Gone Bad
Page 4
“We might be able to help you with that. But for that, we need to speak to Hunter.”
The girl dabbed her eyes.
“You need to pass on a message if he calls.”
“And what’s that?”
“Tell Hunter that Jon Reznick is wanting to speak to him. I know Hunter pretty good. We were in Delta together, way back.”
The girl nodded.
“Jon Reznick. You want me to write that down?”
The girl nodded.
Reznick scribbled down his name and handed the card back to her. “That’s got my name on it, and this lady’s number. Hunter can contact me direct on her cellphone.”
“What if he doesn’t call me?”
“Let me worry about that.”
EIGHT
Meyerstein was in a conference room in the FBI’s Pensacola field office, watching a rerun of the footage on one of the big screens, coffee in hand, as her second in command, Special Agent Roy Stamper, paced the floor. “You wanna sit down, Roy?”
Stamper shook his head. “I warned you about this sort of thing, Martha. I warned time and time again. This is what happens when we allow crazies like Reznick in on our work.”
Meyerstein said nothing. She felt uneasy about the methods Reznick had used, and couldn’t see any upside. The illegality was clear.
“Threatening to kill a biker in a clubhouse? That’s outrageous. Illegal. And, frankly, the stuff of nightmares. If this gets out, and mark my words it will, we’re fucked. We’ll be crucified.”
“Quiet!”
“No I won’t! I’ve put up with this sort of bullshit for too long, Martha. What in God’s name is the director going to say about this?”
Meyerstein ran a hand through her hair. “It’s not ideal, I see that.”
“Not ideal? Are you kidding me? It’s outrageous. It’s illegal. Immoral. It’s frankly embarrassing that this behavior was carried out in the name of the FBI. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined us doing that.”
Meyerstein stared at the footage, seething. “I said, enough!”
“That’s a law suit waiting to happen. It’s just a matter of time.”
“I’ll deal with it.”
“But you know what gets me, Martha? The lack of purpose. There’s no point to it. There’s no gain.”
Meyerstein switched off the footage with a remote control and stared at Stamper. “Roy, tell me, have your guys come up with any concrete leads so far?”
He sighed. “No, we haven’t. But we sure as hell didn’t ram guns into people’s mouths. Martha, chrissakes, this isn’t Iraq. This is America. I’m at a loss to understand why you tolerate this guy.”
“The reason I tolerate him, as you describe it, is that on each and every investigation he’s been with me, he’s not only delivered, he’s saved lives.”
“And this time?”
“I’ll talk to him about this. I agree, it’s unacceptable.”
“Unacceptable? Unacceptable? It’s the actions of a burnt-out crazy.”
Meyerstein sat down and leaned back in a leather seat, hands behind her head. A silence opened up between them. Only the low growl of the air-conditioning unit and the hum of the computers disturbed the quiet.
A knock at the door, and a young rookie agent popped his head round. “Ma’am, they’ll be back in two minutes.”
Meyerstein nodded, staring at the ceiling.
The young agent shut the door.
Meyerstein said, “Roy, can you leave me with my thoughts just now?”
Stamper stared at her long and hard. “Of course.”
“Send in Jon Reznick when he gets back.”
“What about the rest of the team for the debrief?”
“Just Reznick.”
Stamper left the conference room. A couple of minutes later Reznick walked in.
“You looking for a debrief?”
“Shut the door behind you.”
Reznick shut the door quietly behind him. He pulled up a seat and slumped down. “You’re not very good at concealing your feelings, Meyerstein. What is it?”
Meyerstein leaned forward. “What is it? Let me think. Is it the forcing a gun into a guy’s mouth, the shooting, the countless violations of the Constitution, breaking our US laws, and God knows what else?”
Reznick said nothing.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Reznick blew out his cheeks.
“I’m waiting for an answer. I’m very close to taking you off this team, Jon. I don’t want to. But this is absolutely not what we’re about.”
“Oh yeah, and what are you about? Waiting to get a goddamn lead that might never turn up? Listen, sometimes, you just have to push back and sometimes people get hurt. Egos get bruised.”
“This is not about egos getting bruised. It’s about a man getting shot.”
“A man? Every one of those fuckers in there is a felon. You know it, I know it, and every goddamn other person knows it.”
“We have rules for a reason.”
“Those rules are worthless when you’re up against people like Hunter Cain. You need to try and get into their heads, like I said.”
“And did it work?”
“I could do without the sarcasm, thanks. Actually, did it work? We’ll just have to wait and see.”
A knock at the door.
“Come in!” Meyerstein said.
The door opened and Stamper walked in. “Martha, can I have a word?”
“What is it?”
“Update from the hospital. The shot biker has lost consciousness. And the one who got smashed with the pool cue has bleeding on the brain. They’re about to operate.”
Meyerstein stared at the floor and sighed. “Keep me informed if there are any developments, Roy. That’ll be all just now.”
Stamper shut the door.
Meyerstein took a few moments to compose herself as she looked across at Reznick. “Bleeding on the brain, and another bleeding out in surgery and unconscious. Great, just great.”
Reznick said nothing.
“Do you know what I’m going to have to deal with now?”
Reznick shook his head.
“The directors of the FBI and Homeland Security are almost certainly going to be pressing charges against you. And you know what? I couldn’t do anything about it. Did you think of that before you stormed in there?”
“We’ve had this kind of discussion before.”
“This time you’ve crossed the line.”
“Sometimes, you need to ruffle the feathers. You need to get in close. They’ve got to see you, smell you, and see where it takes you.”
“I didn’t expect you to go in there and act like that.”
“Didn’t you? What did you expect? Did you expect me just to rock up there, stroll up to the bar and get a Heineken, and start playing pool with them?”
“I expected you to get in and out, armed as you were, without this carnage. What it also means is that the focus is taken away from the hunt for Cain. It’s just not okay, Jon.”
The conference-room phone rang. “Goddamn.” She leaned over and picked up. “Meyerstein! What?”
“Sir, let me get back to you in five minutes. I’m dealing with it.”
Meyerstein hung up. “Well, that’s just completed the circle. The director of the FBI is wanting me back in DC right away.” She put her head in her hands. “Goddamn.”
Reznick said nothing.
The minutes dragged as they sat in awkward silence till Meyerstein’s cellphone rang.
“Gimme a goddamn break!” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone, pressing it to her ear. “Yeah.” She frowned. “I’m sorry – who are you?” She handed the phone to Reznick. “It’s Kathleen Burke. The girl from the bar. She’s crying.”
NINE
The SUV with Reznick in the back and Meyerstein in the passenger seat pulled up outs
ide a crummy house in a rundown street on the outskirts of Pensacola. They went inside and upstairs. Kathleen Burke was sitting in her bedroom, drinking a beer, cigarette in hand, tears streaming down her face.
“Okay, you’re safe?” Reznick asked.
Burke shook her head.
Reznick went up to her. Her eyes were glazed. “Kathleen, you weren’t making much sense. You said your mother called you. And that’s all I could make out.”
Burke stared blankly at him.
“Your mother? Where’s she?”
“She’s fine. She looks after my son in Panama City.”
“Has he visited her?”
Burke closed her eyes for a moment. “He called her.”
“Hunter?”
The girl began to cry. “I’m scared.”
Meyerstein punched a number into her cellphone. “What’s your mother’s number?”
Burke gave it.
“We’ll send a specialist team across and get them to a safe house,” Meyerstein said. “We need to get your mother and your son out of there. Do you understand?”
Burke nodded. She gave the address and telephone number.
“We’ll also do a trace and find where Hunter called from.”
Burke said nothing as Meyerstein made the call.
Reznick moved closer to her. “Tell me what happened.”
“He’s crazy you know. I love him. But he’s crazy.”
Reznick nodded.
“He warned my mother he would …”
Burke glanced at Meyerstein and dragged heavily on her cigarette. “You’ve no fucking idea what he’s like.”
Reznick said, “I know exactly what he’s like, trust me.”
“No you don’t. You don’t know what he’s really like.”
“I know he’s a nasty bastard, okay?”
“That doesn’t cover the half of it.”
“What did he say to your mother, Kathleen?”
Burke slumped to the floor, gulped some beer and crushed her cigarette into an ashtray on a small coffee table. Smoke blew from her nose. “A few years back he raped me. Before he got put away.”
Reznick said nothing as Meyerstein headed out into the hall.
“Was this reported?”
“What do you think, I’m crazy?”
“Have these guys got a hold over you?”
“I don’t have anyone. Even my mother’s more or less disowned me.” She rolled up her sleeves and showed the track marks. Scabbed over. “Huh? You think I’m a diabetic? Wrong. I’m a fucking heroin addict. And those guys provide me with whatever they’ve got. For favors.”
Reznick reached out and held her hands between his. “That stops as of now. Do you understand?”
“I can’t. He called my mother. He told her he’s gonna kill me. He said he’s gonna come back and kill me. But first he’s gonna rape me. That’s what he said. As God is my witness.”
“No one’s gonna hurt you again, Kathleen. We’re gonna get you help. And treatment for your addiction. Whatever it takes. But we need to move you away, for safety.”
Burke began to cry, and flung her arms around him. “Don’t let him come back. He’s fucking crazy.”
“You’re going to be safe now.”
TEN
The sky was burnt orange as the SUV with Hunter Cain and his two militia comrades headed south on I-95. His mind was racing. The message to one of his men in the back seat about Jon Reznick working with the FBI had enraged him. But he wondered if he’d been unduly hasty, contacting Kathleen’s mother.
The driver headed off the freeway and pulled up at a diner near Vero Beach. He went in followed by his two comrades.
Cain took a window seat as they tucked into coffee, scrambled eggs, pancakes awash with maple syrup. They ate in silence as country music played loud. The black waitress was bugging him. He leaned close to his two comrades, Pete and Neil. “I need someone in Pensacola taken care of. Today. Who’s my best bet that’s not on the inside, obviously?”
Neil said, “My brother will do it, if that’s what you want. No questions asked.”
“I thought he’d moved to Vermont?”
“Came back couple weeks ago.”
“Not seen Matt for … ten years, right?”
“Not far off. Who you want dealt with?”
“Kathleen Burke.”
Neil said nothing.
“You got a problem with that, Neil?”
“If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”
“I heard Reznick took her out of the bar after shooting up one of the Outlaws, and left another in hospital. They’re going to try and turn her against me.”
“What’s this Reznick like? He a problem for us?”
Cain gulped some of the coffee down. “He’s a bad bastard, I know that.”
“One of your Delta guys?”
“Absolutely. Never said too much. But he didn’t have to.”
“Why’s that?”
“I fought with him in shitholes across Iraq. Tough as they come.”
Neil nodded. “You mentioned Kathleen Burke. Won’t they have moved her?”
“They will, most certainly.”
“So how will you know where?”
Cain grinned. “Let me worry about that.”
“How the hell is that possible? You tracking her cellphone?”
Hunter shook his head and sipped some coffee. “She changes her phone every year, sometimes more.”
“So how can you track her?”
“Trust me – I know where she is.”
Neil stared at Cain but said nothing.
“I want her taken care of. And I don’t care who gets hurt in the process. Do you understand?”
“He’ll need to know where she is.”
“I’ll send that on to him. But I just need you to contact him and ask first if he can do this job.”
Neil pulled out his new cellphone, punched in the number for his brother and relayed the message. He nodded. “Whatever it takes, bro.” He ended the call.
“We good to go?”
“He says that’s not a problem.”
“Take the battery and flush it down the toilet.”
Neil did that and returned.
Cain smiled and cocked his head, and they followed him back to the SUV, engine running. He climbed into the passenger seat as Neil and Pete got in the back. “Step on it. We got people to kill.”
ELEVEN
Reznick was in the bathroom of an FBI safe house on the bayou in an upscale part of Fort Walton Beach, just south of Pensacola. It was a chalet sitting a couple or so miles inland alongside a deepwater boat slip. He splashed cold water on his face. He was relieved they’d gotten Kathleen Burke out of any blowback. She’d been given some methadone, stopping her going cold turkey. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dead eyes, pupils like pinpricks after he popped another Dexedrine.
He went upstairs. The living-room blinds were shut as Kathleen Burke chain- smoked cigarettes, filling the room with haze.
Meyerstein said, “Kathleen, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to know more about what you and Hunter talked about when you visited.”
“Why?”
“We just need to try and build up a picture of him. What he was really like. Leavenworth said he and his crew kept themselves to themselves. Very tight.”
“That’s true.”
“Okay, tell me, your last visit, how did that pan out?”
Burke dragged long on her cigarette, blowing the smoke through the side of her mouth when she exhaled. “He was kinda quiet. We were speaking through glass as we always did, you know, phone to phone.”
“Okay, let’s talk about what he did say.”
Burke looked across at Reznick. “Guy stuff.”
Reznick nodded. “He talk politics?”
“Actually, yes he did.”
Reznick said, “Was that u
nusual?”
“Not really.”
Reznick turned and looked at Meyerstein. “You okay if I ask a few questions here?”
Meyerstein shook her head. “Go right ahead.”
Reznick sat down on the sofa opposite Burke and leaned forward. “I knew Hunter very well in Delta. Now, when you work or play with someone, you get to know things about them. Their moods. Their attitudes. Their views. Getting back to him talking politics, what did he talk about?”
“Jews.”
Reznick said nothing as Meyerstein shifted on the sofa.
“He didn’t like them. At all. Said one of his guys had killed what he called a Jewish guy in the toilets the previous week.”
“What else?”
“The government.”
“What about them?”
Burke touched the expensive-looking silver cross round her neck. “He was pretty paranoid. Went on and on about surveillance. Government everywhere. Cursed all the time. When he was finished cursing, he asked about his son.”
Reznick nodded.
Meyerstein said, “Kathleen, the clubhouse where you were hanging out … If Hunter wasn’t there, what’s that all about?”
“Sexual favors in return for some brown, okay?”
“Heroin?”
Reznick stared again at the cross around her neck. He was surprised that a desperate woman like Burke hadn’t sold it for drugs.
Burke’s eyes filled with tears again. “I’m not proud of what I am. But yes, heroin. Satisfied?”
Meyerstein said, “Did Hunter know about this?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What would happen if he did?”
“He’d kill me, and then every goddamn Outlaw he could find. Period. Then he’d burn the place to the ground.”
“Kathleen, we’re going to get you proper help. This is just the first stage, okay? Your son and mother are safe. And you are safe.”
“What a mess. What a fucking mess!”
Meyerstein sat down beside her. “Now you’re safe here, okay. We’ll make sure there are two special agents with you, 24/7, okay?”
Burke nodded, eyes dead.
“Kathleen,” Meyerstein said, “before Hunter was jailed, were you living with him? Did he stay overnight, that kind of thing?”