by Webb Hubbell
Time seemed to stand still. She heard the sirens as if from another world. Within moments a DC swat team surrounded them. She watched as Jones conferred with a police captain.
“She saw them nod in agreement, and he returned to help her to her feet.
“We’re going to take the elevator downstairs, just you, me and a few of DC’s finest. Last chance to give me the name.”
He was laughing at her. She felt the old anger rise, couldn’t help it. She spit directly into his face. His grip on her arm tightened, but instead of punching her, he simply pulled a kerchief out of his pocket and mopped his face.
“Aw, gee, Tina—what was that about? I thought you were a professional.”
“You have no idea who I am.”
Surrounded by DC police, Clovis took her arm firmly.
“Sure I do. You’re Tina Lalas, Olympic champion in the Pentathlon, turned expert sniper and hired assassin. Number two on Interpol’s most wanted list, nicknamed the Greek Midge.”
With just a hint of a smile, she walked into the elevator. When the doors opened the silence of the elevator was shattered as a team from the FBI confronted them. Two guys in suits announced they were taking custody of Tina. Clovis didn’t much care what happened to Tina, so he crossed the street to meet Martin and Jack who were watching the proceedings with interest.
*****
“Clovis, Martin told me what almost happened. I know that woman. She works at Barker’s. I mean she’s the bartender, Barb Patton. She told me she had come over from Greece with her parents when she was a kid. She even tried to talk me into drinks, well, after hours. Now you tell me she’s a sniper? Maggie will never let me hear the end of this. Was she the one who took the shot on the Eastern Shore?” I knew I was babbling. Truth to tell, I was more than a little unnerved.
“Most certainly.” Martin responded as we watched from the lobby. “Think about it, Jack. Not too many people choose this line of work, and those who do are professional—how else could they look in the mirror every morning? Their work is impersonal, almost totally detached from any emotion. Yet most of them have their own trademark, sort of like a calling card: the weapon, or maybe the time of the day, the list goes on and on—some stamp of their personal existence. I worked my sources within the FBI and Interpol as soon as we returned that Saturday. Tina was near the top of known assassins who could have made that shot, and Interpol was pretty sure she had entered the country recently. I have no idea how she landed a job at Barker’s. The big break came Thursday when Clovis recognized her in the bar.”
I stared at Clovis. “You could have warned me: we could have gotten real friendly.”
Clovis interrupted. “Loosen up, Jack. Did you really think we’d let you stay at Barker’s all by yourself? You tend to get into mischief when you’re left alone too long. You’ve had protection inside this building since the moment you checked in.”
I wanted to be pissed, but thanks to these two, I was alive. Besides, he was right.
“So you know she tried for a hook-up a couple of nights ago?” I asked.
“Jack, I’m proud of the restraint you showed—a little surprised, but still proud.” Clovis snickered. I knew I deserved whatever they were willing to dish out.
“I wonder what would have happened if I’d opened the door to her ‘room service.’”
“You would have enjoyed the night together, that’s all. Her nickname is the ‘Greek Midge.’ She usually has sex with her targets at some point before she kills them.”
Didn’t sound like much fun to me.
“Okay, I’ll bite—what’s a midge?”
“A female midge sucks the blood from the male during copulation, causing his genitals to break off before he dies.”
“Well, that’s a bummer—sorry I asked.” I couldn’t help squirming a little. The prospect was particularly off-putting.
“Don’t worry, she’s not quite that bad. Her usual pattern is to sleep with her victim a few days before he meets an untimely death. She’s much too careful to have slept with you and then killed you inside Barker’s. She got sloppy this time. One has to wonder why.” Clovis said.
“What do you mean sloppy?”
Martin answered. “She got too comfortable at Barker’s, never realized we had men there. Once Clovis recognized her it was easy to follow her as she checked out locations for the hit.
“She seemed to settle on the apartment building Sunday morning, so we guessed the order had been given. We had the entire afternoon and evening to set up shop behind the condenser on the roof. Sure, she should have looked, but she’d gotten cocky.”
“How’d you get the police to cooperate?”
Martin answered. “I work with them every day; we have a pretty good relationship. The police are well aware of Tina. Remember, DC is a city full of prime targets. They were tickled pink to help put her out of commission without the failure of an assassination. But the locals will have a hard time keeping her in their custody. She’s a huge prize in the International Police community. You watch. The FBI will try to take credit for her apprehension, and the FBI almost always gets its way.”
“So why didn’t you warn me?”
Grinning, Martin responded. “Didn’t want to spook either you or Tina. You actually were lonesome, no acting necessary, and she thought she was safe. If she’d gotten suspicious, she would have realized we were onto her, and probably would have disappeared or, worse, taken the shot early.”
It all made sense, but I still felt like a twelve year-old who doesn’t think he needs a babysitter.
I looked across the street. The police had cuffed Barb and were holding her next to their patrol car. The officer in charge was arguing with the FBI.
“Well, I’m glad you were there and sure glad to be alive, so thank you.” I gave his arm a friendly punch and grinned. “Mind if I have a little fun?”
Clovis laughed. “The police have already agreed to get your statement later, so do whatever you feel like.”
I sauntered across the street and extended my hand to Agent Travis Barry.
“Agent Barry,” I smiled. “Jack Patterson. We met a week or so ago when you interviewed Marshall Fitzgerald. Small world isn’t it?”
Barry looked away, barely acknowledging my presence. I ignored the snub and turned to the DC policeman who appeared to be in charge. He took my outstretched hand immediately, looking pleased as punch.
“Officer, I understand you and your men have apprehended a dangerous international criminal, saving my life in the process. Thank you. I’ll make sure Captain Lanier knows how much I appreciate your efforts and your competence. Would you mind if I had a few words with your detainee?”
Now Barry turned to me and barked, “No, Patterson, you cannot have a few words with that woman. Who do you think…”
I raised a dismissive hand. “Okay, okay—I can see that you and this officer have more important things to manage right now. But before I leave, I have one question: Do you think Tina was involved in what happened last month at the Mayflower?”
Barry stuttered. “Wha…What do you mean, ‘what happened at the Mayflower?’”
“You know—Billy Hopper, the unidentified dead woman in his bedroom. Do you think Tina was responsible for her death?” The DC police were all ears.
He reddened and said coldly, “Absolutely not.”
I was tempted to push him further, but I’d made my point. Thanking him politely, I walked back across the street where Clovis and Martin were waiting.
“Jack, Agent Barry doesn’t seem to like you very much.” Martin deadpanned.
“No, Martin, he does not. Tell you what—I could use a Bloody Mary.”
63
WE ORDERED DRINKS downstairs at at Barker’s and settled into a nearby table. I asked if DC had enough clout to hold Tina for trial in District Court. Martin said she would probably be extradited to Europe. Her crime in DC was attempted murder at best; her crimes in Europe were far more numerous and substantial
. Moreover, Justice could use her extradition as a significant bargaining chip with Interpol.
“Let’s complicate their lives a little bit more. I’ll ask Maggie to prepare a subpoena for Tina. Let’s serve it with the others.” That got a laugh all around.
Fortified by a strong dose of vodka and tomato juice, we decided to get a late breakfast. I’d slept through breakfast this morning, and being a sniper’s target had made me hungry. We agreed on Southside 815, a bar in Alexandria that serves chicken fried steak and white gravy equal to any I’d in Arkansas. I hadn’t been in years. I called Maggie from the car, figuring it was better to deal with her wrath over the phone than in person. She cut me short before I could begin.
“It’s all right, Jack. Clovis already called; we can talk about it later. Stay away. Stella is throwing things in the conference room, but I think she’s making progress. I’m trying to make sense out of your ramblings of yesterday morning and put together what we’ll need tomorrow.”
“Anything from Micki or Beth?” I asked.
“Not a word. The pilot just landed at Hodges Air Center in Little Rock to pick up Marshall. They’ll be in Knoxville sometime this afternoon. Oh, and please tell Martin the press has figured out that you were the target of an international assassin. You might have to sneak in through the garage again. Enjoy your brunch. We have lots to do this afternoon.”
“Maybe a spontaneous press conference would loosen things up a little,” I mused.
“Jack, I understand your thinking, but you need evidence, you need proof. Give it time.” I knew she was right, but time was slipping away.
There was already a crowd at 815, but we found three seats at the bar. I ordered chicken fried steak, gravy, two eggs over easy, and hash browns, more than enough calories for the entire day. In my defense, I almost hadn’t lived to enjoy the day. While we ate, Clovis and Martin explained how they had worked with Barker’s from day one to ensure my safety. Apparently, Julius Barker had been as anxious to avoid any untoward publicity as he was for my safety. The recent revelation of Barb’s identity has shaken him to the core.
He’d been left hanging when Wally had to leave suddenly and was glad to find a quick replacement. In fact, a member who was part of the defense community had recommended her. As of today, the man was no longer a member.
I also learned that Clovis was almost obsessed with the Olympics, particularly the Pentathlon, and had followed Tina’s progress over the years. Apparently, a demanding and abusive coach had controlled her entire life. After she took the Silver for Greece, she tried to break away, but the coach went nuts and abused her physically. Rumor had it she snapped and dropped out of sight, turning up later in Europe, hardly recognizable, as the “Greek Midge.”
“What happened to the coach?” I asked.
“No one knows. One day he just disappeared.” Clovis said bluntly. “Rumors of what might have happened to him are both the subject of Greek legend and the origin of her nickname.”
“That’s bad.” I tried for a laugh, but couldn’t help but think of Barb the bartender. She just didn’t fit the image.
We tossed around ideas of how to use the morning’s events, but in the end decided to do nothing. For one thing, whoever had hired Barb/Tina was bound to know she’d been arrested. I was pretty sure he wasn’t sitting on his hands waiting for the next shoe to drop. We didn’t need to let our guard down.
We didn’t get back to the office until almost one. Both Stella and Maggie were hard at work. I let Clovis and Martin tell the story while I retreated to my office to return a call from Red Shaw. He had texted more than once: “Call ASAP.”
I had no idea what to expect. I hadn’t written him off my suspect list just yet, so I was more than a little uncomfortable.
Red continued to surprise me.
“Do you think that woman on the rooftop was the one who shot at you and Carol?”
“You know about that?”
“There isn’t much I don’t know. I make it my business. Carol called me, and I came to her place right after you left.”
I knew he’d been added to the guest list that weekend, but I hadn’t known that Carol had confided in him. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. Red must have sensed my discomfort.
“Listen Jack, Carol and I have been friends for a long time. I set her up in business and have been her biggest client and supporter for years. But my relationship is paternal and professional, nothing more. She confides in me as a daughter would to her father, so yes when you hightailed it out of there, she called me. She had to talk to someone.”
I had to take him at his word. “How is she?”
“She’s ready for you to join her, wherever the hell she is.”
“You don’t know?” I was astonished.
“Nope, only Pat knows. She says its better this way, and she’s probably right, but we’ve talked. That’s why I’m asking about the sniper. Now that she’s been arrested, do you think its safe for her to come back?”
The thought of Carol return was very appealing. But she left for a reason, and Barb’s arrest hadn’t changed that reason. She wasn’t the only gun for hire.
“I’d to love to say she’d be safe, but I can’t. She needs to stay put for a little while longer.” The words seemed to stick in my mouth.
“Exactly what I thought you’d say. Tell me how can I help?”
He was still on my list of suspects, but I needed information. “What can you tell me about Logan Aerospace and Chuck Morrison?”
I could almost hear him thinking.
“Logan is run by an executive committee of faceless, ruthless former army brass and CIA higher-ups. Morrison is basically a face man, nice guy but a glad-hander. They are my main competitors and did everything in their power to keep me from buying the Lobos. If they’re involved, you’re out of your league.
Out of my league? What the hell… I took a deep breath.
“Why do you ask?” he continued. “Did Carol tell you about the phone call she got from Logan that first weekend you were together?
“So that’s who called. She tried, but I was miffed, wasn’t buying.”
“So she said. Apparently they were unhappy with your unexpected appearance. I told her to drop them as a client; she didn’t need to be treated like trash.”
So it was Logan who had ruined my first weekend with Carol. Things were starting to make sense.
“Know anything about a group called L&A Marketing Advisors in Alexandria, Virginia? I don’t have an address, just a P.O. Box.” I decided to trust Red, at least for now—I needed information.
“Who are they and why do they matter?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
“Never heard of them, but I bet I can find out.”
“Thank you. Please tell Carol to be patient.” I added.
“Carol would tell you to forget all this, leave town, and join her on her beach. You didn’t ask for my opinion, but I’m going to give it to you anyway. She’s a keeper, Jack. Don’t blow it.”
“I know that. But I really do believe Billy Hopper’s innocent—I can’t just leave, and you know that.”
He said nothing, so I continued.
“Red, I have to ask: do you play Fantasy Football yourself? When you said you lost millions on Billy was it through fantasy sports? I mean, he was Rookie of the Year.”
I heard a sigh before he replied. “I knew something was eating at you. When I said I lost millions I was referring to the big money the team spent trying to offset the impression that pro football breeds men who abuse women. Gina can give you an itemized list of the money we spent on donations and commercials.”
“She doesn’t need to do that, and I’m sorry I had to ask.”
“Don’t ever hesitate to ask. But while we’re on the subject of fantasy football let me tell you that you’re right on target. The potential money for owners and athletes is enormous, the potential for abuse clear. A sure-handed receiver or any other hot-shot of the
moment drops an easy pass—you’ve gotta wonder why. The allure for fans is obvious: every wannabe or used to be athlete thinks he can win at fantasy football. The reality is few can resist the chance for easy money, but fewer still ever break even.
“I’ve been privately lobbying the owners to come up with some basic controls. Of course, we’ll need to get the Union’s consent, but I hope before the start of next season we’ll have a hard and fast rule that no ballplayer or employee of a team can own a fantasy account. We need to go further but it’s a beginning. Hell, Jack, since you asked I might make you my front man on this issue. You used to play ball. My biggest worry is that some government busybody or aspiring politician, who never played the game, will use fantasy sports as a reason to tell me how to operate my business. Get Billy out of jail; then you and I can talk about it.”
I told him I looked forward to it.
I hung up feeling much better about Red. I sure hoped I wasn’t misreading him, but I was running out of time and had to trust someone.
In this case, the attempt to set up Billy was too sophisticated to be the work of someone who’d simply lost a pile of money betting on the wrong guy. But I could see how fantasy football could put real players of the game in significant danger from irate gamblers and fantasy game players—owners would have to up the security they already provided. The issues and temptations were even more complicated than I’d realized.
I left my office and found the others clustered around Maggie’s desk.
“What’s up?”
Stella began, “First, the bad news. Someone broke into the office last night. They didn’t take anything as far as we can tell and weren’t able to access the computers, but they were looking for something.”
“Trash?” I asked.
“I shredded everything last night before we left. The only copy of your memo is still on the computer, no hard copies have been printed yet. Same with the subpoenas.” Maggie said.