by Misty Evans
“None? You’re kidding me.”
“Too easy to track.”
Gerard made a grumbling sound in the back of his throat. “You’re weird, man. How do you survive without a credit card?”
It wasn’t easy. He took the card Gerard handed him and slipped it between the door and the frame, right above the locking mechanism. Then he wiggled and pushed and wiggled some more, bending the card until he felt the lock slip backward. He grabbed the knob with his other hand, and voila. “We’re in.”
Brice handed the bent card back to its owner. “You cracked it,” Gerard groaned.
“Sorry. Hazard of the job.”
Carefully, the two of them made their way through the mountains of debris until they got to the bedroom and bathroom. “I’ll take the bathroom.” Brice said.
Gerard took the bedroom.
Brice was careful not to touch anything he didn’t need to. He wished he had gloves on. But the fact was, even up close, the bathroom was clean. Cleaner than his.
There was nothing in the medicine cabinet or vanity cabinet that seemed out of place. No hidden cubby holes in the walls or floors. Nothing taped underneath drawers.
He made his way to the bedroom. “Bathroom is clean.”
Gerard was in the closet, kneeling on the floor. “Bedroom isn’t.”
Brice closed the distance and looked over the cop’s shoulder. “Well, what do we have here?”
Just then, he heard the sound of a large truck pulling up out front. The reverb from the engine was so low, it rattled the windows. “Company,” he said, motioning for Gerard to stay quiet.
The truck shut off, footsteps pounded at a fast pace along the sidewalk, stopping at the front of the fence. “Mr. Kostas?” a man called. “It’s Denny. You home?”
Gerard frowned at Brice. Brice held up a hand, signaling him to stay immobile and quiet.
“Mr. Kostas? I need you to sign for this one!”
Silence stretched. Nothing happened. Through the window, Brice thought he heard the guy mumbling, then the footsteps retreated.
“Friend or foe?” Gerard whispered.
Brice put a finger to his lips, listening. Sure enough he heard the truck rumble to life. “UPS,” he said, once again peering over Gerard’s shoulder. “Kostas must have been getting a special delivery.”
Neat stacks of wrapped bills were tightly packed into a hollowed out section of flooring. “Pension fund?” Gerard asked. “Some people don’t trust banks.”
“He has a savings account,” Brice reminded him.
“Maybe he’s a gambler.”
“How much do you think is there?” Brice asked.
“Mmm...twenty stacks of hundred dollar bills. Twenty grand?”
“Call me a conspiracy nut, but this looks like drug money.”
“As in pharmaceutical drugs? From Kenton Labs? Was that what he had to sign for from UPS?”
Brice considered it, trying to make the threads surrounding Kenton Labs, their drug, and a cab driver fit together. “Possible. This money might be a payoff of some sort.”
“For driving the shooter onto the bridge?”
“In my mind, yes. Can we prove it? No.”
Gerard replaced the money and the floorboard and Brice moved out of the way so he could back out of the closet. “I’ll do some more digging. Maybe keep an eye on this place and get a feel for Kostas’s comings and goings. See if anyone suspicious shows up.”
They headed back out the way they had come. Being a good citizen, Brice locked the door behind him.
After a measly four-point-five hours of sleep, Hope painted on a perky smile and marched into her office, breezing by the receptionist with her usual peppy “Good morning!”.
It certainly wasn’t the receptionist’s fault Hope’s sleep patterns had been disrupted the last two nights and she wouldn’t inflict her crabbiness on her co-workers.
Never.
At her cubicle, she slipped off her blazer and hung it on the hook she’d installed on the wall. Rob’s head popped up from his side of the cube and she noted the shadows under his eyes. Everyone in the office was running on limited rest.
“Good morning!” she chirped. “How’s things?”
“Hey,” he said. “You’re perky.”
“You know me. Happy, happy, happy.” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Do we have a meeting at nine?”
“Yeah. Amy wants updates on everything. Guessing she’s gonna want to hear from you on this blogger guy.”
“Ha!”
Rob’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that about?”
Four and a half hours of sleep. That’s what. That darned Hawk had her all churned up. What with that sleeping on the couch thing. Any other man would have tried to worm his way into her bed. Not him. Mr. Honorable. He stayed on the couch. Like she’d told him to.
Shouldn’t that have been a plus? Yes. Completely. A true gentleman. And, yet…
She dropped into her chair, threw her head down on the desk. “I’m a mess.”
“Hold on. I’m coming over.”
As if it were a long way or maybe he’d vault over the top. At that Hope laughed. She raised her head just as Rob swung into her cube.
He sat on the edge of her desk and folded his arms. “What’s going on with you? You tore out of here yesterday saying you had a”—he made air quotes—“meeting and that was the last we saw of you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. This thing with the Chief Justice though is perplexing.”
“Tell me.”
She held her hands up. “Honestly, I don’t know where to begin. Other than I’m confused.”
“About?”
“The blogger.” She sat back, thought about Hawk on her sofa and shook her head. “He’s a good guy.”
“Hope, don’t start.”
She held up her hands. “I know. Same old Hope, thinking she’s in love when she’s not. It gets repetitive.”
Even Rob knew this about her. How pathetic. “At least,” she said, “this time I’m aware of it.”
“Good. Because as much as you want to see the bright side, find all warm fuzzies in people, this guy is trouble. He won’t just inconvenience your career, he’ll make sure you never work in this town again.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s a whistleblower. Those guys are walking targets.” Rob studied her for a few seconds, his eyes squinty. “Hold up here. Did you sleep with him?”
Hope flinched. Whether from her friend’s mind-reading abilities or the fact that he’d just spewed that statement where anyone, including their boss, could hear it, she wasn’t sure.
“Yikes, Rob. Maybe the whole floor didn’t hear you. And, for your information, no, I didn’t sleep with him.”
Rob, the human lie detector, continued to stare at her and finally nodded. “Okay. I believe you.”
Gee, thanks. “Your undeterred faith in me makes me feel so much better.”
He laughed. “I do have faith in you. Your judgment with men sucks though.”
Even her perky, perky, perky self was way too tired for this. And, he was right. No argument. Not a one. “Believe me, I know.”
At least she thought she knew. Hearing it from Rob brought a whole new level of awareness. As much as she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t allow her emotions to get in the way of her chasing this story, the honorable Hawk-not-slithering-into-her-bed had softened her. If only a little.
And that had to stop.
She sat up, waved Rob off of her desk. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being my friend. For not letting me ruin my future.”
“Denby!” Amy hollered from her office.
“Here we go,” Rob said. “Day three of Amy in psycho mode.” He jerked his head. “Get in there. Take the bullet for the rest of us.”
Hope grabbed her notepad and pen and hustled to Amy’s office. No doubt her boss wanted to know where she’d disappeared to the day before. Amy
had been in yet another meeting so Hope had left her a voicemail that she’d had to follow another lead on the Chief Justice story.
And now, Hope had no doubt, her boss wanted answers.
She did her quasi run-walk and swung into the office to find Amy at her desk. A neat stack of folders sat to her left, another to her right, that one not as orderly. In front of her were three newspapers and two cell phones. Another day in paradise. Amy scrolled through one of the phones and waved Hope forward with her free hand.
“Sit,” she said.
Doing as ordered, Hope took the seat right in front of her, set her pad and pen on her lap and shoved her shoulders back. Confidence, confidence, confidence.
She had this. No problem. Whatever Amy wanted to know, she’d tell her. Minus a few key details. Like the hacking into a federal employee’ email. Noooooo, not telling her that.
Or the interrogation of said federal employee. Noooooo, not telling her that either.
So, okay. What was left?
Not a lot.
Amy tossed her phone aside, sat back, folded her hands in front of her and fastened her eyes on Hope. “Start talking, Denby.”
Hmmm. Rather than risk speaking on the wrong subject, Hope decided clarification might be needed. “About?”
“About a certain law clerk who claims you, the Chief Justice’s security officer, and a blogger restrained and questioned him against his will.”
Woof! Way to come out of the gate hard. Hope opened her mouth but trapped air in her throat wouldn’t let the words out. That little turd Joel had filed a complaint? The balls! Considering Hawk suspected he was in bed with a damned lobbyist.
Relax. She could do this. She was an ace under pressure.
Before she managed a word, Amy shot forward, craning over her desk, her cheeks sucked in and her eyes on fire. “Jesus, Denby! For once you’re silent. That alone scares the hell out of me. What the fuck did you do?”
And, oh, wow. Amy dropping f-bombs. Nothing altogether new, but she’d definitely never dropped the f-word directly at Hope.
“I...uh…”
What? What could she possibly say? She took a breath, ran her bottom teeth over her lip and held up a hand. “Let me explain.”
“Ah, shit!”
“No. It’s not bad.” Ach. Not bad? It was totally bad. “You know I’ve been working this tip about the Chief Justice’s death. I spoke to Joel, his law clerk, the other night. That conversation got me thinking about this Kenton Labs thing.”
Patience obviously waning, Amy rolled her hand.
“Right. I’ll get to the point.”
Which was what? That they hacked his emails. Bad. Or that they’d interrogated said clerk. Even worse. She cleared her throat and sat a little taller. “Anyway, while doing research we came across some additional information we felt we needed to discuss with Joel.”
“How did the Chief’s security detail get involved?” Amy glanced at a note on her desk. “Anthony Gerard?”
“Yes. He was the one on the bridge with the Chief Justice. We called him.”
“You and the blogger?”
“Yes. We called him to ask some questions. Since he spent so much time with the Chief, he had the most interaction with Joel and we thought Joel might be more chatty with him.”
Amy closed her eyes, shook her head and blew out a breath before opening her eyes again. “At what point did you decide the prudent thing was to force this kid into a car and ambush him?”
Now that was a little over-the-top. “I wouldn’t say we ambushed him.”
“But you did get him into that car between a Supreme Court Policeman, one I’ve been told resembles a gladiator, and a former ATF agent. Any reasonable person would find that unsettling. On top of that, he requested to leave and wasn’t permitted to.”
When put that way, it did sort of sound like an ambush. “Uh...”
Amy held up one long finger. “Be very careful here, Denby.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now tell me what was discussed in that vehicle.”
Here’s where it got dicey. The entire conversation stemmed from the email. An email illegally obtained. By two Supreme Court employees and a blogger. Damned bloggers! Admitting it would not only take her down, she’d take Tony with her. And Hawk. Even if he wasn’t a Court employee, he could probably still go to jail. She’d have to research the penalties on hacking.
That thought produced a slightly hysterical giggle, but they both knew there was nothing even remotely funny. “Amy, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”
Her boss cocked her head. “You can’t...what?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t give a shit that you’re sorry, Denby. I’ve got this law clerk making all kinds of noise. Give me something, anything, to defend you with.”
The emails would do it. All she’d have to do is say they’d uncovered evidence that Joel was accepting gifts from D.C.’s top lobbyist—a lobbyist who, by the way, had a client with a major case about to be ruled on—and she could spin this whole thing. Take the heat off of her and Hawk and Tony and put it square on Joel.
But she was no lawyer and didn’t have a clue about the ramifications of hacking into someone’s work email. Particularly a government email account.
“I want to, Amy. Believe me. I’m not sure I can though. It wouldn’t be—” What? In her best legal interest? “I don’t think I should say anything more until I speak to a lawyer.”
“Mother of God. Denby, what the hell have you done?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. It could be no big deal.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Correct.”
Amy sat back again, dug the three middle fingers of her right hand into her forehead and muttered something about boxes. Boxes? Whatever.
A long minute passed and Hope sat silently, her stomach flip-flopping, her skin on fire while she waited for her boss to speak.
Finally, Amy dropped her hand, grabbed the edge of her desk and scooted forward. She let go, loosely clasped her hands. “Well, then, Denby, here’s what I need to do. Until you tell me what the hell you’re into, I’m putting you on suspension.”
“Amy!”
“Don’t say anything, Denby. Not one word. Whatever this cluster is, you’ve had a hand in it. Frankly, you’re lucky I don’t fire you after that stunt with the Chief’s clerk. The entire thing is under investigation. So, if you can’t help yourself here, neither can I. Now go home, Denby. And stay the hell away from that law clerk.”
The Bat Cave, an old, abandoned army base, was a dreary site. The main building, probably thirty thousand square feet with a couple of stories, all covered in brick. A few of the windows were smashed and the drive in front was littered with weeds and gravel.
A handful of squat barracks and equipment sheds dotted the landscape behind it. Left to its own devices, nature was encroaching through the fences. In the distance, Brice heard gunfire. No doubt Caroline was keeping her sharpshooter skills up to snuff.
No fancy headquarters for the Justice Team, but then they didn’t exist on paper.
Brice stopped at the gate, keeping his face turned away from the camera. He knew it was still live thanks to Teeg.
The hacker had called him shortly after he’d gotten to his house. Teeg had sounded agitated and insisted Brice come to the team’s headquarters so he could show him something even though Brice needed a shower and some breakfast.
He didn’t want to talk about it on the phone, nor would he send an email. “It may be nothing,” he had said, but Brice could tell by the way Teeg’s voice raised the hair on the back of his neck that the hacker had found something Brice wasn’t going to like. Teeg being so secretive compounded that feeling.
The speaker at the gate crackled to life and the sound of Mitch Monroe’s voice grated on his nerves. “Welcome to the jungle, Brice, ol’ buddy. Figured you’d end up here eventually.”
Brice stuck up his middle finger in respo
nse and a buzzer sounded, releasing the locked gate.
He drove through and parked near the east end where Teeg had instructed. As Brice swung out of the cab of the truck, the door opened and Mitch stood there grinning.
“I’m not joining the team,” Brice said, brushing past him.
Mitch wore a T-shirt that read, Sarcasm is my Superpower! He locked the door behind them. “Of course you’re not.”
Mitch led him down a long hallway with concrete walls, linoleum floors, and poor overhead lighting. They went through a set of double doors and ended up in a large, open conference room.
Grey stood in front of a smart board on wheels, studying a handful of photos and bulleted information. Teeg sat behind command central, three oversized computer screens in front of him, two keyboards on his desk, and an impressive array of speakers and other peripherals rounding things out.
Grey took one look at Brice and motioned toward a makeshift counter on the far wall. A brightly colored box of donuts sat next to a coffee pot. “Help yourself.”
Coffee. Nothing he wanted more at the moment. Too many long nights and no sleep. All he’d done at Hope’s house was think about her sleeping, warm and drowsy in her bed. His dick had wanted badly to go wake her up.
But he’d given her his word. And while he was determined to keep her safe from any outside forces who might not like her snooping around Turner’s death, he’d been more worried about keeping her safe from him.
“Caroline made the coffee, so you’re safe,” Mitch said. A banged up banquet table was piled with stacks of manila folders, sticky notes, and colored highlighters.
Next to all that crap was a model airplane about a foot long. Black with wings and a bloated looking cockpit it was the ugliest damned plane he’d ever seen. He angled his head. Wait. That wasn’t a model airplane.
“Holy shit,” Brice said already reaching for it. “You guys have a drone?”
“Test model,” Teeg said. “Mitch and I search for girls in bikinis with it. Don’t tell Caroline. It’s pretty slick, but we have some bugs to work out.”
“Yeah. Like the facial recognition,” Mitch said. “That’s a problem.”
“Hey,” Teeg shot. “Working on it.”