by Dee Davis
Just at the moment, she wasn’t as sure. Payton had jump-started emotions she’d thought dead and buried, and she wasn’t certain what would happen if she allowed them to develop. So she needed to think long and hard about the costs of allowing herself to become any more involved with him. And the best way she knew to clear her head was to go to work.
Harrison looked up from his computer console as she passed. “How’d things go with Ruckland’s man?”
Sam pulled her thoughts away from Payton, thinking instead about the meeting with Sloane. “Interesting twist. It seems there was a fourth senator. Bud Walker from New Mexico.”
“He was in on the pork?” Harrison frowned.
“More like he wanted to be in on it. He’s the reason the other three panicked. To hear Sloane tell it, Walker wanted in on the deal, and Ruckland was saying no.”
“And Walker wasn’t taking it gracefully, I assume.”
“Something like that. Gabe is going to talk to Cullen about how best to approach Walker. I’m hoping we’ll head that way tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Harrison said.
“Did the NRT photos arrive of the McLean fragments?”
“Better than that. The fragment is here. Seems they decided to put a rush on it and sent it via courier.” Harrison sounded more put out about the fact than excited.
“And you’re not happy about it?” Sam queried.
“Well, I’m delighted that the frag is here, but I didn’t get the chance to look at it. The courier turns out to be an NRT flunky by the name of Elliot Drummond. And Elliot won’t release the fragment to anyone but you.”
“He’s not a flunky.” Sam smiled. “He’s a friend. I used to work with him at the Bureau. We were on ERT together.”
“Well he still could have let me look at the frag,” Harrison said.
Sam shrugged. “He’s cautious.” An understatement actually. Elliot was a by-the-book sort. Everything in its proper place and time. If he’d been told to release the fragment to Sam, that’s exactly what he would do.
“Where is he?”
“In there.” Harrison tipped his head toward the lab, his attention back on his computer.
Sam turned and walked into the conference room, almost running down the tall, lanky man hovering in the doorway. “Elliot. My God, it’s been forever.” She reached up to hug him, surprised when he didn’t immediately respond. Pulling back, she searched his face, the lines and shadows there making him seem much older. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired. Ziggy’s got us burning the candle at both ends.”
Carl Ziegler had taken over ERT when Walter Atherton had been promoted. The man was as good as it got when it came to hazardous device forensics, but he was also a hell of a taskmaster. “Nothing ever changes.”
“You look good.” He smiled, the action lightening his features. “But then working under pressure was always your preferred methodology.”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “A little less intensity might be nice. You’ve got the fragment?”
“Right here.” He held out a plastic bag, the gray metal inside shining in the fluorescent light.
“I think you hurt Harrison’s feelings. He really did want to see it.”
Elliot’s smile broadened, mischief cresting in his eyes. “I was told to put it directly into your hands.”
Sam laughed, and took the bag. “All right then, consider your mission accomplished.” They walked into the lab, and over to the microscope. “Can you stay?”
“Not for long.” Elliot shot a surreptitious look at his watch. “Ziggy was adamant about my getting back ASAP.”
“Can’t live without you?” Sam said, sliding the fragment out of the evidence bag.
“Yeah, right.” Elliot’s laugh held a note of bitterness. “More likely he just wants to be sure I’m not using this trip as an excuse to get out of work.”
Sam looked up at him, trying to read between the lines. “You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”
He shook his head, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze. “Just too much time in the lab. Sorry. Did I hear you say something about Senator Walker?” It was an obvious change of subject, but Sam didn’t want to push.
“Yeah. One of Ruckland’s aides says he was in bed with the senators.”
“So you’re thinking Walker could be behind all of this?”
“I haven’t formed an opinion, yet. But we need to talk to the man. He’s part of the chain of evidence.”
“Makes sense.” Elliot pulled his stool closer as she flipped the fragment, situating it so that the inside was facing up. “So what are you looking for?”
“There was a symbol etched into a fragment of an end cap from the San Antonio bomb.” She focused the microscope and began to methodically search the twisted piece of metal. “If I can find the symbol on this end cap fragment, it will definitively tie the two explosions together.”
“But I thought we already knew they were connected.” His brow wrinkled in concentration. “I mean Atherton was heading up the investigation for the FBI. And the similarity between the two bombings is significant.”
“On the face of it, I’d have to agree, but you know as well as I do that commonality of technique alone isn’t enough to establish a credible link—at least not one that will hold up in court. And I want to nail this bastard for what he did to Walter.”
“Amen to that,” Elliot said, moving closer. “Atherton was a stand-up guy. I think everyone in the Bureau wants a piece of the man who did this.”
“So we have to build an airtight case,” she said, and turned back to the microscope, moving the fragment in a circular pattern, stopping when she found the indentation she was looking for. Her heart rate accelerated with the discovery, and she increased the magnification accordingly. The edges of the Tai came clear, the image an exact copy of the one they’d found in San Antonio.
“You got it?”
Sam nodded, distracted by the implications of what she’d found.
“Can I look?” Elliot was already standing behind her, ready to take her place at the eyepiece.
“Sure.” She moved off the stool. “Have at it.”
“It’s the Tai Chi,” Elliot said, staring down at the fragment. “Is this what you found in San Antonio?”
“Yeah.” Sam nodded, chewing on her lip. “It’s got to have some kind of significance for the bomber. But I don’t know what.”
“Maybe he considers himself the diametric half of something? You know, like good versus evil.”
The thought had occurred to her as well, although she couldn’t see how it related to the senators, but then sometimes patterns were so obvious it was possible to miss them amid all the details.
“You found it.” Payton’s voice danced along her spine, sending inward tremors of something she wasn’t certain she wanted to identify. As usual he’d managed to arrive without a sound.
“Yeah.” She smiled up at him triumphantly. “No idea what it means, but we’ve definitely got a match. Did you reach your contact?”
Payton nodded, then shot a questioning look at Elliot still looking through the microscope.
“He’s a friend,” Sam said, ushering Payton into the conference room. “We worked together on ERT. He came with the fragment. So what’d you find out?”
“There’s no record of any terrorist group relating to the Tai. There are a couple that could be attached to the concept if you really stretch things, but they aren’t involved with anything that would connect to the senators.” He was standing so close to her, she could feel the rhythm of his breathing. The proximity was intoxicating.
“So there’s no talk out there of outside involvement?”
“Not on the international front. General consensus was that if this was the work of terrorists, they’d have taken credit for it. And if it was about foreign trade, someone I know would have gotten wind of it.”
“So we have nothing.” She swallowed
her disappointment.
“Actually, I think you have to look at it as a process of elimination. My sources just confirmed what you already suspected. That this is the work of an individual.”
“Except that we still don’t have any idea why he’s doing this.”
“Something to do with the Tai.” Elliot was standing in the doorway. “Maybe Senator Walker will be able to make the connection. You’re going to see him tomorrow?”
Payton shot Elliot a pointed glance, and he actually took a step backward.
“I, ah, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You’re fine.” Sam smiled at Elliot, shooting a frown in Payton’s direction. “We were just talking about it.” She turned her attention back to Payton, her expression pointed.
“We’re going tomorrow evening,” Payton said, accepting Elliot’s presence without further comment. “I just got word from Gabe. It seems the illustrious senator is a bit pressed for time. He’s in the middle of a reelection campaign. But his aides arranged for us to see him after tomorrow’s fund-raiser in Albuquerque.”
Sam’s stomach lurched at the thought of going to New Mexico. Her mother would no doubt be delighted to see her daughter, but Sam wasn’t exactly sure she was in the mood for her mother’s scrutiny.
Elliot cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’ve got to be going.”
“So soon?” Sam pulled out of her thoughts, wishing he could stay. It was nice to have someone here that she had history with.
“No rest for the weary.” He shrugged. “My flight leaves in an hour.”
“It was great seeing you.” She reached out to take his hands, and he pulled her into a bear hug.
“Be careful, Sam,” Elliot whispered. “Watch your back.”
The last was a standard phrase. Something she’d said a million times, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Elliot was trying to say something more. He released her, and she searched his eyes for explanation, but there was nothing there.
“I’ll see you on the flipside.” His smile included them both, and with a casual wave he headed through the door.
“Looks like the two of you were pretty cozy,” Payton said, his eyes narrowing in thought.
“We were good friends once. But it was a long time ago.” She sighed, dismissing Elliot from her mind. There were more pressing issues.
Payton laid his hands on her shoulders, his palms warm through the thin fabric of her shirt. “You look tired.”
“I am,” she sighed. “We’ve been at this nonstop. And there’s no end in sight.” Their gazes met and held, and her heart started pounding. Lord, just standing close to him set all her nerves on edge.
He reached out to push a strand of hair behind her ear, the gesture somehow more intimate than a kiss. “Sounds like you could use some rest. Maybe we ought to go back to the hotel.”
She wanted to say yes, to throw herself in his arms and damn the consequences. Just the idea of him moving inside her making her weak at the knees. But there were photographs to examine, and Harrison’s cases to discuss.
She couldn’t just abandon it all for pleasure.
As if she’d conjured him up, Harrison walked into the conference room, and Sam sprang back guiltily, more than aware that both men smiled in response.
“Elliot certainly left in a hurry,” Harrison said, his mouth still quirking with amusement.
“He had a plane to catch.” Payton shrugged.
“I’m sorry he couldn’t have stayed longer,” Sam said, pushing her hair out of her face. “But he did give me food for thought.”
Payton and Harrison both looked at her expectantly.
“It’s not a burst of brilliance or anything, but he mentioned the fact that maybe the bomber sees the Tai as a link between good and evil.”
“So what?” Harrison asked. “He’s evil?”
“Or maybe he thinks he’s good. There are a lot of people who believe that government is evil. Maybe he believed stopping the senators was part of the pattern. That he was counteracting their bad deeds with something good.”
“Their destruction?” Harrison was frowning, trying to think it through. “That seems a little harsh.”
“It’s a cruel world,” Payton mused. “And sometimes the greatest good is only achieved by force. The central idea of the Tai is that everything has an opposing force and that together the two forces are part of a greater whole. So maybe our guy views himself as the righteous half of the political circle.”
“Government versus the bomber?” Harrison quipped.
“More likely government versus the people,” Sam mused. “Maybe he sees himself as an avenger.”
“But that doesn’t explain Atherton’s death.”
“He was in the way?” Harrison sat down on the corner of the table. “Or maybe he was connected to the senators in some way we haven’t discovered yet.”
“Which is why we need to get back to work.” The electric tension between her and Payton hadn’t dispersed, but it had lessened. And for the moment, she was determined to ignore it.
“We’re at your command.” Payton’s smile was limited to his mouth. His eyes flashed a completely different message, a promise of things to come. And despite herself, Sam shivered in anticipation.
ELLIOT DRUMMOND stepped out of his rental car into the humid Texas night. It hadn’t been easy to find this place. His instructions hadn’t mentioned the fact that there were two Spicewood Springs Roads. It was only by sheer luck that he’d found the older one. And even after finding the road, he’d almost missed the park entrance, the parking lot no more than a rough graveled area surrounded by a hewn log fence.
The other car in the parking lot fit the description he’d been given, and he pulled out the photocopies he’d made. There wasn’t much, but he hoped, coupled with the information he’d managed to glean from Sam, he’d have enough to earn his money.
A shadow detached itself from the fence. A wiry man wearing jeans, boots, a denim jacket and baseball cap moved into the lamplight. It seemed awfully hot to be wearing a coat, but Elliot figured it fit the image of a Texan to a T. The brim of the man’s hat kept his face in shadows, but Elliot could see the line of his jaw, and the stubble of his beard.
“You don’t look like a reporter.” He was surprised at how shaky his voice sounded. And immediately cleared his throat in an effort to sound more authoritative. The man had been clear on the phone. No information, no money. And Elliot needed money.
Badly.
“What exactly am I supposed to look like?” The man laughed, the sound hollow in the stifling heat of the parking lot. They were deep in a canyon cut by a meandering stream, trees hanging heavy on both sides of them, the dark threatening even the streetlight. “You got something for me?” The reporter moved across the gravel and stopped by the trunk of Elliot’s car, waiting.
“I have a file here. And some things that I heard. You have any proof you’re who you say you are?”
“A duffelbag full of Ben Franklins.” The reporter lifted the bag in testament to the fact, and Elliot’s jaw dropped. A hundred thousand dollars would solve a hell of a lot of problems, and get his bookie off his back once and for all.
He smiled at the man and held out the file. “I made some copies from her files. I didn’t get as much as I’d have liked. She interrupted.”
The reporter reached for the file and just missed the edge. The papers fluttered to the ground, and with a curse the man bent to retrieve them before they were lost in the dark.
Elliot didn’t offer to help. Somehow that was going too far. So he watched as the man crawled under the car to get the most elusive piece, trying to contain his guilt. It wasn’t as if he was really hurting anyone. So the information hit the news a bit sooner than anticipated—in the end it wouldn’t really change things.
At least he hoped not.
The man stuffed the last of the papers into the file, and pushed back to a standing position. “What else you got?”
El
liot could see his eyes glittering beneath the cap. “Give me the money first.”
The man shook his head. “Information, then money. That’s the deal.”
Elliot swallowed nervously, then nodded. “I don’t know if it matters but they’ve isolated some kind of symbol on fragments from both bombs. Some Chinese thing. Yin and yang.”
The guy seemed to absorb the information with only minimal interest, and Elliot felt his stomach sink. Maybe he didn’t have enough. “There’s one more thing.”
The man crossed his arms, the file still in his hand, waiting.
“They think there may be a link to a senator in New Mexico. Bud Walker. They’re going to talk to him. Something about a fund-raiser.”
“When?” The man had gone still, his interest apparent, and Elliot sighed with relief.
“Tomorrow night. They’re meeting with him afterward.”
“Who?”
“Sam and Payton—at least I think that was his name. Someone named Gabe is sending them.”
The man nodded, clearly contemplating the information.
“Is it…is it enough?” Elliot said, the silence getting to him.
The reporter jerked his head at the sound of Elliot’s voice, his face still in shadow. “Yeah. Here, take the money.”
Elliot grabbed the bag, and tossed it into the back seat through the open window. All he wanted now was to get the hell out of here.
“You’re not going to count it?” The guy seemed to be goading him. As if he knew that Elliot wasn’t up to handling this kind of thing.
Elliot narrowed his eyes, trying to imitate Payton’s piercing gaze. “I don’t need to.” He tried to keep his voice flip, but to his dismay, it cracked instead.
The reporter’s mouth quirked at the corner, and then he shrugged. “Nice doing business with you.” Without waiting for a response, he headed for his car.
Before the man could even open his door, Elliot had the key in the ignition, his car’s engine jumping to life. With a peel of rubber on gravel, he pulled back out onto Spicewood Springs Road. Euphoria made him feel reckless, and he pressed his foot to the pedal, delighted when he saw the reporter’s car turn in the opposite direction.