by DB Carpenter
Lasu went over to a cabinet and removed a vial. Then he filled a hypodermic needle with the contents, flicked the air bubbles out and then injected it into one of Pell's IV lines. Then he checked Pell's vitals on one of the machines.
"That should bring him around," the doctor said.
"Good," Arthur said. "How long will it take?"
"No more than fifteen minutes," the doctor replied.
"Excellent, we'll take it from here," Carl said.
"After what happened yesterday, we'll wait here with you," doctor Epstein said. "And, when you do speak with him, you will treat him with respect. I won't have any brutal interrogations here, and if for one minute I think that you –"
"Yesterday was unfortunate. It was the heat of the moment but I understand and appreciate your request. I will be the only one speaking with agent Pelletier and I won't touch him. You have my word," Arthur said. "But I do want to be alone with him when he comes around."
"Okay. But we'll stay until he is almost awake," the doctor said.
All of them turned their attention to their mobile devices to relieve the awkwardness. Arthur was skimming his emails but his mind was clearly here, in the present and preparing for the conversation with Pell.
Lasu was diligently monitoring the equipment and he called the doctor over after ten minutes or so and the two men had a brief, quiet conversation.
"He's coming around," the doctor said.
"Excellent," replied Arthur as he pocketed his phone. "I'll take it from here."
"Remember what I said about your interrogation technique," the doctor said. Arthur looked at the man for a long moment and then nodded.
All the men started to leave except Carl.
"One more thing, doctors," Arthur said.
"What?" Dr. Epstein replied.
"You wouldn't tell anyone about what he might know, right?"
Both men shook their heads. Lasu couldn't make eye contact – a bad sign.
"Good," Arthur said, excusing them with a wave of his hand.
Doctor Epstein strode off down the corridor, white jacket flying out behind him and intern trotting to keep up. Carl was left standing alone next to Arthur.
"You can go, Carl," Arthur said. He was like an annoying, clinging puppy dog sometimes.
Carl shifted on his feet looking uncomfortable. "Are you sure? It might –"
"I'm all set."
"If you need anything," Carl said as he left the room.
Arthur sat down again in the chair. He had become a master of interrogation over the years. The secret to successful questioning lay in how the questions were presented. Sometimes you just had to beat it out of people. All of that liberal spew about torture being ineffective was wrong. It worked on the vast majority of people, but most of the time, if you fully and honestly apprised them of their options and asked them courteous and, most importantly, direct questions, you'd get what you wanted. It was like playing chess. Timing and thinking ahead three or four or thirty questions. And, of course, there was always the presentation factor – that was half the battle. Some people needed your false friendship – be their buddy. Others needed the drill sergeant approach. Some just needed repetition – after the twenty seventh 'Did you do it?' you'd get a 'Yes.'
He pulled his chair up to the bed and sat, straightening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. At first he had been upset about having to come up here on such short notice, but now he was actually glad to get away from all of the nonsense that he had to deal with on a daily basis. This was what he really loved – field work.
Pell's right arm twitched. This was going to be fun. He held the file open on his lap and stared at the papers but his interrogation was already well-planned. He turned his attention to Pell, studying him, taking him in, trying to get a feel for who he was. Slowly Pell opened his eyes. Arthur waited until Pell looked relatively alert. "How're you feeling, Agent Pelletier?"
"Been better."
"You know why I'm here?"
"Of course. You're here for me. Frankly, I didn't think you'd come."
"Well here I am. Do you feel up for talking now?"
"I guess there's no time like the present," Pell replied. "And, given the state I'm in, there may not be any other time than the present."
"The doctors say you're out of the woods."
"I feel like it."
"Rough few days?"
Pell nodded softly, "Look, Arthur, I understand the approach but let's just cut the bullshit. You're here to talk to me, to hear what I have to say for myself."
"Then let's talk," Arthur replied.
"Is this on the record?"
"Of course. Why?"
"Then I think I should have a lawyer."
"Why's that?"
Pell chuckled as he pressed the button that elevated his head. "Come on, Arthur. Don't give me that."
"I don't think you need a lawyer, Paul. I've read the report on what's been happening. This case that you were working, if it proves to be real, is huge. You realize what's at stake here?"
"It's real," Pell said calmly.
"How do you know?"
Pell smiled as he turned back to Arthur. "I'm a patsy, Arthur."
"A what?"
"You know, like Lee Harvey Oswald, a straight up patsy. According to Carl, I'm an Agent turned bad. On the run, killing cops and all that bullshit but I've been set up. I reported this whole virus thing to Carl personally. I followed our escalation protocols exactly and he told me it was bullshit and not to follow up on it. He said, if I remember his words exactly, that I should go back up to Bangor fucking Maine. But I couldn't do that, not with what's at stake here. Can you imagine it?"
"Imagine what?"
"This virus, if it exists, and if it works, it would be something mankind has never had to deal with. I wanted make sure all avenues had been explored before dismissing it. And what do I get for it?"
"I'm not following you," Arthur said after a moment. He pointed down the hall to Carl and his two agents. "Are you saying Carl didn't respond to the escalation?"
"Do you know my history with the Bureau?"
"Of course. Why?"
"Carl won't let it go," Pell said as he struggled to sit up in his bed.
"But that was so long ago. Hell, don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't even know you were still with the Bureau until the other day."
"That's fine. But I can tell you that Carl Moscovitz has been after my ass for eighteen years. When I came down here and presented this case to him, he saw his opportunity to finally get rid of me."
"How so?"
Arthur listened intently as Pell recounted the events of the past few days. He noticed subtle and not so subtle differences with Carl's report. He sensed there was more here than what he had expected. Hints of which surfaced through Pell's story and he found Pell to be extremely believable. There was something about the guy that made Arthur comfortable with him and with what he was saying.
"Carl told me he was not going to put anyone on the case and that I should forget about it but I couldn't and when he realized I was still digging around, his main objective became making certain that he brought me down. Hard."
Arthur sat patiently, quietly returning Pell's stare. He had the urge to start asking questions but resisted it. Let Pell say what he had to say. Maybe it would all just flow out, making this easier than Arthur had anticipated.
"When Carl issued that APB I hadn't broken any laws. All I did was disobey his order to stand down. Really, all I'd done was go visit Andleman and there is no crime in that."
Arthur pursed his lips and nodded. Carl had certainly left out a lot of the color.
"And, I didn't want to kill that cop up in New Hampshire," Pell said. "It was an accident, he tried to arrest me. In fact, I didn't actually shoot him. I flipped him to the ground and he fell on his gun. I radioed for help from his car, but he started shooting at me. That's how I got this." He pointed at the bandages on his chest. "I had to get out of t
here before he finished me off."
"So what did Maurice Andleman tell you?"
"He told me to get a lawyer."
Arthur laughed. "No, seriously, Pell. Did he tell you anything of use?"
"I am being serious, Arthur. I'm not going to let Carl and his vendetta plant my ass in jail for the next twenty years. So, the way I see it is that you've got two options. Cut me a deal and I'll talk, or put the cuffs on me now and try to find Sarah Burns and her potions on your own. At this point, I've got nothing to lose."
"You've got everything to lose, Pell."
"I do? Like what? Wife, kids, family – sorry, not applicable. My dead-end job in Maine – you can have it. I've got nothing, so don't tell me how good my life is, or what my responsibilities are, all right?"
"Okay, Pell, calm down."
Pell took several deep breaths. The machines monitoring him beeped and buzzed like a mariachi band.
"So what kind of a deal are we talking about?"
"It's pretty simple. Drop any legal actions against me, and give me a full-boat, life-long pension with benefits, effective immediately."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Not one bit."
"There's no way I can do that. You shot and almost killed a cop, for Christ's sake. There's no way I can let you walk."
"But it was an accident!"
Arthur turned his palms up and shrugged.
"Well, there is one way you can let me walk," Pell said.
Arthur walked to the front of the bed and paced. He fished a breath mint out of his pocket, wishing it was a cigarette, and popped it into his mouth. "So, either Maurice Andleman told you something real good, or you've got something else up your sleeve."
"I've told you nothing you didn't already know."
"That's not completely true but whatever," Arthur said as he crunched down on the mint. "Are we talking about Sarah Burns, or is there something else?"
"Let's just say that I know something that could be extremely embarrassing to the Bureau – major scandal, congressional hearings, the whole works. The Bureau is teetering as it is, Arthur. You know that. We could be split, consumed, dissolved, or –"
"You don't have to tell me what's going on."
"I know. News like this will just be more fuel for the political fire, that's all. Believe it or not, I still love the Bureau."
Arthur resumed pacing. He tugged at his square chin as he walked. After a couple of minutes, he stopped and wrapped his large hands around the shiny rail at the foot of the bed. There were so many angles to everything. Everyone had their own agenda, their own motivations. Some were simply selfish, others purely political right along predictable party lines. It had taken time but Arthur had learned to filter through it – to keep the prime objective in focus. He stared at Pell and said, "Okay, I could probably work out some sort of a deal. If what you've got warrants it, of course."
"Probably?"
"Be realistic, Pell. I can't make any commitments until I know what you're talking about."
"Do you want to know about ongoing corruption at the Bureau? Who the agents are?"
Arthur nodded, "Of course."
"I can point you in the right direction and, all I can say is that this is bad, very bad." Pell raised his bushy eyebrows as his bloodshot, glossy eyes met Arthur's unrelenting gaze. "Bad for the Bureau and certainly bad for you."
"You need to tell me more before I can commit to a deal. But if what you have to tell me is what you are indicating it is, I'll do everything I can to see that you get a fair break. You have my word."
"I hear that your word is as good as gold," Pell said.
Arthur led by example. That in itself was rare enough in Washington, but he was also honest. If he said something, take it to the bank. He knew his reputation and continually refined and exploited it – grew the legend. He could afford to keep his word because he was upfront with people. Tell the truth, not just what people want to hear and you get the luxury of the Honorable Man title. He nodded.
"You'll want what I know, Arthur. If you are giving me your word, right now, that if I'm right, and you'll know that I am, you'll give me what I want."
"I can't do that. Not that I don't want to, if it was worth it, but things like shooting a cop are too politically charged. It's not as easy as saying 'all right, I'll do it.' There'll be repercussions. You have my word that you'll get a fair break. That's the best I can do."
"Cutting me this deal is a non-issue for you, Arthur. You're the number three guy, for Christ's sake, and you didn't get there by not knowing how to get things done."
Arthur crunched down on another mint. Decisions, decisions, decisions. This one was a gamble – a roll of the dice. He didn't have enough information but at a gut level, he believed Pell might have something important, something that he needed to know. "Okay, okay, you've got my word. But this better be good."
Pell smiled, "It is, Arthur. It is." He took a slow drink of water.
Arthur stood up, extracted a mini digital recorder from his briefcase and placed it on the tray table in front of Pell. He pressed the red record button and said, "Let's hear it."
Pell took another sip, grimaced as he squirmed to get comfortable and said, "I've got proof there's a cell within the FBI selling arms, potentially to terrorist organizations."
Arthur folded his muscular arms across his thick chest, stared down at the floor and paced. This was not what he had been expecting to hear today but if it were true, he needed to act on it quickly.
"Selling arms?" Arthur said. "No way. I don't believe it."
"You will believe it when I show you what I've got. And what's more, we know at least one senior person under your command who's involved and I find it hard to believe he's acting completely on his own. He would need some cover from somebody. They're working with a couple guys in the Reserves. Maybe others."
"How the hell did you, of all people, get this information?" Arthur grabbed onto the bed rail and squeezed it hard for a long moment before looking up at Pell and saying, "You have to tell me what you have and where you got it?"
"It doesn't matter right now where I got it."
"The hell it doesn't! Do you realize what you just said? What it means to the Bureau? It's explosive."
"Maybe so but since I'm taking you at your word, you need to take me at mine. There are others who can corroborate what I'm telling you," Pell replied. "In due time, of course."
"Due time is now, Pell. What have you got?"
Pell reached under his blanket and pulled out the brown envelope that Steve had given him.
"What's in here is absolutely explosive but this should be plenty for you to get started on," he said passing it to Arthur.
Arthur looked at Pell gravely before emptying the contents of the envelope out onto the table next to the bed. Photographs, a USB drive and a number of printed documents landed on the table.
He picked through the photographs silently. After a few minutes he plugged the USB into his notebook – documents, audio and video files. He attached his earpiece and played back several recordings. One was of Carl and a man sitting in a café. The video was from outside but the audio was clear, obviously surveilled by a pro and it was damn incriminating. He turned off the notebook, turned to Pell and considered him for a long moment.
"How confident are you in this information?"
"Very," Pell replied.
"It seems like a remarkable coincidence that this evidence suddenly appears after you claim Carl has been targeting you," Arthur said.
"I hate the prick, no doubt about that, but I don't need to make things up about him. I frankly don't see how a piece of shit like him has moved up through the ranks of the Bureau undetected. He's your goddamn direct report, Arthur."
Arthur shook his head at the accurate dig. This would be a scandal all right. The Northeast Region SAC involved in illegal arms trading. Scandal didn't even begin to cover it.
"The worst part is that he's potentially selling to f
undamentalists, could be ISIS, Al Qaeda, any, or all of them for all we know," Pell said. "The bastard's a double traitor."
"We need to prove it. We need to work out what's going on, who the buyer is and if this is true, we need to take him down quickly."
"Get some of your people up here and see what they find. Did you ever notice his suits and ties? A bit too nice, even for a SAC."
"We look at the finances of everyone at Carl's level yearly. I would have been told of any anomalies."
"He knows what they look for. He's not going to give himself away that easily. You need to dig deeper."
"You don't need to educate me on how to handle situations like this, Pell. I know exactly what to do and I will get to the bottom of this, believe me." He stuffed everything back into the envelope and locked it away in his briefcase.
"So? Is that good enough?"
"I'll look into this and if it looks like what it smells like, as I said, you have my word. We have a deal," he replied. His earlier enthusiasm for this diversion to Boston was gone. Now he had two major problems to deal with. He dropped into a chair, leaned back, tilted his head toward the ceiling and pressed his hand over his brow.
What a fucking mess. He'd get a couple of agents doing a deep dive on Carl immediately but he also had to work out what to do about this would-be virus. So far they had nothing substantive. All they had was a bunch of circumstantial situations which were undoubtedly odd and quite potentially connected but nothing definitive. He also had Pell's hunch and the man had been an up and comer in the Bureau back in the day before the Jenkins affair, so he was undoubtedly skilled but was his hunch worth anything?
"So, you haven't told me yet about Andleman. What did he have to say?" Pell was about to explain about Camilla Haywood when there was a light knock on the door and a nurse stuck her head in.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Kent, but there's a man from the State Department on the phone, insisting to talk to you. He says that it's urgent."
Arthur raised one of his eyebrows. "The State Department?"
"That's what he says," she replied in a quivering voice. Her gaze danced around the room, looking at anything but Arthur.