by Al Boudreau
“A few miles past the Tobin Bridge tollbooth. I had to go to Chelsea to pick up some electronic circuit board for my friend at MIT.”
“Okay. And who pulled you over?”
“I’m not sure, but there are two cruisers and an SUV. All three are white. And they all have a big blue stripe running down the back door and have police markings on them. But they also say Home ...”
“Homeland Security.”
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Lucky guess. I’m just outside of Boston right now. In fact, I’m only about six miles away from you. Stay right ...”
“Carter, the officer who had my license just tossed it back in my lap. And … and they’re all taking off with their lights flashing.”
It took me a few seconds to realize what had just taken place. “Brian, you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got to go. See you at home later on.” I immediately attacked the phone’s plastic backing while doing my best to negotiate Boston’s rush-hour madness. I managed to get the cover removed, gaining me critical access to the cell’s battery. I pried the thin, rectangular power source out and tossed the components onto the passenger seat as if they were on fire.
Then I hit the gas and drove like a bat out of hell.
I had yet to figure out who Peg Franklin was, but I knew this woman wasn’t screwing around. “Five minutes after this little exercise of yours has ended, my fun will begin. Then we’ll see who has the last laugh. That goes for you, too, Mr. Peterson.”
If my read was correct, Franklin must have sprung into action and saw to it that Homeland Security marked me as a high-priority target. I thought about the list of technological means Homeland had at its disposal to surveil an individual, as revealed by O’Hey, and all at once Brian’s encounter made perfect sense.
He’d been pulled over shortly after passing through a toll booth while driving my car. Franklin likely requested that Homeland red-flag the Buick’s license plate number in the system and when Brian passed through the toll they got a hit on the registration. They thought they had me when they pulled my car over, but when they found it was Brian they tricked the kid into calling me so they could track my cell phone.
Spooky.
Once again my head was spinning like a top as I tried to make sense of what we’d stumbled into when we took on the Webber embezzlement case.
It was too much to comprehend here and now. It was time to focus on the task at hand, as I’d inadvertently gotten myself in over my head this morning. My day began less than three hours ago with the simple intent of conducting a few interviews, but somehow morphed into a game of cat and mouse, me being the mouse, and the cat being the full force and authority of the Federal Government of the United States of America.
Chapter 15
I pulled into the Bridgeport police station parking lot with the knowledge I’d be secure, and among friends, while I tried to work out this ever-deepening quagmire Sarah’s abduction had become. While traveling home I’d placed a quick call using my burner phone to Detective James, who had confirmed he’d be at the station when I arrived.
I gathered up the pieces of my personal cell phone and slid them in my pocket, pulled out my notebook, and headed inside, anxious to dredge up all I could on Peg Franklin. My gut told me she was somehow connected to Homeland Security, but I hadn’t ruled out the possibility she was some bigwig with Stratashield.
I saw James stepping out of Chief Goodhue’s office as I arrived. “Good timing, Carter,” he said. “We just got word that Troy PD did indeed find evidence of Rose Stanton’s presence inside Roland Creitz’s Mercedes. C’mon, let’s use the conference room.”
“You buying it?” I asked James.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It just seems too convenient, that’s all. Creitz’s car delivering Mike Webber to the nurse’s house. Creitz’s car with Stanton’s DNA in it. And yet no one has seen Creitz. Not one eyewitness can place him at either crime scene.”
“All the evidence is circumstantial, I’ll give you that, but until we can sit this guy down and clear him with some airtight alibis he’s going to remain our number-one suspect. And Troy PD seems pretty convinced he’s our guy.”
I shrugged off the fact James didn’t share in my skepticism. “Moving right along,” I said, “can you get one of your techs to see what they can find on a Peg Franklin? She lives in Sturbridge, Mass.”
“Sure. Who is she?”
“You mind getting someone on it right now? This is important.”
“All right, all right,” James replied and left the room.
“Where are you, Sarah?” I muttered. Her disappearance was taking a toll on every aspect of my being. I felt as though I’d been beaten senseless by an angry mob. I’d gotten less than four hours sleep in the past 36 hours and hadn’t slept in a bed since Sarah had been shot more than a week prior.
James reappeared and pulled out a chair. “Okay, we’ll have a file on Peg Franklin in 15 minutes.”
“We need to talk about my trip to Boston and Stratashield.”
“What did you find out?”
“Not a damn thing. That’s the problem.”
James looked perplexed. “So you weren’t able to touch base with your old partner on the force?”
“Eventually. I hit Stratashield first to avoid traffic snarls. Approached the CFO – Rita Bennett’s boss – Ronald McEntee. He blew me off then ran for cover inside his office and had his assistant sic Homeland’s Federal Protective Service officers on me before I could get out of the building.”
“What did you do to McEntee, assault him?”
“That’s just it. I didn’t do anything to provoke him, yet two FPS officers took me down, cuffed me, and hauled me up to the top floor of Causeway Place. Then McEntee comes marching in with a woman named Peg Franklin. Lucky for me O’Hey showed up and bailed me out.”
“Wait, how’d he know you were in trouble? You called him?”
I shook my head. “James, what do you know about fusion centers?”
James grinned. “Oh boy.” He hesitated. “As far as you’re concerned, nothing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What it means is fusion centers are no big secret, but the feds prefer we avoid discussing their existence in order to maximize our technological advantage.”
“Sort of a ‘what the public doesn’t know will hurt them’ approach?”
James laughed. “Yeah, something like that. There’s a lot of resentment that local and state cops feel towards the Homeland boys. It’s pretty widely understood that the Patriot Act violates the first, fourth, and tenth amendments to the Constitution. Even the FPS cops realize it.”
“Huh. Guess that explains why they didn’t stand their ground against O’Hey and Boston’s finest,” I said.
James smiled. “So let me guess. An old cop buddy of yours was working a shift at Commonwealth Fusion Center and saw you were in trouble?”
“Well done, Detective.”
“That must have pissed off the feds something wicked.”
“Let me tell you, those FPS officers folded like a roadmap. Then, get this. Peg Franklin fired two of them right on the spot.”
“Whoa, hold on, Carter. No way would she have the authority to do that. I don’t care who she is.”
“If you’d seen the look on their faces you’d be singing a different song. I’m telling you, these guys were scared. No doubt in my mind they believed her every word.”
“Okay, now you’ve piqued my curiosity.” James pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m beginning to understand why you were so hot to put something together on this woman.”
“There’s more. Ten minutes after I left Stratashield I got a call from Brian. He borrowed my car to go to Boston this morning. Homeland had him pulled over just past the Tobin Bridge tolls. Peg Franklin managed to get me red-flagged that quickly.”
“Wow.” James stood there r
ubbing his chin. “They must have nailed your Buick’s location with a plate reader when Brian passed through the tolls.”
“That’s what I figured. When they found out it wasn’t me inside the car they had Brian call my cell phone. As soon as the kid had me on the phone, all three units took off. Left him sitting there once they’d locked onto my cell signal. Needless to say I got the battery out of that phone in record time.”
I could tell James was trying desperately not to burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, Carter. This whole situation is so far beyond ridiculous it’s not funny, but….” He regained his composure. “In all seriousness, we need to get a handle on who this woman is, because that’s some impressive power she’s wielding there. Not many individuals could get that done.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Let’s go see if they got anything on her yet.”
I followed James out and took a detour toward the coffee machine, in desperate need of caffeine. Someone had started a fresh pot. A few more seconds and it would be full.
“How you holding up, Carter?” I turned to find Chief Goodhue standing over my shoulder, waiting to top off his massive coffee mug.
“Morning, Chief. I’m hanging in … barely.”
“We’ll find her, Carter.”
“Look, Chief, I’m really sorry about whatever heat you took for me from Homeland. I ...”
“I know what it’s like to be in your position. No apology needed. Homeland doesn’t concern me in the least. All in a day’s work.”
As the chief spoke, all I could think about was the possibility of three FPS units racing up I-95 and skidding into the parking lot just outside the chief’s office window. I decided to let this morning’s unsettling series of events go unmentioned for now. He’d find out soon enough.
I went back to the conference room to find James’s nose buried in his paperwork. He looked up as I sat down. “Cantor-Choy.”
“Peg Franklin?” I inquired.
“Yep. She’s the comptroller for the whole enchilada.”
I chugged down several swallows of coffee and let the revelation sink in. “So pardon my lack of knowledge of the whole corporate realm, but what, exactly, does a comptroller do? I’m assuming the job has to do with the financial side. Is she just a fancy accountant?”
James laughed. “Fancy doesn’t quite cover it, Carter. According to a resume we were able to locate, this woman is their chief audit executive. All the corporations under Cantor-Choy’s umbrella, including Stratashield, Cell Détente, Bio-File, and Hy-Tek Solutions, fall under her direct supervision. Financial reports, balance sheets, income statements, countersigning on expenses and commitments – all her domain. She’s responsible for monitoring internal controls and internal audits for every one of those businesses. She’s a senior-level executive with a nightmare scenario on her hands. No wonder she overreached when you hit up her CFO underling for information. Her workload is an avalanche right now after losing those three accountants. She’s got to be buried.”
“Good point,” I said. “I guess, compared to this woman, Ronald McEntee would be considered a corporate peon. Explains why he clammed up when she spoke. And Cantor-Choy’s focus is government contracts, right?”
“Correct. $13 billion worth if my memory serves me.” James studied the paperwork. “My mind has a hard time with numbers that big.”
“Yeah, and that figure was from a few years back. Could be double by now.”
James tossed the papers down on the table. “Do you remember the name of the woman you dealt with over at Hy-Tek Solutions when you and Sarah were working the Webber embezzlement case?”
“No. Sarah handled that one during the bulk of the investigation. And, unfortunately, some of the paperwork from that file has disappeared. At first I thought I’d lost it, but at this point I think it was stolen.”
“Hold tight. I’m going to see what we’ve got concerning that case.”
I thought back to my discussions with Sarah about the Webber case, and remembered her talking about Rachel Webber’s boss. But aside from the fact that Sarah mentioned she was pleasant, and very cooperative, nothing else came to mind.
I had a good idea where James was going with this. Our problems originated with Sarah’s involvement in Webber’s case and Hy-Tek Solutions, so maybe we needed to revisit the origins and see where they’d take us. I finished my coffee, wondering what was taking James so long.
I stood up to grab another cup of coffee when James stepped back into the room. “We don’t have that information, either. The chief said he was pretty sure several documents were missing from our files, too. What I find a bit disturbing is that Homeland showed up here while we were in Troy, wanting a look inside that same file. The chief said the agent took it down to the copy room to duplicate what we had. Chief didn’t bother to look inside when the agent handed it back to him.”
“Which agent?” I asked.
“Dominic Caldwell, the guy who denied you access to Webber down at MCI Framingham.”
“Detective, what the heck is going on?” I sat back down, buried my fingers in my hair, and rested my forehead on my palms. “Do we move forward with the assumption Caldwell removed documents from the file?”
“I think we have to,” James said. “A pattern is emerging with this guy. I’m thinking there’s a situation the government wants to keep on the down-low.”
“Any way we can take a ride over to Hy-Tek and pay their accounting department a surprise visit?”
“We can,” James replied. “What’s your plan?”
“I want to get a jump on talking to Webber’s boss before Peg Franklin gets to her.”
“If she hasn’t already. Let me grab my jacket and I’ll meet you out by my cruiser.”
I headed outside, feeling grateful James was so committed to working with me as I continued to search for Sarah. Having a detective watching my six made me feel as though I was back in the cop game, giving me the boost of confidence I needed right now. And the fact that we were about to travel in a police cruiser gave me an additional layer of protection. For all I knew the FPS was still trying to track me down, which was good enough reason for leaving Sarah’s car parked right where it was.
“Let’s hit the drive-thru,” James said. “We both could probably use another coffee.”
“Fine by me,” I said as I slid into the passenger seat. We headed down the road and I began thinking about Sarah’s voicemail again. “Do you remember what you said the first time I played Sarah’s voice message for you?”
“I said she sounded strong.”
“Right, strong and determined. Well, after getting back from Troy I listened to that message. A lot. And after a while it dawned on me. She had no panic in her voice. So I began messing with the audio using one of my computer programs.” I held up the flash drive and handed it to him. “This is an analysis of Sarah’s voice message. At the end of her message, where she gets cut off, I was able to isolate a man’s voice in the background. He said Enough. We’re good.”
“What do you think that means?” James asked.
“My gut’s telling me it was staged, probably to throw us off track. I have to believe that whoever took Sarah had no idea we’d hear that bit at the end. It took a while to clean it up to make that guy’s voice sound clear. When I first heard it I had no idea what he was saying.”
James nodded. “Now I understand why you changed your mind about digging up those cell tower records. This case is becoming a rotten onion. Layer upon layer, and they all stink.” James wheeled the cruiser up in front of the order speaker. “Black, right?”
“Yep.” I tossed a five onto James’s lap and within a minute we were back on the road, coffee in hand, and in another five we were pulling into a visitor’s parking spot at Hy-Tek Solutions.
As we climbed out I said, “I think you should take the lead on this. They’ll be more forthcoming with information if a police detective is asking the questions.”
“Yeah,
the badge scares ‘em every time.”
I scanned the front row of parking spots adjacent to the visitor section. These spaces were in the best location, each one designated to a particular individual by virtue of their position in the firm. I stopped and checked out the only empty spot, my curiosity aroused when I noticed the sign placard for that particular location was missing. The metal post was still standing, fairly rusted with the exception of the area where the placard bolted to the post. That area was shiny, telling me the placard had been removed quite recently.
James stopped when he saw me staring at the empty spot. “Looks like somebody just got canned.”
“You read my mind,” I said.
We stepped inside the visitor entrance and James made nice with the middle-aged receptionist as he flashed his credentials. “Hi there. Detective James, Bridgeport Police Department. I’m here with my associate. We’d like to speak to the individual who supervised a former accountant of yours, Rachel Webber.”
The woman’s expression changed from a pleasant smile to one of deep sadness. “Oh my goodness, we’re all in a state of shock around here. First, Rachel’s termination, then the poor woman’s death. It’s all so tragic.”
“I agree. We’re deeply sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” the woman said. It sounded as though the receptionist harbored no ill will toward Webber, which would likely prove beneficial in convincing her to help us out. “I’m afraid I have bad news for you. The woman you’re looking for, Shana Luke, decided to take early retirement. She’s no longer with the firm. It’s my understanding she and her family have moved.”
“Where? Do you happen to have that information?” I asked, a little afraid to hear the woman’s response.
“Well, I’m really not supposed to give out ...”
I saw James glance down at the nameplate just inside the woman’s reception window. “Ms. Slate, I understand how important it is to maintain the integrity of Hy-Tek’s policies, but this is official business. Speaking with Ms. Luke might make all the difference as to whether or not another individual is delivered from harm.”