by James Raven
‘What about it?’
He told her about Travis. She reacted badly, appalled that his brother-in-law had violated her home. She wanted to call the police, but he managed to calm her down and talk her out of it.
‘I’ll get your diary back,’ he promised. ‘And I’ve already transferred the money to him so the immediate crisis is over.’
‘But this is wrong, Gideon. How dare that man break into my apartment?’
‘Call Butler and get him to sweep your apartment for bugs,’ he said, referring to the campaign’s head of security. ‘And don’t worry. I’ll keep Travis sweet until we no longer have to care about what he says.’
He sensed that Beth was keen to carry on the conversation. She was obviously upset and wanted him to comfort her. But he was anxious to get off the line so he could check out the news. He promised he would call later and told her he loved her.
As soon as he was off the phone he booted up his computer and surfed the online news sites. Beth had been right about the shootings being a mystery. The Feds were saying that the two agents had gone to the house in response to a call from Emily Jordan. As yet they didn’t know who had carried out the killings, but a man was seen by neighbours running away from the house.
Aaron Vance was quoted on some of the sites, but there was no explanation as to why he was in charge of the investigation. Crane sat back in his chair and his face folded into a frown. He decided it was time to find out why Vance had called the governor before Lee Jordan’s execution. Why were the Feds anxious to ensure that it went ahead without a delay? Did that have anything to do with last night’s shootings at the sister’s house?
Crane knew people in Washington who would try to find out if there was something going on that he ought to know about. But he didn’t see why he couldn’t get that information direct from the horse’s mouth. Now was probably not a good time to call Vance, though. He’d have been working through the night. So Crane decided to ring him later. In the meantime, he’d have to ponder the prospect of seeing Lee Jordan’s face on the TV and in the papers for weeks to come. And just when the bastard was about to become old news.
It was ironic – and so damned unfair.
34
KILLING A COP was not a job that Aaron Vance could delegate. Sure, the Bureau had access to men and women who carried out assassinations, but this was different. And besides, those so-called shooters couldn’t always be relied on to get it right – as was demonstrated outside the restaurant when one of them was meant to kill Jordan.
Vance went alone to Kate Pena’s house. He didn’t anticipate that it would take long. A bullet to the head from a silenced pistol would be swift and efficient. He’d leave the body and when it was found the cops would assume he was killed by an old enemy or perhaps the man who had abducted his kid.
Vance had killed before so he knew what to expect. He had claimed two lives in the line of duty and he kept telling himself that this was also in the line of duty. Frank Larson could never be trusted not to blab about what he’d discovered. And that made him a serious threat to the Bureau, as well as to a government that would have to deal with the fallout if what happened to Lee Jordan got out.
Knowledge was power and they couldn’t take the chance that Larson would use it at some point to advance his own personal agenda. It helped Vance that Larson was apparently a douche bag bastard and a bad cop.
Vance had accessed his file before leaving the office and discovered that he had form for using unwarranted force against suspects. He’d also been suspended on one occasion for attacking a colleague.
But what really got Vance fired up was that Larson had lied about Kate Pena being his girlfriend. They’d split up months ago because he’d beaten her up and she’d filed a complaint against him, claiming it wasn’t the first time he’d hit her.
But it was going to be the last time, Vance told himself. Larson wouldn’t be attacking any more defenceless women. He’d thrown his last punch and inflicted his last wound. Now it was his turn to suffer.
Vance wanted to hate Larson and he wanted to believe that the world would be a better place without him. It was always easier to kill someone when you thought they deserved to die.
Vance parked his car two blocks away from Kate Pena’s house. He put on dark fold-around shades and a plain baseball cap. He’d already removed his suit jacket and put on a navy blue windbreaker.
Before alighting the car he screwed the silencer onto the muzzle of the nine millimetre Glock that he’d kept in his office safe. He’d confiscated it a year ago from a Texas Syndicate foot soldier. It had never been fired and the serial number was filed down. Vance had always known it would come in useful one day.
It was a five minute walk to the house and Vance kept his head low and his hands in his pockets, where the right one maintained a firm grip on the Glock.
As he walked he tried to concentrate on his breathing. His body was fizzing with adrenaline. He found it hard to believe that this was really happening. Murders, whether justified or not, had never been a part of his job description as Special Agent in Charge. He was way out of his comfort zone and his stomach twisted with grim apprehension.
But this was the right thing to do. Of that he was convinced. No way was he prepared to risk any more fuck-ups. Not with so much at stake.
The street was empty. Most people were at work and the drizzle was keeping others inside. He kept his head down as he approached the house. Larson’s car was parked outside in the same position it was in when Vance had last seen it. He scurried up the pathway and was about to ring the bell when the door opened and Larson was standing there.
‘What’s with the disguise?’ the detective said, a note of concern in his voice. ‘You trying not to be noticed?’
Vance simply pushed past him into the hall.
‘Shut the door,’ Vance said. ‘We need to talk.’
Larson closed the door and followed Vance along the hall into the living room. Vance took off his shades and put them in his pocket.
‘We’ve got to be careful,’ he said. ‘What I’m about to tell you is heavy shit. Are you sure you haven’t told anyone what you already know?’
‘Of course I’m sure. I could barely believe it myself. Now I just want to know what’s going down. How come I was attacked by a guy who was supposedly executed by the state? I know you Bureau people like pulling crazy stunts that are not always legal, but this beats the shit out of anything I’ve ever heard.’
‘Is anyone else in the house?’ Vance asked.
Larson gave an impatient shake of his head. ‘I told you. I just dropped by to pick up my car.’
Vance could feel his heart stuttering against his ribs. He knew that if he didn’t act quickly Larson would get suspicious.
So he reached into his pocket, pulled out the Glock, and took aim with both hands.
Larson cocked his head to one side. ‘What the hell—’
But Vance didn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. He squeezed the trigger and put a bullet in the centre of the detective’s forehead.
35
WE TOOK THE freeway south from Austin to San Antonio, the quickest and most direct route. There was a chance the Explorer would be spotted if the cops were on the lookout for it, but there was a lot of holiday traffic so I figured it was a risk worth taking.
I was behind the wheel, and made sure I stayed just below the speed limit. Kate hadn’t said a word since leaving the motel. She knew I had to pull my thoughts together and try to make sense of what I’d learned. At the same time I was under pressure to come up with a plan of action – where to go and what to do next.
I wanted to avenge my sister’s death if I could, and to somehow ensure that Kate and her child had a future. I felt a heavy burden of responsibility for them, having dragged them into something sinister and perilous – a situation that I now knew involved the FBI, a notorious street gang, and a city law firm that for some reason liked to keep a low profile. I was desperate to
know what was going on. I’d been the subject of what must rank as one of the most elaborate cons ever – a faked execution under the watchful eyes of a bunch of witnesses.
And now I was being pursued by government agents who were prepared to commit murder in order to protect themselves and their ghastly secrets. On the face of it my situation seemed completely hopeless, as did my chances of taking care of Kate and her daughter. But I did have one thing going for me. That was the threat I posed to the Bureau and in turn the whole fucking establishment. It gave me a certain amount of leverage, an edge.
I just had to think of a way to use it.
The decision on what to do when we reached San Antonio was taken out of my hands by Kate when we were five miles from the city.
‘I want you to take me home,’ she said.
There was a lot of noise inside the Explorer. The windshield wipers were thudding back and forth and the baby was demanding attention in the back. Not crying exactly. More like a constant high-pitched whine that grated on the ears. So I got Kate to repeat what she’d said because I thought I’d misheard.
‘I said I want to go home.’
I shot her a glance. ‘Are you serious? How can you?’
She stared straight ahead, her eyes wide, jaw set hard.
‘I don’t mean to stay,’ she said. ‘I just need to collect some stuff for myself and the baby.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Well I do. It won’t take long.’
‘We don’t even know if your place is empty,’ I said. ‘Frank Larson might still be there cuffed to the radiator.’
‘But he’s had all night to wake up and call for help. Unless you took his cell from him.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘There you go then.’
‘Do you have a phone in the house?’ I asked. ‘A landline?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then call it and see if anyone picks up.’
She rummaged in her bag for her cell and switched it on. It pinged with several messages.
‘Two are from Frank,’ she said, as she read through them. ‘Both were sent late last night. In the first he’s asking me where I am and if the baby and me are OK. In the second he says he’s at the hospital. That means he probably won’t be at the house.’
‘I’m still not convinced it’s the right thing to do,’ I said.
‘Well I am,’ Kate said in a steely voice. ‘I never want to stay in that house again so I want to get my stuff. As much as I can carry at least. And that includes some jewellery that I can sell. I’m fast running out of cash and we’ll need it if we’re going to stay in hotels.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s far too risky.’
She fixed me with a solid stare. ‘Look, if we get there and it doesn’t look safe we’ll drive on by. OK?’
I sighed heavily, like a ball deflating. ‘Fair enough. Just tell me how to get there.’
36
VANCE WAS BACK in his office thirty-five minutes after committing murder. He was still telling himself that he’d done it in the line of duty and in the public interest. And he repeated over and over in his head the mantra that had been drummed into him during his training.
Sometimes an agent will have to do things he or she doesn’t want to do to serve the greater good.
Vance was a Bureau man through and through. He had devoted his life to it and it had cost him his marriage. He believed passionately in what it stood for and could never imagine working for any other organization.
But there were a lot of things he didn’t question that were at odds with the FBI’s core values – values that included uncompromising institutional integrity and rigorous obedience to the American Constitution. Dubious practices were too often tolerated within the Bureau and there were wrongs he did not try to put right, even though they sometimes caused him to have sleepless nights. But if it had been any other way he would not so easily have carried out the cold-blooded assassination of a serving police officer. That, surely, was a demonstration of his complete and utter loyalty to the cause.
‘It had to be done,’ Sam Boyd said, after Vance had briefed him on what had happened.
‘I know,’ Vance said.
‘And we had no choice but to act quickly.’
‘I know that too.’
Vance had put his suit jacket back on having dumped the windbreaker and baseball cap along with the gun. He was still shaking a little and there was an acidic taste in his mouth.
Boyd was pacing the office, wearing a worried expression, his apprehension growing. He told Vance there was still no sign of Lee Jordan or the woman and child. And he said that in Washington there was growing concern about what was happening.
‘The director has been on the phone twice already since I’ve been here,’ Boyd said. ‘He sounds like he’s fit to explode.’
That did not come as a surprise to Vance. The longer Jordan was free then the more likely it was that it would all come out. If Jordan spread the word about himself then they were in trouble. They couldn’t very well assassinate everyone who knew the truth. Their best hope was still to catch him and kill him quickly, before he was able to wreak total havoc. Easier said than done, of course, unless he made a mistake or they got lucky. But so far the luck had been with Jordan and the only mistake he’d made had been to go to his sister’s house.
The two men spent the next twenty minutes taking stock of the situation and liaising with some of the agents in the field. They’d issued a general description of Jordan – or rather the man seen running away from the house in Mountain City – and warned that he was armed and extremely dangerous. All police officers had been told that if they arrested him they were to inform the FBI without delay and he should be isolated immediately so he couldn’t talk to anyone. Both Vance and Boyd knew that such an instruction would probably prove ineffective, but they had to say something in the hope that they could limit any potential damage.
At 10 a.m. Liz poked her head in to tell Vance he had a call from Congressman Crane.
Vance frowned. ‘Shit. What’s that about?’
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Boyd said.
Vance put his phone on speaker and waited for the call to be put through. He had never met Crane, but of course he knew a lot about the guy who was running for the Republican ticket in the Presidential nomination race.
‘Is that Special Agent Vance?’ Crane said when he came on.
‘Yes it is, sir. What can I do for you?’
Crane cleared his throat. ‘I assume you know that my wife Kimberley was murdered by Lee Jordan.’
Vance felt his heart lurch. ‘Of course, sir. I’m well aware of that.’
‘Well there’s something I need to ask you, Agent Vance. I appreciate that you must be very busy right now with those shootings up near Austin, but it is important, at least to me.’
‘Go ahead, Mr Crane. What is it you want to know?’
‘I want to know why you called the governor on the day of the execution to urge him not to grant Jordan a stay,’ Crane said. ‘And I want to know if what happened last night with Jordan’s sister had anything to do with it.’
Vance thought quickly and said, ‘There’s no connection whatsoever, sir. We’re beginning to believe that the shootings were carried out by someone known to Miss Jordan. It possibly involved drugs.’
‘I see. Then what about your conversation with the governor? It seems odd to me that the FBI should apply pressure that way, although I have to say I’m glad you did. The last thing I wanted was for the bastard to be granted a stay of execution.’
Vance was a long time answering. Eventually, he said, ‘There’s a simple explanation, Mr Crane. I’ll tell you but I must ask you to treat it in confidence.’
‘Of course. That goes without saying.’
‘Well I was instructed by someone in Washington to help ensure the execution was not put off. A lot of people up there were concerned that if there was a delay it
would be a major distraction for you during your election campaign.’
Boyd gave Vance the thumbs up and Vance shrugged – it was the best he could come up with. But it obviously convinced the congressman.
‘I’m grateful to you for telling me, Agent Vance,’ Crane said. ‘I’m only sorry you can’t give me the name or names of whoever issued the instruction so that I can thank them personally.’
‘There’s no need, Mr Crane. Everyone is just glad it’s all over and Lee Jordan is history. Now you can focus on your campaign.’
‘And you can concentrate on finding out who shot your agents,’ Crane said. ‘Thank you again for your time.’
After hanging up, Vance felt his heart pounding in his throat.
‘You did well,’ Boyd said. ‘I don’t think I’d have been able to come up with such a good lie so quickly.’
Vance mustered a smile. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t pursue it. Could get awkward.’
At that moment Vance’s phone rang again. He picked it up. It was Daniels.
‘There’s been a development, boss,’ he said. ‘Kate Pena’s cellphone is back on. The guys are in the process of triangulating the signal. If it stays on we should have the location in a few minutes.’
‘Bingo,’ Vance said.
37
IT HAD STOPPED raining by the time we got to Kate’s house. The clouds were breaking up and the sun was starting to force its way through.
In the daylight her street looked pretty rundown. It was wet and empty and grey. Most of the houses were in need of a fresh coat of paint. The front yards were cluttered and untidy and there were small pot holes in the road.
‘That’s Frank’s car,’ Kate said.
It was a Lexus. I’d seen it when we hurried away from the house last evening. It was parked in exactly the same place at the curb, just to one side of the short driveway.
‘He probably hasn’t come back for it yet,’ I said. ‘But to be on the safe side call the landline again.’