"Long enough to leave the baby and her homemade birth certificate on the hospital doorstep."
"Homemade birth certificate?"
"That's what I meant by 'of sorts' when you asked if there was a birth certificate. It wasn't an official hospital record, but she tried to make it look like one in her young and naive way."
"What did the note say?"
"Why do you think there was a note?"
"If I was going to leave a baby on a doorstep, I'd try to give some reason, even if was a lie, something to assuage my own guilt, a reason I could live with telling. There'd most definitely be a note."
"It said that both parents were dead, that the baby had no other family."
"There were no other records?"
He looked at his partner and then back at CJ. "His adoptive parents were told that his parents were both dead. End of story."
"But that's not the end of the story, is it?" CJ said.
"Why do you say that?"
"How many people died during the Battle of the Bogside?"
"Numerous injuries, as I've already said. No deaths."
"So officials had reason to suspect that the parents being dead was a lie, but for whatever reasons, they didn't care. Maybe they just wanted to hand off another ward of the state to someone else to feed. A rich American family sounded perfect at the time."
The agent turned forward with no comment.
"I was told that the adoption was illegal, under the table were the words. Anything having to do with the circumstances around the birth or death of the parents seem to me to be rather suspect."
"Possible."
"Was there any effort on the part of hospital officials or police to locate the parents? They... he... she... someone left a note and a handmade birth certificate."
"There was a search and police investigation, but nothing turned up. As I already said, it was believed that the last name given to the baby was false. It'd be like naming a baby here Douglas Jones before dropping him off on a doorstep. Unless one got lucky with DNA, one would be hard-pressed to trace the parents, alive or dead."
"And of course, back then, there was no DNA technology," CJ said. "So... a baby was dropped off on a doorstep with the name of Douglas O'Reilly and then illegally adopted by a rich American family, the Rothbowers. As fascinating as I find all of this, I fail to see what's so important that the FBI should be getting involved in a baby drop and then an illegal adoption that took place 43 years ago in another country. Also, what does it have to do with Rothbower abandoning his family five years ago and then disappearing?"
"We believe that Rothbower learned who his parents actually were and went off on a quest to locate them."
"Them?"
"He believes they are both still alive."
"Ah," CJ said. He'd been leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He flopped back against the seat. "And the FBI is involved because they also believe the parents are still alive and living in the United States. Fugitives from the law would be my guess? Maybe what you said a few minutes back, that is that the activities of the Provisional IRA and the other one you mentioned are not relevant, was in fact a lie."
"That's not what I said."
"'But that's another story all together,' is actually what you said. You want these people and it has everything to do with the violence that went on in Ireland from 1969 until sometime in the late 90s when it ended."
"It came to a stop with a ceasefire in 1997," Coulter said, turning back to face CJ, "and then a signed-by-the-powers agreement on Good Friday in '98. In summary the agreement stated that the majority of Northern Ireland people wanted to remain part of the UK, but recognized that a substantial section of the people wanted a united Ireland. What it came down to was that if a majority of the people, at some later date, wanted a united Ireland, the two governments, British and Irish, would be obligated to make it happen."
"So it didn't end," CJ said.
"The bombing, fighting and killing ended, but the mission of the IRA and all the spinoffs did not. They have been working behind the scenes, both above ground and underground, to sway opinion. Recently, in the last few years, there has been an increased groundswell of rebirth."
"And violence?"
"Some, though not enough to make headline news like that in the 80s and 90s."
"And that's the reason you're looking for the parents. They're still alive and well and in the center of the groundswell, maybe the violent part."
The agent didn't say anything.
"They're operating out of Florida somewhere and Douglas is close to finding them," CJ said. "Is that it then?"
Coulter looked at his partner and then turned forward in his seat again. They were leaving land and crossing over Old Tampa Bay, the reverse route CJ had taken when he drove into St. Petersburg from the Tampa airport.
The remainder of the trip passed in silence, CJ curious as to where they were going. After a time they left the interstate, made a few turns and wound up cruising through a commercial park, a minute later coming to a stop at a gate. With a special handshake or wink or something that CJ didn't see, the gate opened and they passed through. As they left the car and proceeded inside, he wondered how his son, Special Agent Joshua Washburn, was doing and whether his office in Denver looked anything like this. Josh had invited him to come up for a visit and tour. CJ would have to take him up on that, another step in healing old wounds.
The two agents dropped him off in an office in front of a desk which, according to the name plaque, belonged to John Taffer. The initials ASAC were below the name, in a smaller font. He was asked if he wanted coffee, water or soda. A minute later he had a bottle of Mineral Springs and was told that Special Agent Taffer would be with him shortly. He looked at the plaque for a time, sipping on the water, trying to recall the rank structure of the FBI. The SAC he knew was Special Agent-in-Charge, therefore, the ASAC must be the Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge.
A few seconds later, a man several inches taller than CJ's 6'2" walked in, his hand immediately extended.
"Clinton Washburn," he said, swallowing CJ's hand. "John Taffer. Sorry to keep you waiting. Got a call from the wife as you were brought in. She had to let me know we've got a new grandson."
"Congratulations."
Taffer moved around to his desk and sat down. "That's number two for us. You have any grandkids, Clinton?"
"Not yet, and please call me CJ."
"CJ. You have two kids, though. Patricia and Special Agent Joshua Washburn."
CJ wasn't surprised by the fact that Agent Taffer already knew that. He'd probably been briefed about CJ's entire life, likely knew more than CJ knew himself. He certainly knew that CJ had no grandchildren. So why the let's bond and be friends ruse?
"Yep," CJ said. "Just the two. Can we get to the point? I was summoned from my hotel room because I'm searching for Douglas Rothbower. Why is he so important to the FBI?"
"Okay. To the point. If you were anyone else we'd have simply told you to drop your investigation and go home. However, your file has a couple of stars on it, making you a friend of the FBI."
"I have a file?"
"Of course. You have an interesting history."
CJ wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he went with, "How is it that my file has stars?"
"First, you're the father of one of our special agents. Family and all of that. Second, you served as a police officer, honorably. Third, you and your son were instrumental in solving one of the worst serial killer cases seen in Arizona's modern day history and you, personally, took the guy out. You have the respect of the bureau."
"I'm honored. So what does it all mean?"
"It means that we want to be a bit more open with you, as a courtesy you might say, to help you understand why we need you to back off."
"Your two agents filled me in about the IRA. I see nothing there that warrants my walking away."
"They didn't tell you everything and probably a lot more than they should have. Again,
respect and all that."
"Okay. What's the part that I don't know yet?"
Taffer formed a steeple with his fingers. "Douglas Rothbower is an informant."
"Informant?"
"Deep cover. If you by chance find him you could be risking his life, and yours for that matter, and jeopardize a very important operation."
"But he's not an agent," CJ said.
"No."
"I didn't think the FBI did deep cover with civilian informants."
"This is a special case. We are working closely with other agencies and foreign governments. Rothbower was a perfect fit and he was more than willing to do it."
"What exactly is he doing?"
"I can't really divulge anything further."
"I gather I've gotten close. Why else would you have intercepted me?"
"Close enough."
CJ considered what he had just been told and then said, "You might have a problem."
"How's that?"
"I got a little too close too easily for his being deep cover. "
"That is being taken care of."
"The cousins?"
Taffer just smiled and tilted his head.
"My client is not going to be happy," CJ said.
"I'm sure you can make her understand."
"Then you know who my client is."
"Certainly. My condolences to Ms. Onassis and her sister."
"I'll be sure to pass it along," CJ said, adding a tad of sarcasm to his voice. "Does Douglas know that his daughter is dead?"
"He's been out of the country, so I don't think so."
"Are you intending on telling him?"
"When the time is right. Things are coming to a head right now so passing that news to him could be detrimental, and it's not going to bring his daughter back."
No it won't, CJ thought, but if I were Douglas, I'd be pissed when I find out the FBI was withholding the death of my daughter.
CJ and Agent Taffer chatted for a few more minutes about CJ's son in Colorado, the FBI in general and a little about the serial killer case that made CJ so famous. And then the two agents returned him to his hotel.
"Go home," was the last thing Taffer said to him. At this point CJ wasn't making any commitments, though he had to admit that it seemed he had hit a federal brick wall. Was it worth trying to break it down?
He'd have to do more thinking on it.
Chapter 5
Hot, wet, tangled. CJ struggled from sleep, trying to push away the dream, or nightmare, whatever it was. As the fog cleared he kicked away the covers and lay listening for Stella's breathing, but heard nothing. Seconds ticked by as he recalled that he wasn't in Arizona, that he'd flown to Florida alone, that the unfamiliar shapes in the near total darkness belonged to his hotel room in St. Petersburg.
He looked at the time. 6 a.m. In Arizona it would be daylight at 6 a.m. He got up and pulled back the drapes; not even a hint of sunrise. His internal Arizona clock knew it was actually only 3 a.m. back in the desert. He should still be asleep. He pushed the drapes all the way open to allow city lights to enter, then lay back down on top of the spread and stared up at the ceiling.
He'd talked to Stella after Agent Blain dropped him back at the hotel, but didn't tell her anything about the FBI meeting. He only told her that he'd be returning on Saturday as scheduled and that he'd fill her in on his progress after he'd kissed her a whole lot. He didn't mention wanting to take a sailing lesson. He wasn't ready to divulge his honeymoon idea until he had found out if he'd even like it himself, if he was capable of handling a sailboat.
The Rothbower thing bugged him. His initial gut reaction had been to tell Agent Taffer to stick it up his ass, but then he got his gut under control. He understood an operation of the nature the agent was talking about, had his own experience with working between multiple agencies; at the city and county level anyway. It wouldn't take a whole lot to kill an operation that had taken weeks or even months to set up. A deep cover informant, though, with multiple federal agencies over possibly several years... CJ couldn't imagine. Apparently Rothbower was key to the entire thing, whatever the entire thing was.
By the time CJ had left Taffer's office, he knew he couldn't not agree to back down. They could make things difficult for him, probably would have if he wasn't already related to the FBI by blood. They could start playing hardball and CJ didn't even have a bat.
They didn't have to be courteous.
He got up and headed for the shower.
CJ was in the hotel dining room using a piece of toast and his fork to gang up on the last bite of egg when a shadow fell over him. He looked up.
"Mister Washburn?"
CJ blinked for a few seconds, recalling the various pictures he'd seen, then released his fork and sat back. "Douglas Rothbower."
The man looked over his shoulder as though expecting someone to be listening in, and then looked back down at CJ. "Douglas O'Reilly." CJ was sitting on the booth side of a table, his back against the wall. Rothbower, or O'Reilly, pulled out the chair on the opposite side and sat. "It is said that you have been looking for me."
CJ noted a twist of Irish Brogue, nothing like the two Paddys, however.
"Yes. But I didn't really expect to find you after I spoke with the FBI last night."
"FBI?" Douglas sat back in his chair. "Had no idea." He looked around the dining room again then leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Then you must know about UIRA."
Douglas looked away for a few seconds and CJ wondered if the man had said something he shouldn't have.
"Then you know what it is I am doing," Douglas added.
CJ leaned closer and lowered his voice, though there was no one close by in the hotel diner. "I know you're deep undercover."
"And so you do know."
"They asked me to back off because you're involved in a sensitive operation. Didn't want to put you in danger or jeopardize the mission."
O'Reilly looked just as surprised as CJ. "Yes, I could see them telling you that. But I didn't know they talked to you; surprised they trusted you. I heard by another channel that a private eye from Arizona, Tucson they said, was looking for me and that it was important that I meet with him."
"They?"
"Well, he."
"Paddy McGee?"
O'Reilly ignored the question. "Something about family. Me sister-in-law, Gianna Onassis, lives in Tucson. What's she sticking her nose into now?"
"You didn't know that your daughter was living in Tucson?"
"Alexandria? Aye, I do. Going to school."
"But you don't know of anything going on."
"I have been in and out o' country, mostly out. Returned just three days ago after a couple o' months in Northern Ireland. When I'm there I don't talk with my handler; only just checked in yesterday. They trust me to do what I have to do."
"And what is that?" CJ asked, wanting to add, that would have you deserting your family? Instead he said, "Sorry. I shouldn't ask."
"No. You shouldn't. And I shant tell you. So what about me family that Gianna deems it so important to hire you to find me? I can't imagine that Alex would hire you. Has something happened to Alexandria or Kassandra? I spoke to Kassandra earlier in the summer. Everything was fine."
"You talked with your wife?"
"I check in with her every few months, was planning a call in a day or so. When you do what I do, it's a little tricky. Just coming here to meet with you wasn't easy."
"She never told me, led me to believe she didn't know where you were, hadn't heard from you in five years."
He smiled and nodded his head. "She is good. Together we built a cover story. I left because of gambling issues or some such thing, ran out on me family. She even has people believing I'm dead. I don't gamble and as you can see, I'm not dead."
"Really?" CJ was shocked. "Kassandra went along with this?"
Douglas dropped his head for a second and then looked back up at CJ. "I am not proud of how it all started. The story we concocte
d, in the beginning, was not far from the truth. I did walk out on my family and yes, Kassandra didn't know where I was for nearly four years. Although I have since regretted it, I've gotten into something that is a lot bigger than me." He straightened his back and added, "We'd just started talking about patching things up. When this is over, I'll go back."
"When might that be?"
"Soon. The summit..." He stopped as though he'd caught his tongue getting ahead of his brain again. "It's all coming to a head so it'll be soon. I don't know if she'll have me back, but I'm ready to give it a go."
CJ sat back again and considered his next words. He had to lock his jaw against things like, 'There's nothing to go back to. You've waited too long,' or 'You think you've had regrets, wait until you hear this,' or 'You're an ass, Douglas O'Reilly/Rothbower.' Until Douglas had walked in, CJ was prepared to leave Florida without further effort to find him, telling Gianna that he'd failed, or telling her the truth. He hadn't quite thought that through yet. Now the bag was open and there was no getting it closed.
He looked straight into the man's eyes. "There's no easy way to say this, Douglas, but Alexandria is dead."
Chapter 6
Delivering the news to Gianna's brother-in-law took more out of CJ than he would have ever imagined. He'd have thought that with his mission accomplished he would have felt free to spend the day playing tourist, taking a sailing lesson or at least checking out a beach and shopping for a gift for Stella. Instead, he'd sat for some time in the hotel dining room, thinking. After a bit he found himself standing just outside the hotel entrance, wondering where to go. Noting a Starbucks next door, he went in.
The place was busy. A college-aged blond, hair wrapped up in a bun, worked the order counter while an older woman and man filled the orders behind her.
"What's your major?" CJ asked after placing his order for a regular Grande.
She gave him a surprised look.
"Florida State nearby. I made the assumption you're a college student."
"Oh!" She presented a huge, white-teethed smile. "Environmental Science. Third year."
Sailing into Death (CJ Washburn, PI Book 2) Page 3