most of these are common key words,” he said. “Do you know how many hits we will get with ‘Tulsa,’ ‘container’ and ‘Port of Houston’?”
She shrugged. “Probably a lot. Just run the algorithm and we’ll see what the results are. Maybe it will make sense then.”
“How far back?”
“Let’s try six months. If you get nothing go back a year. See what you get. I was told to key in on those three words first.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know.”
By noon, Nick Carroll was seeing a pattern emerge, a troubling pattern. He stood and walked to Holly’s office. He tapped on the door as he walked in. “You got a second?”
She looked up and smiled. “No, but I’ll make time. What’d you find?”
“I went back a year. Not much until about five months ago.”
“Okay. What happened then?”
“Lots of hits for two weeks. Then nothing for a few weeks, then the activity started again. It stopped until a week ago and now…”
She frowned. “What’d you find, Nick?”
“Now, mind you, there was a lot of clutter I had to filter out, but the troubling calls are in Farsi.”
She was quiet as she waited for him to finish.
He swallowed and took a deep breath. “If I had to guess, there’s going to be a major terrorist attack on the Friday after Memorial Day.”
“Where?”
Shaking his head, “The target is never mentioned, but it will be in the center of the country.”
She glanced at a calendar. “That’s next Friday.”
He nodded. “Yeah, it is.”
She was quiet as she stared at the calendar. She stood, crossed her arms over her chest and walked closer to the calendar on the wall. “Keep searching. Expand if you have to, but find out where. I’ll call the director.”
***
The Hoover Building
Friday afternoon
“The computer in Baltimore hasn't been online for several days.” JR paused. “Ortega has been offline as well. If they figured out how we’re tracking them and switched to new computers…”
Kruger had excused himself from the meeting and had found an unoccupied office to check in with JR. “What, JR?”
“We’re screwed. I won’t be able to track them.”
Standing next to a window overlooking Pennsylvania Avenue and the National Archives, Kruger was silent as he as listened to JR.
“The computer in Dallas has been offline as well. What is it, Charlie?” There was a short pause, “Hold on, Sean, Charlie has something.”
The phone was silent for almost five minutes. Kruger was getting ready to end the call and redial when JR said, “Charlie just got a hit on the Baltimore computer. It accessed the internet, left a message and signed off. Charlie is accessing the email account. Do you want to wait or call back?”
“I'll call you back in fifteen minutes.” Kruger ended the call and sat down in the chair behind the desk. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, he suddenly felt weary. If he took the SAC position in Kansas City, there would have to be restrictions on his travel. He’d crisscrossed the country several times in the last two weeks. With a new marriage less than twenty-two days old, he’d been gone for half of it. Would anything really change? Probably not.
Other questions swirled in his mind. Could he still give one hundred percent? Did he even want to anymore? Would his marriage survive?
His answer to all three questions was, no. His first marriage had been based on sex more than love. As time passed, he remembered it more like a long bad date, than a marriage. After she left, he completely forgot about her and moved on with his life. Still, it had taken him years to realize how shallow their relationship had been.
But now, with Stephanie, it was totally different. Their relationship was based on friendship, trust, respect for e
ach other, and a shared longing for something other than their careers. He would not jeopardize their relationship; she was too important to him.
Suddenly realizing he was thinking of personal problems and not the investigation startled him. This was a first.
Kruger smiled in the dark room. His metamorphosis was complete. The devotion to the agency and the job had been a substitute for devoting himself to someone else. Someone like Stephanie who would, for lack of better words, be his partner in life.
The vibrating cell phone brought him back to reality. Glancing at the caller ID, he noticed almost half an hour had gone by. He answered it, “Kruger.”
“Thought you were calling back in fifteen minutes?”
“Sorry, got tied up. What'd you find?”
“It's the Baltimore computer. He’s asking Ortega if he should finish the contract on Griffin. Ortega’s computer hasn't accessed the internet at this point.”
“Where did he access the internet?”
“A Starbucks located on Cherry Hill Road in Baltimore.”
“Has that location been used before?”
There was silence on the phone, he heard the phone muffled and voices in the background. Finally, JR said, “Uh... Sorry about that. I didn't think of it, but yes, he's used it several times.”
Kruger thought for a second before saying, “Check his other access points and see if they triangulate.”
“Charlie's already working on it. Your question cleared some cobwebs in our brains. Hold on.” The phone was muffled again, but he heard, “I didn't think of that. Charlie, yeah it makes sense… Hey, Kruger, Charlie thinks the Baltimore contact lives around the Cherry Hill Road area, close to Patapsco Plaza. He’s never used an access point outside of that general area.”