The Bricklayer

by Noah Boyd

She drank the rest of her drink and poured another ounce into her glass, holding up the flask to him. “No, I’m good.”

  “On the drink or my offer?”

  “I know in the not too distant future, I’ll regret this, but both.”

  Vail could see a sadness flood through her, not one of rejection, but of having to be alone.

  She threw back the remaining bourbon and swallowed it. “That’s very diplomatic, but please don’t take that tack. I doubt I would find you nearly as interesting if I thought you were the kind of man who was capable of regret.”

  TWELVE

  WHEN VAIL GOT TO THE OFFICE THE NEXT MORNING, HE FOUND KATE busy at her computer. He sat down across the desk from her while she continued to type. She looked up briefly and nodded, a little too casually, he thought. Maybe she was trying to undo any feelings exposed the night before. He smiled to himself and then became lost in the efficiency of her hands. Like her, they were athletic, quick but unhurried. When she finally pushed away from the keyboard and looked up, she said, “How’d you sleep?”

  “On my stomach.”

  “I meant, did you sleep?”

  “I think so.”

  “How’s the back?”

  “Actually a little less sore than my shoulders and arms.”

  “Your little ceiling walk was pretty impressive. A lot of people around here are talking about it.”

  He laughed a single grunt. “When the director calls, I’m going to make a suggestion that the next drop we use million-dollar bills.”

  “Do compliments embarrass you or are you just annoyingly modest?”

  “I’ve found people who have their heads turned by compliments have them turned by criticism.”

  “So you don’t want anyone to say anything to you.”

  “I’m sorry, I meant annoyingly modest.”

  Kate laughed. “Do you need some coffee?”

  “I’m good,” Vail said. “On the way up here, I checked the pen on Bertok’s phone. Nothing. What’s going on out at the tunnel?”

  “LAPD did find explosives at the entry hatch. And on a photocell trigger. C-4 packed with some of those two-inch nails they used to make the punji boards.”

  “That’s probably why it didn’t detonate when I set off the Claymore at the other end. Too far away. I don’t suppose they were considerate enough to leave any evidence.”

  “No latents, but we’re working on the boards and nails, trying the lumberyards around to see if someone ordered the pieces cut to those lengths. We’re also checking to see if there have been any recent thefts of Claymores or C-4.”

  “That would be a little too easy.”

  “They are an inconsiderate bunch,” Kate said. “I didn’t want to ask you last night, but what was it like in the tunnel?”

  “Dark, but enlightening.”

  “How very paradoxical,” she said playfully.

  “I was just going for cute.”

  “Enlightening, how?”

  “It’s interesting how much you can learn about an adversary when your life depends on anticipating his—or her—next move.”

  “Now, that’s cute.”

  Don Kaulcrick walked in, followed by the SAC and Allen Sabine, Bertok’s supervisor. Kaulcrick said, “The director hasn’t called yet?”

  “No,” Kate said.

  “I’m sorry, Steve, how are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine. How are you doing?”

  Kaulcrick forced a smile. “Other than being three million short for the week, I’m okay.”

  The phone rang and Kate pushed the speakerphone button. “Kate Bannon.”

  “Good morning, Kate,” Bob Lasker said.

  “I’ve got you on speakerphone, sir.”

  “Please tell me who else is in the room.”

  There was something insistent in the director’s voice that told her he wasn’t simply taking roll. She started with Vail and then listed everyone present in descending order of rank.

  Lasker said, “Steve, I called the hospital last night but you had already left. How’s the back?”

  “It’s superficial. I’m fine.”

  “That was an incredibly courageous thing you did.”

  “I’m not sure self-preservation is all that courageous.”

  “I’m too pleased to argue semantics. Let’s just say I’ve never been so impressed by self-preservation. Or happy to give away three million dollars. So someone bring me up to date on what’s going on out there. Let’s start with the tunnel.”

  The Los Angeles SAC spoke up, telling the director what the agents at the scene had found so far. He then filled him in on the minimal evidence that had been recovered and what the LAPD’s bomb squad had found.

  “Explosives, that’s new,” Lasker said. “Steve, do you think it has any significance?”

  “I think whoever is responsible for this is trying to keep us off balance. It keeps a pattern from forming. Patterns can be analyzed and eventually turned into names and addresses, and the Pentad has been very good at preventing that so far.”

  “Hopefully, the money being delivered means the end of the killing. Mark, tell me what else your agents are doing.”

  “Well, sir, we’re doing neighborhood investigations all around the tunnel. The group had to find and dig out those entrances. Hopefully someone saw them. We’re tracking down the kids who we’re told play in that lot regularly. We’re sending the punji boards back to the lab. Also we’re checking with the hardware stores and lumberyards in the area to see if anyone ordered boards cut to those specific lengths or a large quantity of the particular nails used.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got everything covered. Keep at it. Hopefully, now that they have the money, they’ll go on the run. Chasing people is our strength.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some headquarters business I need to discuss with Don and Kate. Steve, you may as well stay.”

  The SAC motioned to Sabine that they were leaving. Once the door closed, Kaulcrick said, “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you need anything—more manpower, lab services, anything?”

  “Right now there’s just not a lot to go on, so, no, we don’t need any help. When we get a break, I won’t be shy about asking.”

  The director didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “That’s not exactly encouraging, Don. I was hoping once we paid them, there would be leads. Steve, have you got anything on Bertok?”

  “We’re working on a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  Vail glanced at Kate. “Stuff,” he said, the reticence in his voice a warning.

  “Ooookay,” Lasker said, hesitating a few moments to consider the possible illegalities that were being kept from him. “Well, people, this is where we wanted to be. Without a threat of someone else being murdered. This is where I say, pull out all the stops and catch them. Are there any stops to pull out?”

  “I guess that depends on whether you want to reveal this to the media or not,” Kaulcrick said. “If you do, hopefully we can get the public back on our side.”

  “It’s not an easy call. With all the evidence against him, we know that Bertok is involved, but what we don’t know is whether he’s acted alone. Maybe there is a Pentad. Maybe it’s just one other person, but it could be ten. Nothing was ever said about us letting it out after they got the money. I don’t want to risk them using it as an excuse to start killing again. Later, if we’re getting nowhere, we can think about going public. I don’t know. Steve, what do you think?”

  Vail felt his phone vibrate. He looked down at the screen. “711” was typed in. It was the code he and Demick had agreed upon. Someone had called Bertok’s phone. “I’m sorry, sir, Kate and I have to go.”

  THIRTEEN

  WHEN VAIL AND KATE WALKED INTO THE TECH ROOM, TOM DEMICK was on the telephone, apparently with one of his contacts. He looked up and pointed at the pad of paper in front of him. A single phone number was written on it. “Yeah
, Tony, I appreciate it.” He wrote down an address. “Friday, right, and this time I’m buying…. Okay, but I’m buying the liquor.” He hung up and tore the sheet of paper off the pad. “The call to Bertok’s phone came from West Hollywood, a Laundromat, less than a mile from the subway tunnel.”

  “Hopefully it was him,” Vail said. “Not exactly a home address, but it’ll give us a place to start.”

  “Do you want me to go out there with you?” Demick asked.

  “Thanks, Tom, we’ll take care of it,” Vail said. “Can you get all the outgoing calls from the Laundromat phone for the last two weeks?”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem, but there’ll probably be a bunch. I should have them by the time you get there.”

  “For now, can we keep this between the three of us?” Vail asked.

  “The three of us?” Demick said. He leaned closer to Vail in mock confidence. “You do realize that one of us is a deputy assistant director. Who exactly are we keeping it secret from?”

  “Okay, let’s keep it between the two of us.”

  ONCE THEY WERE IN the car, Kate said, “I know you were kidding back there, but you don’t actually think I’d ever give you up, do you?”

  “I’m just passing through your career. You’d have to be a fool not to.”

  “Then I’m a fool.”

  “Right now we’re in a vacuum, operating with impunity. The director knows we’re doing something less than legal, and he says do whatever you have to do to protect the public. Breaking rules becomes noble, even heroic, so whatever I do, you’re on my side. But what if you’re suddenly standing in front of a federal grand jury and they ask you about committing illegal acts. And don’t think they’ll be concerned about the common good. Are you going to perjure yourself and risk prosecution?” When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “You’re not a fool.”

  “I am still on your side.”

  “I know you are, but the problem is only a fool can be just on my side. So sometime in the near future I may have to do something alone.”

  She stared ahead in silence. “Has that always been effective for you?”

  “What?”

  “When you feel yourself getting too close to someone, you treat them like they’re not worth your time.”

  “Unfortunately, that tactic doesn’t seem to work as well as it once did.”

  “I’m not amused.”

  Vail pulled to the curb. “This is the address.”

  When she still didn’t say anything, he said, “Isn’t one of my assets being able to break rules without anyone knowing, so everyone else can swear on a stack of Bibles? You can’t be in on all the good stuff while innocent of all the bad stuff, because the good and bad are usually inseparable.”

  “Okay, okay. It just seems like you’re a little too eager to keep everyone outside the great wall of Vail, and by ‘everyone’ I mean me.”

  He laughed. “You think too much of me. I’m no white knight. I do what I do mainly because I have a pathological need to settle all scores, and in spades. Take those two bank robbers. I had them disarmed and all but unconscious, but I threw both of them through the windows for good measure. Anyone who would do what they did to that poor old woman they threatened to shoot deserved a few moments of someone treating them without boundaries. So, yes, I do have issues.”

  “Meaning you’re blaming your father.”

  “I can blame him only for getting me started. I’m the one holding on to it. I guess I like the way it drives me.”

  “That’s your rationalization for not trusting anyone?”

  “I’ll tell you what, from now on I’ll do my best to trust you without reservation.”

  Kate knew how difficult a concession that was for him, how difficult any concession was for Steve Vail. “And I’ll do my best not to give you up to the federal grand jury,” she said.

  They both got out of the car and went inside. The place was empty. The only sound was from one of the dryers, which hummed as a load tumbled inside, a button occasionally clicking against the metal drum. Next to the folding table, two pay phones were mounted side by side on the wall. Vail checked the numbers and pointed at the one on the right. “This is the one used to call Bertok’s machine.” He took a step back and looked around. Kate sat down on one of the plastic chairs bolted to the floor and waited. Vail’s eyes finally went back to the tumbling dryer. “What time did Demick say that call was made?” he asked her.

  She glanced at her watch. “Almost two hours ago.”

  “The load in the dryer is large, and the way it sounds, it’s dry. Maybe its owner was here two hours ago. Let’s wait.” She waved her agreement, and he sat down.

  A couple of minutes later, the dryer snapped to a halt, and almost as if on cue, a customer pushed open the front door. A woman in her sixties, she walked carefully by Vail, giving him a suspicious glance. As she eased the dryer door open, he said, “Excuse me.” He stood up and drew his credentials, opening them for her inspection.

  “FBI? I’m washing clothes, not money.”

  Vail smiled appreciatively. “You’re pretty quick.” He could see how she would have been very attractive as a young woman. Mischief glinted in her eyes, and there was still a trace of Midwest in her speech, but not enough to tell on which side of the Mississippi it had been ingrained.

  “Do you like fast women, Agent Vail?”

  “What man doesn’t…?”

  “Anna.”

  He turned to Kate. “Do you have that photo?” She handed him Bertok’s credential photo and smiled at the woman. “Hi, I’m Kate Bannon.”

  “You’re FBI too?”

  “Actually, she’s my boss,” Vail said.

  She examined Kate’s face. “You have a good look. I mean photographically. The camera would love it. You have that skin that glows on film. Even that scar seems to work.” She leaned in toward Kate and, in a loud-enough whisper for Vail to hear, said, “The help looks pretty good. Hope you’re taking advantage of your position.” She leaned back and smiled at Vail, the idea of shocking him dancing in her eyes.

  “Unfortunately, she’s not,” Vail whispered back. He held up the photo of Bertok. “Have you seen this man in here today, Anna?”

  “You’re asking for my help? Maybe I should take advantage of my position.”

  “A good-looking woman like you, I’d be honored.”

  “You sound more like a casting director than a cop.” She took the photo and turned it, holding it up to the light. “I’m still too vain to carry my glasses.” She tilted it through a couple of more angles to catch the light before handing it back. “There was a guy in here making some phone calls, but he was pretty covered up, like the Unabomber. Sunglasses, baseball cap, hooded sweatshirt pulled over the hat and tied so you couldn’t even see the color of his hair.”

  “Any idea how old or tall?”

  “I’ve been around here long enough to know if a guy dresses like that, you’re safer watching his moves than trying to get his vital statistics. He was up to something; I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t me. Especially when he asked for change.”

  “How much did he need?” Kate asked.

  “Lots, I guess. He had to be making long-distance calls. First he holds up a hundred-dollar bill, so I get the impression he’s trying to see what I had in my purse. But it looked like there was something wrong with the bill. It looked kind of raggedy.”

  “Raggedy, how?” Vail asked.

  “I don’t know, kind of torn, not on the edges, in the middle.”

  “Like holes had been poked into it?”

  “The nails,” Kate said under her breath.

  The woman looked at Kate uncomprehendingly and then said, “Yeah, I guess it was holes, but it had to be bogus or something because then he says he’ll take twenty dollars for it so he can put it in the bill changer.” She pointed to the large silver box hanging on the wall at the other end of the laundry. “That’s when I knew it was a scam.”

&nbs
p; “Did you say he made the calls?”

  “Yeah. He takes the hundred and feeds it into the changer, so I knew it wasn’t real. I guess the machine read it as a twenty because about twenty bucks in quarters drops down.”

  “Then he made the calls?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you hear any of the conversation?”

  “No, the whole time he’s turned to the wall, mumbling.”

  “How many calls?”

  “I stopped paying attention. I don’t know, two or three, maybe. I don’t know.”

  “How long did they last?”

  “Not long. I’d be guessing less than a minute, I suppose,” the woman said.

  “Then he left?”

  “Yeah.”

  “In a car?”

  The mischief returned to her eyes. “Yes.”

  “Anna, you little minx, you know something.”

  “Yes,” she repeated. “Give me your best offer.”

  “My undying gratitude.”

  She put the last article of clothing in the basket. “You carry my basket out to the car, and I’ll tell you something about when he left.” Vail picked up her laundry. “He left in a car, a green midsize. Toyota or Honda, I can never tell them apart. Like I said, I knew he wasn’t right, so I watched him through the window. He drove down the block and pulled into that motel.” She walked over to the window and pointed.

  “You’ve been a big help, Anna. Let’s get you out to your car.”

  She took his arm formally, and as they walked out, she said, “This suit looks good on you, but do you know what you’d look even better in?”

  “No, what?”

  “My shower.” She looked back at Kate and said, “Sorry, doll, you snooze, you lose.”

  When Vail came back in, Kate asked, “Did you get her number?”

  “Hey, you never know. I might get a day off while we’re out here.”

  “You construction guys,” she said, shaking her head in feigned disgust. “I got ahold of Demick. He’s sending out an evidence team. You know what this means.”

  “Let me hear what you think it means.”

  She looked surprised that there might be different interpretations of what they had just learned. “If Bertok has the bills that were damaged during the three-million-dollar drop, he’s got to be the Pentad.”