by Skye, S. D.
“How do you do that?” Tony asked looking at J.J. curiously.
Gia frowned, her face green with envy at Tony’s unintended show of admiration.
“I told you…it’s a gift.” She glanced at Gia and cleared her throat. “Well I, for one, don’t think I can take another interview today. Gia, if you don’t mind stepping out for a second? I need to discuss a few things with Tony in private. Bureau business.”
Gia eyed Tony and disappeared into the adjacent room, closing the door behind her.
“Interesting, huh?” J.J. said. “We have to ask ourselves why a security officer, a counterintelligence officer, would hook-up a cleared military attaché with a Russian woman, knowing it would break the no-frat policy, not to mention every security policy ever written.”
“Either he’s dirty, or he’s an idiot.”
“Let’s see, he was serving as a CIA security officer in Moscow. Idiot is definitely not off the table.” J.J. said. “Speaking of Six, he should know Mr. Cooper. Russia House isn’t very big.”
“Yeah, he’s also Kendel’s ex,” Tony said. “Maybe his ‘activities’ had something to do with their break-up. Seems like we’ve got more poking around to do.”
Tony laughed, stood up, and opened the door for J.J. When she stepped out of the conference room and into the office area, she ran smack into Kendel, who was waiting to escort them out.
“Long day. Are we ready to go?” Kendel asked.
Everyone nodded and followed her lead.
“You guys unearth anything interesting today?”
“Tomlin was quite informative,” J.J. said. “But I was wondering when Maddix Cooper is expected to return.”
Kendel began to fidget with the badge dangling from the chain around her neck. “He’s taking some much-needed time away.”
“I see,” J.J. said, feeling a slight sensation behind her left ear. Still lying. Kendel continued to dig a deeper hole of deception, and J.J. was no closer to the truth than when she started. The vision of paper dolls danced in J.J.’s head and made it ache.
The second she cleared the West Wing entrance, J.J. retrieved her phone from her purse and dialed Headquarters. She needed answers and at this stage there was only one place to get them.
“Did you find any intel on Maddix Cooper?” J.J. asked Sunnie.
“Not yet but I found a new angle on that query against the entry and exit records,” Sunnie said. “I think I’m onto something.”
Chapter 38
Thursday Morning—Surveillance Detail
Hopper Mack’s stomach roiled as he dragged his hands down the length of his jeans from his thighs to his knees, drying the clamminess. He then chewed his last remaining nail while pacing the floor, a ritual he’d performed at least nine times since he arrived that morning. He had a lot at stake, his professional reputation, his career, his sanity.
His gut instinct had ruled him for so long that he didn’t know how to shut it down and think through the consequences of his actions.
Some called it genius, other called it recklessness. A whole lot of people would call it the reason he got canned if the Russians swept Mikhaylov’s car and yanked out the last GPS unit. In one fell swoop, he may have wrecked the single chance the Bureau had to find Lana before she killed another agent and absconded to Moscow.
Before Hopper could return to his seat, Kyle straggled in bearing his trademark snarl and two steaming cups in his hand.
“Have a seat and drink this,” Kyle grumbled. “It’ll take the edge off.”
Hopper waved in refusal. “Coffee gives me the jitters. No, thanks.”
“Well, today’s your lucky day. It’s not coffee.”
Hopper held the cup to his face and sniffed. His nose wrinkled. “What is this…hair of the dog? Eye of newt? Hot arsenic?”
Kyle chuckled. “You should be so lucky. It’s tea. Zen. It’ll help calm you down. Give you something to do with your mouth other than bite your nails to the nub.” Kyle’s eyes darted around the room, finally locking on the radio sitting silently at the end of the conference table. “Got a call from my confidential informant last night. Still no takers on the passport but I’m holding out ho— Something wrong with the radio?”
Other than the fact that I didn’t turn it on? No,” Hopper replied. “I couldn’t stand to listen. The wait is killing me. Thought you’d leave the room long enough for me to catch the tail end.”
Kyle rolled his eyes, stood up and stretched his arm to the edge the table until his palm wrapped around the unit. “Look on the bright side, Junior.” He flipped the switch to the “on” position. “Things always get worse before they’re completely shot to hell. You’ve still got a little further to fall.”
Hopper shook his head in disbelief, thankful he wasn’t suicidal.
“Boot up the computer and let’s get the tracker up.”
A few pressed switches on the projector and a Web browser appeared on the wall screen. Hopper’s fingers tapped against the keyboard until a map of the perimeter of the Russian Embassy appeared. He stared at the arrow.
“Still in the compound,” Kyle said.
Before the momentary distraction ceased and the tension kicked back in, Jazz’s voice boomed through the radio. “Heads up, Blue Team. Rabbit 1 is approaching the gate. Repeat, Rabbit 1 is approaching the gate. I’ve got the eye.”
“It’s Filchenko,” Kyle said. “Shouldn’t be long now before we know your fate.”
Hopper locked his eyes on the red arrow, his heart thumping like rapid succession sonic booms. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He sat paralyzed, waiting for the moment the Gs would call out Lana’s father’s car. “It’s not moving. It’s not moving. He usually leaves right on Filchenko’s bumper,” he said in despair.
“Relax. Give it a minute. The lookouts haven’t called him out yet.”
The radio fell silent. The sound of static filled the room.
Minutes later, the radio popped.
“Rabbit 2 is slowly approaching the gate,” Jiggy said. “Rabbit 2 is slowly approaching the gate.
“The arrow’s not moving!” Hopper yelled as he crumbled into a pool of anxiety. “Fuck!”
He blew his big chance. His career was over before it began. Nobody would ever trust him to run an op again. Even if they didn’t immediately fire him, they’d probably treat him as if they had. His gut had steered him wrong and he had no one to blame except his stubborn, hard-headed self. He ribbed his fingers through his hair and stared at his feet until his vision blurred. “I can’t believe this shit!”
“Look!” Kyle yelled, pointing at the screen.
Hopper looked up and inhaled until the air filled his lungs to capacity. The arrow moved toward Wisconsin Avenue. “Yes!” He smacked his fist into the other hand in a loud pop before placing his hand over his chest. Within seconds, his breathing slowed. “Whew! That was close!”
Kyle patted his shoulder. “You must’ve put on one helluva a performance, Junior. Not many could pull one over on Mikhaylov. He’s damn good.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “We’re getting close to Michaels. I can feel it.”
“We’ll know by the end of the day.”
Kyle palmed the radio and called out, “Jiggy, this is Blue Leader. The tracker’s working. Pull it up on your iPhone. When he goes aggressive, hang back. We need to give him some time in the black so he’ll make the drop.”
“If he makes a move, I’m on him,” Jiggy said. “Time to focus. I’m out.”
Hopper stood up and grabbed his tea from the table. “I need coffee now.”
Kyle shut down the computer and the screen went dark. “Get it to go. We’ve got work to do.”
“I thought we were gonna monitor the op today.”
“We’ve got more important matters to attend to than playing watch the arrow,” Kyle said, waiting for Hopper to follow him to the door. “Grab your radio and we’ll get on the road. I want to finish up these interviews before the end of the week.”
“Exactly,” Kyle said. “We’ve been sidetracked too long. I’ve still got a couple of addresses on Kenyon to hit before we finish up at Irving Street.”
“What if she left the area?”
“Then we find someplace else to search. We’re closing the walls in on all sides and we need to keep bringing the heat. I want her to feel claustrophobic from the pressure. That’s when she’ll make her biggest mistake.”
Chapter 39
Thursday Morning – The White House
J.J. had nearly drowned in testosterone by the time she, Tony, and Six approached the West Wing entrance. The boys had been volleying insults for an hour, going at it like male pit bulls vying for Alpha supremacy. She’d have preferred to exclude Six from the trip, but they needed him, whether Tony wanted to admit it or not.
Based on what she could glean from his personnel file, Bryer Scott wouldn’t make the interview easy. Despite his stellar work performance, he’d been cited numerous times for his brash attitude and inability to play well with others; he took issue with authority. Spending the early hours of his morning glaring at the twisted faces of two FBI agents and a case officer would not fill him with light and sunshine. The mere presence of CIA counterintelligence would, however, keep Bryer from going too far off the reservation with any tall tales.
In the meantime, she had her own demons to deal with—namely, the one shuffling toward the door with red-veined eyes and a vacant stare. Kendel had descended yet another step from the day before. Her countenance and attire lacked their usual elegance. The fresh-from-the-dry cleaner crispness had been replaced by crumpled fabric and a face creased with worry. Dark circles betrayed her sleepless nights. The investigation was surely taking its toll, but J.J. wondered why it had impacted her to this degree—unless she was culpable.
Granted, she’d have to answer for the breach in the Situation Room, but insider spies were an evil every government agency with secrets worth selling struggled with. Even under the tightest and most stringent security measures, those determined to do harm would always find a way to burrow into Government secrets like treacherous termites, silently causing unseen damage until the walls crumbled. No, Kendel’s issue ran much deeper. She’d already lied to J.J. on multiple occasions. With each passing day, the stress wore her down, and J.J. could only hope Kendel’s inevitable breakdown would lead her closer to revealing the truth.
“Back at it this morning, I see,” Kendel said, her voice flat. She stopped short of the entranceway and flicked her hand, gesturing for the group to follow her. Six fell in beside Kendel as she led them down the narrow aisle to their temporary space.
“We just can’t seem to pull ourselves away,” J.J. said. “Any idea when Mr. Scott’s expected to arrive?”
“Yes. He’s on the way,” Kendel said. “Any idea when you’re going to get the bug out of my conference space?”
“Director Freeman has briefed the President on the issue,” J.J. replied. “When the time comes to remove it, you’ll be the fifth to know.”
Six turned to Kendel, paused to take in her worn expression, and whispered, “Are you okay?”
She nodded weakly and stepped aside so the team could enter. “Home again,” Kendel said. “Call me. If I’m not here when you’re ready to leave, Hawk will escort you out.”
Before she disappeared from sight, J.J. asked, “Will you be around to talk later? You know, so we can update you on the investigation.” She immediately sensed Kendel’s reticence from the uncomfortable look on her face.
“I’m not well. I may not be here,” she answered.
“Try to be,” J.J. urged.
Once inside, J.J. closed the door behind her and glared at Tony and Six in a way that made each stiffen their lips. They understood she meant business…and not monkey business. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two today, but it’s time to knock it off.” She turned to Tony. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Hey, I’m not the one walking around here acting like this is the dating game. If he’ll man up and grow a pair, I’ll keep it professional.”
Six rolled his eyes and glared at Tony. “What’s the matter? My presence threaten you? Thought you two weren’t an item anymore,” he said. “Besides, I’m a complex man and fully capable of multi-tasking. If you’ve got a problem, step aside and let the grown men get to work!”
“That’s enough you two,” J.J. said. “This whole thing of behaving like five- year-olds comparing the sizes of your popsicles is getting old.”
The door opened and Sheldon Vance appeared, wearing the hell out of the sleek, black double-breasted number that accentuated the guns bulging through his sleeves. Each time she saw him she was wondered what they called him in his previous life. Maybe his name was Hunkeus, the Greek god of Fine.
“Good morning, Agent McCall,” he said, stepping aside to usher in their interviewee. “This is Bryer Scott.”
An early 40-ish Caucasian man cloaked in blue polyester slacks, a casual tieless button-up, and a surly junkyard dog expression stepped inside the office. He scanned each face until he locked on Six’s. “What’s he doing here?”
Six sneered but didn’t speak, as instructed.
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing all morning,” said J.J. “Unfortunately, my boss says we had to invite him along to keep us honest. You know, ensure the Agency’s interests are protected. Don’t worry, though, he’s been ordered to observe.”
“Step into our office and have a seat,” Tony said. “We’ll get you out of here as quickly as possible.”
They all entered the makeshift interrogation room and took seats, leaving Bryer an open chair at the opposite end. He sat down and rubbed his hands together. While he appeared calm from the waist up, his knee bounced beneath the table to the point of distraction.
“You look pretty serious for this to be an informal talk. Do I need to call my attorney?”
J.J. masked her intensified suspicion with a slight grin. “Not unless you think you’ve engaged in illegal activity. We certainly didn’t call you here for that reason.”
Tony nodded in agreement. “Just need to ask you a few questions, and we’ll get you out of here.”
He nodded in agreement and waited for the first question.
“So, how do you know Maddix Cooper?”
“Coop? What’s he got to do with this?”
“We have some…concerns about his activity in Moscow and need to clear up a few issues.” J.J. glanced at Six who jutted his chin in approval. “We hear he’s quite the party guy.”
Bryer’s shoulders dropped as if he was let off the hook after J.J. suggested Maddix was the focus of the investigation. He fell back in his seat and appeared to enjoy a moment of nostalgia. “Heh, heh, heh. He was a rascal that’s for sure. A wolf in coyote’s clothing. Never met a bottle of Stoli he didn’t like. Coop was the go-to guy. Need a good cigar? Go to Coop. Need a girl? Go to Coop.”
“Need money?” J.J. asked as if she’d already anticipated the answer.
“Yeah,” Bryer replied. “Money, too.”
“He’s a mid-level government guy,” Tony asked. “How does he get to be the money guy on his salary?”
Bryer shrugged. “Hey, don’t ask, don’t tell. That’s what they say, right?”
“Ahem!” Six belted out, tilting his head to the side and scrunching his face. Based on his expression, it was a signal. He wanted them to ask a question they hadn’t asked.
J.J. fired daggers through her narrowed eyes, tightened her lips, and sliced the tip of her index fingernail across her throat.
“Excuse him,” J.J. said to Bryer, clearly annoyed. “So, did you ever go to Maddix for money?”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Bryer pulled out his cell phone and positioned the screen so J.J. and Tony could see he was scrolling his contacts. “Now, where’s the name of my attorney?”
“Keep ‘im on speed dial, huh?�
�� Tony said.
“Nobody’s accused you of anything, Mr. Scott. At least not yet,” J.J. said, ready to carefully examine every movement, expression, and focus on each word. It seemed like the perfect time to ask about the Sea Ray, the McMansion on water. “Now, can you tell us about The Devil’s Rest?”
He froze and his eyes bulged before he settled against the back of his seat, trying to play it cool. “It’s a present to myself for surviving my former wife.”
“That’s a mighty big gift for a bad wedding,” Tony said.
“With all due respect, Agent Donato, you haven’t met my ex-wife.”
Six guffawed from the corner and said, “Touché!”
J.J. rolled her eyes, turned to Six, and let out a heavy breath. “Really?” She turned back to Bryer, frustrated. She couldn’t get a read on him because he never directly answered a question. “How’d you get the money? I mean…you’re a what? GS-12?”
“Thought this was about Coop?!” he barked as his gaze flitted around the room. “I didn’t come here to be interrogated.”
“Ahem!” Six belted out, tilting his head to the side and scrunching his face.
“We didn’t come here to interrogate you,” Tony snapped, shifting into bad-cop mode. “But I’m listening to this bullshit, and you haven’t directly answered a single question Agent McCall or I have asked. If I wanted to be jerked off, I’d make a midnight run to 14th Street.” He grunted and turned to J.J. “He’s stonewalling. I say screw this and get a warrant. Jets play tonight. I don’t’ have time for this.”
“I’d hate to go the warrant route,” J.J. said, staring Bryer down. “Listen, we came here to talk about Maddix Cooper. You don’t want to talk about him? Fine. We’ll talk about you. I can start with the work of fiction in your personnel file. Or I can open that big ugly can of worms security won’t find in the file because somebody, I’m not naming any names, failed to do his due diligence in reporting significant changes in finances.”
Tony faced J.J. and said, “Last I checked, that’s enough justification to get clearances yanked, right? The devil will have plenty of time to rest. Does your attorney know about the financial reporting requirements necessary to maintain your clearances?”