The FBI website homepage filled his computer screen before he clicked onto the Ten Most Wanted list. He glanced at his picture just to make sure he hadn’t dreamt it the last time. His eyes roamed over the webpage: “Top Ten FBI Myths” and the “Last Steps of John Dillinger.” All fluff to entertain the public’s curiosity. Next, he hacked into the protected area and looked about...sniffing around, trying to catch a scent. Nothing of interest there so he went back to the “Story Index” on the front page and skimmed over reports and publications. One particular story caught his attention: Robert Conrad had recently been promoted to Chief of the LA Cyber Division, a job Conrad was clearly not cut out for. Conrad had spent the past three years in Cyber Unit 3 working under Jack and A.J. If A.J. hadn’t said anything about Conrad’s promotion, it was because he didn’t know. Pain, sharp and piercing, sliced through Jack’s head, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his head back against the chair until the throbbing subsided. Similar to a film clip, images of Conrad and Harrison flashed through his mind. The two men talking in the hallway, not once but twice in the weeks before Jack was sent to Haiti to find Kate. What could Harrison and Conrad possibly have in common? They were night and day when it came to personalities. Conrad was a dead fish; Harrison was a shark. What had they been talking about? Harrison might be their boss, but he wasn’t the main man in charge of Cyber Unit 3. Nor was he the man to go to with problems or future aspirations. So why had they been conversing in the hallway? Just shooting the breeze?
Jack frowned. Doubtful.
Fingertips clacking away on the keyboard, Jack found Conrad’s home address, which turned out to be about twenty-five miles from Jack’s place in Burbank. The time posted on the lower right hand corner of the monitor read 12:30 AM. He could be to Conrad’s residence and back in five to six hours, depending on how long his chat with Conrad lasted.
He looked at Kate. She looked downright peaceful when she slept. He hated to leave her, especially without talking to her first, but he had a feeling she would want to join him. He didn’t want to put her in any more danger than she was in already. Besides, she needed sleep. Quickly, he sent A.J. another scrambled message, telling him to meet him at the merry-go-round in Griffith Park.
Once the laptop screen faded to black, he moved the computer aside and stood. It took him a few minutes to find paper and pen. He wrote Kate a note in case she woke before he returned. Jack headed for the garage, making sure to shut the door quietly before locking it behind him.
Amy leaned close to the windowpane, her hands cupped around her eyes as she looked to see if anyone was still inside the bookstore. Nope. Empty and dark. If she hadn’t stayed to help the professor put away the overhead projector and the extra chairs, she might have made it to the bookstore before closing.
This was turning out to be quite a day. She’d cut her shin while shaving; arrived to work late; found those crazy numbers in the ledgers at work; got out of class too late to get to the bookstore before they closed; and now, faced with a test in a few days, didn’t have the book she needed for the test. But worst of all was telling Dr. Kramer about those ledgers.
All of Dr. Kramer’s hard work over the years...the poor woman must be reeling in shock and disbelief. To think that millions of dollars had likely been siphoned right off the top of all those people’s donations.
By who though?
Just last week, Amy’s professor had talked about greed and corruption in America, including tax evasion and fraud in small and large corporations. The more Amy thought about the situation, the more she realized she’d never be able to sleep tonight. What she needed to do was hurry back to the office and finish what she’d started this afternoon. It was the least she could do for Dr. Kramer after everything the woman had done for her. Digging through her purse for her keys, Amy headed for the parking lot. A lamplight overhead zapped and went out. She shook her head and wondered what else could go wrong today. Hopefully her car would start. It was an old Toyota Corolla with bald tires and squeaky brakes, but for the most part, the car usually managed to get her where she needed to go.
Since she’d been late getting to class tonight, her car was parked in the field across the street from the main parking lot. If she squinted, she could see it through the trees. Tempted to take a shortcut through rows of drought resistant evergreen, she remembered reading about the twenty-one year old girl who was raped on campus last month, and decided against taking the shortcut.
Her heels clacked against the pavement as she went, drowning out the sounds of frogs and crickets in a distant pond. Leaves crackled nearby. Thinking she heard movement behind her, she stopped to look around. A few feet back was an emergency button for just these sorts of scenarios.
All was quiet. She took in a deep breath and started off again. She was being ridiculous. Forcing herself to think of other things, she transferred her thoughts to Dr. Kramer and how apathetic the woman had seemed when Amy had brought the fraudulent accounting practices to her attention. Dr. Kramer looked bored the entire time Amy had showed her duplicate and even triplicate payments of the same funds. Anyone else would have been flabbergasted by the possibility of such an offense.
Amy stopped walking again. Suddenly it dawned on her that Dr. Kramer might very well be in a world of trouble. Realizing what she might have stumbled upon, Amy considered running back to class to see if the professor was still there. He would know what to do.
“Miss,” a man called, appearing from the shadows of a wall of evergreen. “Do you think I could borrow your cell? My car won’t start and I need to call my wife.”
Amy’s breath caught in her throat. The gloves the man wore were her first clue that something wasn’t right.
The glint of a knife was the second. She bolted, taking off across the parking lot toward her car. For a brief moment, Amy considered running back to the classroom, but she wasn’t sure if her professor would still be there. She had long legs. She ran five miles every morning. The stranger, on the other hand, looked older, and he had short legs. She could outrun him. The newly paved parking lot made for a faster run. She could do this. She could get away.
Thump! Ouch. She’d been hit in the back. By what? She glanced over her shoulder as she ran. He was a good ten feet back. Had he thrown his knife? An intense fiery sting, starting at her spine and working its way down her back, answered her question. Don’t let me die. Please God, no.
Fueled by adrenaline and the will to live, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. With the keys clutched in her hand, she dropped her purse. He could have her money and credit cards. Just a few more feet to her car. She reached out, gulping air, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen.
The man’s gloved hand grabbed hold of the door handle before she could reach it first. The man bent forward, one hand on his knee as he stooped over to catch his breath. The pungent smell of cigar breath made her nauseous.
Summoning the last bit of strength left in her body, she brought her right knee up hard and fast, straight into his nose.
Cursing, the man fell to the ground and covered his face with his hands.
She opened the car door. Her hands shook. The keys jangled and dropped to the pavement. Leather fingers gripped her ankle. She tried to kick him, but he was stronger than he looked, and she was dragged to the ground. Scrambling to her knees, she struggled to get back to her feet, but her body went limp with exhaustion. She was losing blood; she could feel the liquid heat squished across her back beneath her shirt. The last sound she heard was a horrible suctioning noise as the man pulled the blade from her back before plunging it deep into her side.
Chapter 13
Jack leaned against a finely carved horse on the carousel as he kept an eye out for A.J., hoping his friend received his message. At speeds of over 80 mph, he’d made good time getting to the park. A breeze rustled the dead leaves scattered about the park. The night was cool, the air fresh. It took Jack a moment to make out the dark shape heading toward him. He clasped
a hand over his customized 1911A1 9mm, a gun he liked for its mild recoil, and yet made no attempt to ready the weapon. Chances were good that it was A.J.
“Is that you?” A.J. called out.
Jack stepped away from the merry-go-round and greeted his friend. “Thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure if you would get my message at such a late hour but I thought I’d give it a whirl.”
“Becky and I don’t usually get to sleep before two in the morning. I figured it must be important if you were heading all this way. What’s going on?”
“I’ve been so focused on Kate and keeping her safe, I haven’t had much time to think about who was trying to frame me for murder or why. Now that I’ve had a few moments to think about things, I’m beginning to get fired up and ticked off. I want some answers. I figured tonight was as good as any to get started.”
A.J. crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you have in mind?”
“I want to talk to Conrad.”
“Really? Why Conrad?”
“Before I left for Haiti, I saw him talking with Harrison on more than one occasion. Last night I read on the FBI’s homepage that he’d been promoted.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, I figured you would have mentioned it if you’d heard.”
A.J. shook his head. “The funny thing is...I saw Harrison talking to Monahan at the AIDS fundraiser Becky and I attended recently. I found that odd. When I approached them, Monahan backed off immediately. Harrison played it cool.”
“Monahan and Conrad,” Jack ground out. “The combination makes no sense...unless Harrison is using them in some way.” Jack released air through his teeth. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind taking a little ride with me to Conrad’s place, shake him up a little and see what he has to say about all of this.”
“If he’s clean, I could end up in as much trouble as you’re in already,” A.J. said.
“Yeah, that’s why I brought a couple of ski masks from your sister’s place. I’ll do all the talking so he won’t be able to positively identify you. In fact, if you’d rather stay in the background, I’m good with that.”
“Are you kidding me? And miss out on all the fun? The guy has been a thorn in my side since the day he stepped into our unit. And now he thinks he’s going to take my promotion and get away with it? I don’t think so.”
“We’ll use the truck,” Jack said. “If all goes smoothly, we’ll have you back in bed with your bride-to-be in a few hours.”
“Yeah, she’s not happy about this, you know. Second night in a row I’ve crept off in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called the wedding off.”
Jack looked over at him. His friend appeared genuinely concerned. “What happened to the guy who was so afraid of being tied down by the old ball and chain?”
“That guy grew up. The idiot opened his eyes one day and realized he had the girl of his dreams sleeping beside him. The idea of waking up without her right there next to him made him sick to his stomach. That’s what happened to that guy. He finally grew up.”
“That’s great.” A silver lining amidst all the bullshit raining down around him, Jack thought. “I’m happy for both of you.”
It wasn’t long before Jack pulled the truck to the side of the road and shut off the engine. “Conrad’s house is the third house on the right.”
“A nice neighborhood for a single guy from the Bronx.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” Jack handed A.J. a ski mask and pulled the other one over his head. Then he grabbed the roll of duct tape he’d brought and climbed out of the truck.
Using a pick and tension wrench, it took A.J. all of three minutes to get Conrad’s front door unlocked. The neighborhood was exceptionally quiet, and the inside of Conrad’s house wasn’t any different. No background noises from appliances or fans.
They looked around in the dark to see if they could find a silent alarm, anything that might tip Conrad off as to their late night visit. So far, so good. No alarms, no dogs.
Although he wasn’t a decorator by any means, Jack knew the difference between fine crystal and plate glass, and he could spot an antique a mile away. Conrad’s house boasted fine crystal and antiques. As A.J. followed Jack across the front room and up the stairs, the carpeted floors helped to muffle their footsteps. Neither of them said a word.
Jack’s anger at being framed for murder overshadowed the surreal realization that he was wearing a mask and breaking and entering. As they reached the landing, Jack held out a hand and pointed to the first door to the right, letting A.J. know he was going to stop and check the room out. Slowly, his fingers curled around the doorknob, careful to take his time and make as little noise as possible as he opened the door. The room was littered with junk: stacks of plastic bins, files, office supplies. Nobody there.
Jack left the door ajar and headed for the room at the end of the hallway. The door was open, and he could hear snoring. Jack used a gloved hand to edge the door wider. His eyes had adjusted to the dark a while ago. A king-sized bed filled a good portion of the room. The substantial lump under the covers told Jack they had found Conrad.
Jack felt a tap on his shoulder. A.J. handed him a tiny glass bottle filled with ether. Jack left his gun in his waistband and headed across the room toward the left side of the bed. He removed the lid from the glass vial and carefully set it on the bedside table. He put his thumb over the top of the vial to keep the ether from spilling.
Conrad slept on his back. Before Conrad had a chance to wake up, A.J. held Conrad’s arms and chest against the mattress while Jack grabbed a fistful of Conrad’s hair with his left hand and shoved the open vial up his nostril. Conrad’s eyes opened, but he didn’t have a fighting chance before his head fell limp onto the pillows.
“Look at him,” Jack said to A.J. noting Conrad’s swollen nose and black eye. “From the looks of it, he’s been in a bar fight recently.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” A.J. said. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a more annoying man.”
“Where did you get the ether?”
“I was a Boy Scout, remember? BE PREPARED.”
They had little time before the effects of the ether would wear off, so they left the small talk behind and worked quickly and efficiently. By the time Conrad woke, the bedroom light was on and they had Conrad’s waist and feet duct taped to a spindled back chair that A.J. had found in another room. Jack couldn’t find anything to put over Conrad’s eyes, so he’d wrapped duct tape around his head and over his eyes. As he regained consciousness, Conrad struggled to get loose. The chair nearly tipped over.
“Don’t make me shove the vial up your nose again, Conrad.”
Conrad’s head jerked upward as he tried to see who was in the room. “Who’s there? What do you want?”
“Tell me what I want to know and you’ll be back in bed snoring away before I can count to fifty.”
Conrad growled, banging his body around until the chair finally toppled over. He muttered and cursed until Jack had had enough. He opened the vial and waved it under Conrad’s nose.
Five minutes later, the chair was upright again and duct taped to one of the bedposts so Conrad would stay stationary.
A.J. stood off to the side and watched, arms crossed in front of him.
“I work for the FBI, asshole,” Conrad said. Drool slid down the left side of his mouth. “You’re going to prison, my friend, and I’ll be paying you a visit every day for the rest of your short life just so I can remind you that you don’t fuck with the FBI.”
Jack and A.J. had both removed their masks. Jack looked at A.J. and pretended to shake in his boots at Conrad’s words. A.J. smiled and gave Conrad the finger.
“Do you want to chatter away the rest of the morning or do you want to hear why I’m paying you a visit?”
“Is that you, Coffey?” Conrad laughed. “It is you,” he said as if he could see him through two layers of tape. “You fucking pea-brained idiot. I could smell yo
ur prissy little ass a mile away. You’re already wanted for murder, so I guess you figure you have nothing to lose, is that right?”
Judging by the expression on A.J.’s face, his friend wanted to kick Conrad in the nuts and then hang him by the ears...and not necessarily in that order.
Jack put up a hand to keep A.J. at bay for a moment longer. He knew A.J. could be a hothead back in his day, but it had been a long time since college, and until now Jack had forgotten about A.J.’s tendency to react impetuously.
“Listen, Conrad,” Jack went on. “I want to know what you, Harrison, and Monahan are up to. What’s with the boys’ club? What do you three have to talk about when nobody else is around to hear you?”
Conrad spit across the room, just missing Jack’s leg.
A twitch set in Jack’s jaw. The man was getting on his nerves in a big way. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”
“That’s how it’s going to be, asshole. We both know you don’t have the balls to go through with whatever you might have planned, so let me go and I’ll put in a good word for you. Maybe get a year or two off your life sentence.”
Jack rubbed his fingers over his chin. “Well, Conrad, the funny thing is you might have been right about me a week ago, but there’s something about being shot at and framed for a murder you didn’t commit that changes the way a guy thinks. I didn’t think I’d need to torture you to get information out of you, but as you’ve pointed out, what do I have to lose?”
Jack nodded, prompting A.J. to step forward and press the barrel of his gun against Conrad’s temple.
Conrad paled the moment the gun made contact with his head. “What’s going on? Who’s here with you?”
Finding Kate Huntley Page 11