Still stunned by the news, Matt managed to exchange pleasantries with the manager before heading off to call Keith. He wondered if Keith knew that the arrangements had been finalized, or if this would be a shock to him too.
Chapter 21
Keith sat at Matt’s kitchen table examining the agreement with the Florida Marlins. For several reasons, he had been given the assignment to negotiate Matt’s contract. Like many other agents in the FBI, he held a law degree. In addition, he was one of a select few that knew CJ’s current location.
Biting into a piece of the pizza that Matt had ordered, Keith read through the last page of the contract. The deal was perfect, or as close to perfect as Keith thought he could manage, especially since he hadn’t worked with this type of contract in several years. The five-year agreement gave Matt job security, relocated him to Miami, and would earn him a generous salary.
“What are we going to do?” Matt asked, breaking into Keith’s thoughts. “How can I move to Miami if CJ is there?”
“It isn’t as bad as it seems,” Keith replied. “Several teams were interested in trading for you. I basically just set up your demands to suit the Marlins and discourage other teams from pursuing you.”
“What do you mean?” Matt fiddled with the cap on his water bottle.
“Florida was burned a couple of times last year when contracts came up for renewal and players they wanted to keep either chose to go elsewhere or demanded so much money they couldn’t afford to keep them. Because of that, I guessed that they would jump at a five-year deal, especially since you can play more than one position.” Keith shrugged. “I knew that most teams wouldn’t go for a longer-term contract since you haven’t been in the league that long.”
“I still don’t understand how this helps us.”
“Because we didn’t go out and approach only Florida, no one should suspect that this is exactly where you wanted to go,” Keith explained. “If Malloy or Rush has anyone watching you, they are more likely to look for CJ in California where you were seen with her, or here in Philadelphia.”
“I hope you’re right,” Matt said, exhaling slowly.
“Either way, I set you up in an apartment in Broward County to start with. The FBI and the Marshals will reevaluate our security plans for CJ as soon as Rush’s trial is over. At that point, we’ll see what arrangements can be made for you and CJ.”
“I just wish you could find Malloy.”
“Don’t we all.”
* * *
As CJ approached the pool, she ran her fingers through her chin-length hair. While the publicity about Matt and her had been bad in Los Angeles, the articles had mostly been limited to the LA papers. The main threat to CJ in Miami was the tabloids that popped up on occasion and the photos floating around on the Internet. In case someone in Miami did take notice of the trashy photos, CJ had gotten a haircut, and she expected that her new look would keep anyone from recognizing her as the woman with Matt Whitmore. At the insistence of Tara and Lacey, CJ had severely limited her appearances in public, so she doubted it would matter anyway.
Pete walked toward her, his coaching briefcase slung over his shoulder. “Well, I have some good news and some bad news.”
“I’ve already had enough bad news for the year,” CJ informed him. “Why don’t you just tell me about the good news and we’ll forget about the bad news for today.”
Ignoring her, Pete pulled a file out of his bag. “I looked up the results from all of the meets for last weekend. Looking at your competition worldwide, you have a decent shot at a medal in the 200 breaststroke.”
“I assume that’s the good news.”
Pete shrugged. “Unfortunately, the best woman in the event is also American.”
“Bridget Bannon,” CJ stated with resignation in her voice. “What about the 200 IM?”
“The competition is tighter for you there. Getting to the finals will be a challenge, but if you can make it there, you have a shot. The good news is that I have you as the top 100 breaststroker in the States, which means you should be able to claim the medley relay spot.”
“If I can qualify,” CJ sighed.
“I think I’ve worked that one out.” Pete handed her a meet application sheet. “This meet is in North Carolina in two weeks.”
“That’s only a few days before I have to testify at Rush’s trial,” CJ explained. “Isn’t there a meet a week or two later? Maybe then I wouldn’t be such a target.”
“This is the best choice.” Pete handed her a meet schedule. “All the other possible meets you could use are in LA, Baltimore, or Europe.”
CJ’s eyes brightened at the mention of Europe.
Before she could say anything, Pete cut her off. “No, we are not going to Europe.”
“Oh, come on Pete.” CJ pointed at the schedule. “There’s one here that’s a week after I testify. It’s perfect.”
“Nice try, kiddo.” Pete shook his head. “You would lose too much practice time, and your body wouldn’t have enough time to adjust to the time change before you would compete.”
“I assume LA is out because of the media attention,” CJ guessed.
Pete nodded. “And Baltimore is out because your old team will be there.”
“Then I guess we’re going to North Carolina.”
* * *
Doug Valdez stared at the television monitor in front of him, wondering how long he had been sitting in the airport security office. He still couldn’t believe the news Toblin had given him just that morning. Malloy’s last confirmed location was Miami.
Though his first instinct had been to pull CJ from the house in Coral Gables and relocate her to the Midwest somewhere, he reconsidered when he realized that she was probably safer staying where she was. Any move this close to the trial would require bringing in extra personnel, and Doug wasn’t about to let anyone new near CJ.
The security tapes from the Miami airport were logged by date, time, and location. Already Doug had watched countless hours of the tapes, trying to find out when Malloy had left the airport and where he had gone. He knew there had to be something on these tapes that would help him find the man that had been eluding him for the past three years.
“I don’t see him near any of the exits,” Doug told the security chief for the airport. “Let’s go back to where he exited the plane and see if we can track his movements that way.”
The man nodded, retrieving two tapes. “This one would pick him up if he headed for baggage claim, and that one goes the other direction.”
“Let’s see what we can find.” Doug settled back in his seat as the first tape was loaded.
Four hours later, Doug finally found his answer. Malloy had gone to baggage claim only to blend in with the other passengers. He must have tucked himself into a blind spot, because the cameras didn’t pick him up for over an hour when he finally left the baggage claim area. He was then sighted moving toward a ticket counter.
Through painstaking work, Doug came to realize that Malloy wasn’t in Miami after all. Rather, he had just been there for a very long layover. The camera that picked him up in the gate area only had a partial view of the waiting area. Only one airline flew out of the three gates he could have accessed, and with some help from the airline personnel, Doug was able to narrow down the possibilities.
Of the three gates, only two had flights leaving around the time that Malloy finally disappeared from their sight for good. One went to the Cayman Islands, and the other went to Curacao. The airlines informed him that the flight to Grand Cayman had not offered any connections that particular night. However, the flight to Curacao had two connections that left before the airport closed that night. One was to Bonaire, and the other was to Aruba.
Though his work day should have ended hours earlier, Doug went back to his office and pulled out a number for Interpol. If he could give them the dates and times, he hoped they could use the same method of scanning surveillance tapes to help him locate Malloy.
*
* *
“I can’t believe Doug is really going to let me try again.” CJ shifted in the backseat of the rental car and watched Pete look over the meet information. They had flown into Charlotte the night before from the Southwest Florida Airport. CJ didn’t know why Doug wouldn’t let them fly out of Miami, but after he had relocated her to such an incredible house, she doubted he could do much at this point to surprise her.
“I can be persuasive when I want to be,” Pete told her, not looking up. “Besides, you’re only going to be at the meet for about two minutes.”
“Excuse me?”
Before Pete could respond, Tara looked back at them. “We’re here.”
CJ looked up to see that Lacey had pulled into the parking lot of a country club. “What are we doing here?”
“Warming up,” Pete told her. “The FBI has an agent doubling for you at the meet. She will help us time it right so that you get to the meet just in time to walk in, step up on the blocks, swim the breaststroke, preferably in under a minute ten, and get back in the car. Then we’ll come back here so you can cool down.”
“You were serious.” CJ shook her head in amazement. “I really will be there for about two minutes.”
“That’s the plan.” Pete pointed at a gate on the side of the clubhouse. “Now let’s get going. We have a timetable to keep.”
The timing was perfect. CJ finished her warm-up with five minutes to spare, and they had already arrived in the parking lot when the signal came that her heat was coming up. Pete went into the meet first and claimed a spot on deck while CJ prepared for her race. When the heat before hers started, Lacey and Tara escorted her to the block.
CJ positioned her goggles, stepped up on the blocks, and an instant later was in the water swimming her favorite event. She started out in front and stayed there, each stroke giving her a little more distance from the other swimmers. When she hit the timing pad, she looked up at the scoreboard and stared. Next to her name it read 1:08.06. She had qualified with over four seconds to spare.
Tara didn’t give her time to revel in her success, instead handing her a towel as she climbed out of the pool and then guiding her out to the parking lot. As soon as CJ was in the car, Lacey drove the car away.
“What about Pete?” CJ asked, surprised they were leaving him behind.
“He needs to get your proof of time. We have a car waiting for him, and he’ll meet us back at the hotel,” Tara said.
They went back to the country club, where CJ took her time in the water. When she finished cooling down, they drove to the hotel. She was just unlocking the door to her room when Tara’s phone rang.
The conversation was brief, lasting only long enough for CJ to walk into her room and drop her things on the bed, but as soon as Tara hung up she turned to CJ. “I don’t have time to explain but we only have five minutes to change and pack.”
Before CJ could ask why, Tara left the room. Worried that something was wrong, CJ changed her clothes and stuffed her wet towel and swimsuit into a bag.
No explanations were offered as she was rushed off to the train station, and she quickly realized that Tara and Lacey didn’t know much more than she did. Once on the train, Lacey led her and Tara to a sleeping compartment. He and Tara checked it out, as well as the adjoining compartment where Lacey and Pete would stay the night. As soon as they were satisfied, Lacey motioned CJ inside.
“Why don’t you two wait here, and Pete and I’ll go get us some dinner?” Lacey suggested.
“That would be great,” CJ agreed, sitting down on what would be her bed that night. “I’m starving.”
Tara pulled the door closed and sat across from her. “I hope they remember dessert.”
“Don’t count on it if Pete chooses the menu.” CJ felt the train start forward. “Now that we’re moving, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m still not sure,” Tara admitted. “I just know that there was a security breach at the airport, and Doug wanted you out of town just in case it was someone looking for you.”
“What kind of security breach?”
“I don’t know. Today we’re just following orders.” Tara leaned back. “I have to admit, I’m glad that you’re done with swim meets for a while. This is just way too stressful.”
“You’re telling me,” CJ agreed, thinking of the Olympic trials that were only four weeks away.
Chapter 22
This was the day—the day CJ had both looked forward to and dreaded for so long. Tara stood by the hotel room window, watching the movement on the street below. Outside the door, two more U.S. Marshals stood guard. Rush’s trial had started nearly three weeks earlier, and CJ would be the final witness for the prosecution.
Suddenly, Tara turned from the window. “Let’s move.”
CJ moved toward the door, quickly surrounded by those determined to protect her. They rode the elevator to the underground parking garage and then climbed into an unmarked car. To her left, CJ could see a similar car pulling out of the parking garage, flanked by two police cars.
As though reading her thoughts, Tara nodded to the other vehicles. “If someone tries for you, hopefully they’ll go for the decoy.”
CJ took a deep breath, praying that Rush’s men wouldn’t succeed in hurting her or anyone else. Already he had destroyed so many lives, and CJ knew his men would not hesitate to kill in order to further his evil designs. The marshals and CJ waited in the parking lot until the marshals received the signal that it was safe to leave. Fifteen minutes later, they entered the courthouse.
Nerves fluttered in CJ’s stomach as she was led into the courtroom. The heels of her shoes clicked on the tile floor as the young bailiff led her to the stand. Even though CJ tried to school her eyes away from Rush, she couldn’t help looking over to the defense’s side of the courtroom.
She remembered the first time she had met this man. Matt had introduced her to Judge Chris Rush at a brunch his parents had hosted. Rush and his wife had chatted companionably with her and Matt, and everything in the judge’s behavior had suggested that he was the good friend Matt’s parents believed him to be.
Looking at him now, CJ wondered if she would ever be able to forget his face and what he had put her through. The former judge had changed significantly, his polished persona and air of wealth and stature apparently worn away by his time spent in prison. Yet, despite the gray hair and pallor of his skin, CJ remembered well what the man in front of her was capable of.
For three years, Rush had sat in prison awaiting trial for an assortment of crimes including conspiracy, murder, and smuggling. Shortly after he was arrested, bail had been denied because he had tried to flee the country and had the means to attempt to do so again. Rush had then used the legal system to his advantage by delaying his own trial in an effort to allow his stooges to eliminate the witnesses against him. Originally the government had expected CJ to testify within twelve to eighteen months after Rush’s arrest, rather than three years.
Rush looked up and returned CJ’s stare, and she shuddered. He didn’t look like an evil man, but she knew better. The organization he headed had been nothing short of ruthless. Anyone who threatened its success was eliminated. Standard operating policy.
Three years ago, Chase had been the greatest threat Rush’s organization had ever faced. The knowledge he had gained working undercover had cost him his life. His few dying words had given CJ the pieces to the puzzle to ultimately identify Rush as the criminal he truly was. Chase had been her dearest friend, and she owed it to him to make his efforts pay off.
CJ swallowed hard, barely hearing the words as she was sworn in until the final phrase, “so help you God.” She took a deep breath, saying a silent prayer as she took her seat. The bailiff that had escorted her now stood a few feet away on the side of the courtroom. Another bailiff, slightly older and rounder, stood in front of the double doors that led to the hallway. The judge had apparently seen the wisdom in ordering a closed courtroom, and the only peop
le in the spectator seats were two federal marshals. In front of them were the prosecuting attorneys on one side, and Rush and his defense team on the other.
CJ answered the prosecutor’s questions easily, as she was well rehearsed from testifying in previous trials. The proceedings rested for lunch before the defense was permitted to begin their cross-examination. CJ answered the defense attorney’s first few questions easily enough, but when he began asking her about Chase’s final words, her throat closed up as she tried to fight back her emotions.
“Miss Jones, you testified earlier that Chase’s final words were ‘Chris Rush. Don’t let him find you.’ Is that correct?”
“Yes.” CJ nodded.
“Did Chase ever call you by the name Chris?”
CJ struggled not to let memories of Chase’s death overwhelm her. “Sometimes.”
“Isn’t it possible that he was simply calling you by name, telling you to hurry and hide?”
“That is what I thought at first, but . . .”
“Just answer the question,” the attorney snapped.
“At one time, I did believe that was his meaning,” CJ replied, fighting to keep her voice even. She knew that the prosecutors would have a chance to redirect, and she looked forward to clarifying that she had also seen Christopher Rush’s name on the organizational chart at Chase’s apartment.
Throughout the afternoon, the defense attorneys continued to try to distort CJ’s testimony. They were good, but even with their attempts to discredit CJ, they were unable to damage her credibility or cover up the truth through their cross-examination.
Finally, after several hours of testimony, cross-examination, and redirect, CJ was escorted out of the courtroom by two U.S. Marshals.
The Deep End Page 17