Full Disclosure (A Nice Guys Novel Book 2)

by Kindle Alexander

  “We’re bunking together here too. Apparently the bureau’s short of space right now,” Kreed said, typing away on his computer.

  “That shit doesn’t mean you take over my spot,” Mitch said, placing his coffee on the edge of the desk. On a second thought, he picked the hot paper cup back up and downed several gulps. He needed the liquid energy because he’d only gotten about twenty minutes of sleep last night on that damn uncomfortable fucking sofa.

  “Sure, I can. You can sit over there.” Kreed pointed to the other side of the desk.

  “The hell I am!” Mitch grabbed the laptop out from under Kreed’s hands and laid it on the decorative office chair facing the desk.

  “Hey, man!”

  “You have five seconds before I physically move you out of my chair,” Mitch warned.

  “Try it,” Kreed taunted, gripping on the sides of the chair. “This chair’s badass. The Marshals Service needs to invest. I refuse to go willingly.”

  “Four.” Mitch started rounding the desk toward the back of the chair.

  “Three,” Mitch growled, and Kreed anchored his feet to the ground.

  “Two.” Mitch continued the countdown and gripped the back of the chair.

  “No fair! You gave me your lumpy bed, and I bet it was covered in undesirable shit, too,” Kreed protested.

  “One.” Mitch used his brute force, dumping Kreed out of the chair. He didn’t hesitate jumping in the vacant seat as Kreed landed on his knees and hands, breaking the fall.

  “You suck, man. Can’t say you’ve never had me on my hands and knees, Knox,” Kreed chuckled.

  “Whatever. The promise of personal favors won’t help either, Sinacola,” he said smugly, reaching for his coffee.

  “And I thought you cared. Hell, you didn’t even bring me a cup of coffee,” Kreed replied, getting to his feet. “Speaking of coffee, shouldn’t we be heading over to the coffee shop?”

  “Connors will be here soon. He’s running behind,” Mitch supplied, pulling his laptop back in front him.

  “Oh course he is. And why do we have to wait?” Kreed questioned.

  “Because he happens to be my partner on this fucking case. The coffee’s right around the corner. No, to the left not the right,” Mitch called out when Kreed went the wrong way. Seconds later, he was back with Brown on his heels.

  ”Brown agrees, let’s get moving. Connors can meet us there,” Kreed announced.

  “All right, but you guys are explaining this when Connors gets his panties in a wad. Did you get your official reassignment?” Mitch asked, reaching for the jacket he’d tossed on the coat rack by the door.

  “The email was waiting for me when I came in this morning,” Kreed offered, heading for the elevator.

  The three of them made it as far as the elevator before the doors opened to Director Young. Mitch could feel the collective sigh from both Brown and Kreed.

  “I was coming down to see you,” Director Young said.

  “We’re headed down,” Mitch offered up quickly.

  “I’ll ride down with,” he said, holding the door open. Kreed entered first, Mitch followed, and Brown was working at a much slower pace.

  “I’m Kreed Sinacola.” He held out his hand to the director who reluctantly offered his. He didn’t introduce himself.

  “Since the team has doubled, we’re expecting quicker results,” Director Young said.

  “Sir—” Brown started, but the director cut him off.

  “I need daily reports from this point forward. It’s been well over a week and you’ve got nothing. Now we’re having to double your team. No one’s pleased,” the director’s tone was sharp and clear. Mitch stayed quiet, because no one wanted to hear what he had to say after three days of pussyfooting around the legal department with the Secret Service interviews.

  The elevator opened on the first floor parking garage. The director never said another word or looked back in their direction.

  “Well, isn’t he just a breath of fresh air,” Kreed mumbled, as they walked off at a slower pace.

  “You have no idea,” Brown replied.

  “I vote Connors to be the one to give the daily updates,” Mitch recommended, finally stepping off the elevator as the doors started to close.

  “I second it,” Brown said.

  “It unanimous then. Serves him right for being late,” Kreed added, heading for Mitch’s rental.

  ~~~

  Eight o’clock in the morning and the coffee shop bustled with business. Long lines streamed from each order station and every so often names were called with coffee handed over the end of the counter. The place worked like a well-oiled machine, and no one had to wait too long for an order.

  Their whole game plan for the visit came to three men there just having coffee. It was a brilliant plan, didn’t take long to formulate, and might have holes. They’d have to wait and see. Mitch and Kreed followed along behind Brown, but Kreed’s attention stayed focused elsewhere.

  Mitch led Kreed down the hall where Elliot Greyson was last seen. They entered the men’s bathroom, running everyone off inside. Kreed pulled out his tools to sweep the room to see if any taps had been left behind. They both did a thorough search for hidden exit routes. Even the ceiling was concrete. Just like the original reports, there was nothing amiss with the room. Elliot couldn’t have exited this room without going through the door.

  “Gentlemen, we need to move it along.” A voice came from the hall outside the locked bathroom door. Mitch recognized the voice, and he used his hand codes to try to let Kreed know who was at the door.

  “Deputy Marshal Knox,” the owner said. Damn, he remembered Mitch’s name. For a one-time chance meeting that seemed odd to him, but some people were just like that. He hadn’t pegged that guy as one of them.

  “Mr. DeGeorge, I want you to meet my partner, Kreed Sinacola.” Mitch turned to Kreed as he opened the door. Kreed stood right there in the doorway, blocking customers who waited to use the facilities while Mitch made the introductions.

  “Has anything else happened?” Mr. DeGeorge asked, concerned.

  “No, sir, Deputy Marshal Sinacola’s new to the case. He mentioned he wanted to have a look at the scene, so I brought him over.” Mitch took another glance around the restroom.

  “I do have a few questions. Are you busy?” Kreed asked as he stepped into the hallway.

  “It’s rush hour for us,” Mr. DeGeorge said, somewhat defensively.

  “It won’t take long,” Kreed announced and straightened to his full height, towering over the guy.

  “All right, I guess I’m willing to spare a few minutes to help. I hope you’re getting closer to identifying the scum who did this. Business is suffering with all this police presence all the time,” Mr. DeGeorge replied. He was a small man with a graying beard and had always seemed nice enough until right this minute. He motioned for them to follow him, and he lead them down the same hall, but in the opposite direction and a little deeper in to the building, until they were almost at the back door. Mr. DeGeorge turned right and ushered them toward the small office.

  “Is this the only back door to the building?” Kreed questioned the owner as he looked over the door.

  “Yes, it leads to the Dumpster and alley,” DeGeorge said.

  “Can I take a look?” Kreed asked

  “Of course, but your men scoured the area…”

  “Humor me,” Kreed replied, not stepping inside the office, but staying close to the door. Mr. DeGeorge skirted around Mitch toward the back door. He entered a security code.

  “Who has this code?” Kreed inquired. Mitch listened to see if an answer might change, but so far everything was on the up and up.

  “Every employee here. The Dumpster’s out back.” DeGeorge opened the back door, and Kreed walked out first, spotting the security camera by the door.

  “Who controls the security camera?” Kreed asked, keeping an eye on the owner.

  “We do. It’s set up in the computer
you guys confiscated. Any word when we can get it back?” Mitch and Kreed ignored the owner’s question. Kreed climbed the side of the Dumpster and pushed on the protective security gate. Mitch watched him closely. The only way Elliot could have gotten over the top of the fence would have been with help. The spiral barbwire had no DNA. And the only other way out was down the alley, which would have passed by the assigned Secret Service agent out front.

  “The Dumpster contents?” Kreed looked over at Mitch and asked.

  “It’s still in FBI custody,” Mitch answered.

  Kreed jumped down and turned to Mr. DeGeorge. “This is the only way out?”

  “Correct. And the agent sitting on the road never saw anyone else,” Mr. DeGeorge offered.

  “No disturbance, nothing abnormal that night?” Kreed kept probing. He was relentless, which was exactly why Mitch wanted his friend on this case.

  “No one noticed anything until we locked up and the Secret Service agents were banging on the doors.” The man looked down at the ground and wiped his hands on his apron.

  “Someone’s lying,” Kreed said to Mitch.

  “Now wait a minute,” Mr. DeGeorge spoke up.

  “We aren’t talking to you,” Kreed blurted, flashing an intimidating gaze toward the man as he started to walk the alley toward the street. Mitch followed. He’d been through these things with Kreed for years. Kreed had an innate ability to flesh out a situation. His expertise was unprecedented, and Mitch had called him more times than he could count to run things past him, see what he was missing.

  Kreed walked slowly, undoubtedly checking for any holes, any way the roof might have been used. Once he got to the street and retraced his steps to where they’d started, they’d lost the owner. He’d vanished. Kreed started to push the Dumpster toward the wall.

  “Help me, I want to get up there,” Kreed said. Mitch grabbed an end and helped roll the Dumpster to the back wall. First Kreed, then Mitch, hoisted himself up onto the roof. The surface was flat, with an awning stuck out from the front making it appear angled. Kreed walked the entire length as Mitch went for the canopy. He’d seen this area before. They’d actually wiped it down for fingerprints and DNA, but he checked again, trying to find anything that might help them with this case.

  “He’s lying,” Kreed whispered and scared the shit out of Mitch. Kreed had that way of just being quiet all the fucking time. Mitch supposed that was from all those years as a Navy SEAL.

  “How do you know?” Mitch asked.

  “Gut,” Kreed turned to him and shrugged. “Did we background check him?”

  “You read the report.” Mitch sat down on the roof and looked out over the building. What were they missing?

  “No, I mean your online guy. Did you send this through him?” Kreed’s brows knitted together, and he let out a long sigh as he sat down beside Mitch.

  “I don’t know, maybe. I put so much in front of him,” Mitch answered honestly.

  “Get him to dig. That man’s hiding something, I’m sure of it.” Kreed nodded his head toward the coffee shop.

  “We could bring him in, but, man, there’s absolutely no good-cop, bad-cop types here. Can you see Connors playing bad cop?” Mitch laughed at the thought. “We wouldn’t get much more out of him.”

  “No, and we don’t need to bring him in just yet.” Kreed lowered his voice. “You need to bug his office tonight. His house today.” Mitch rolled his eyes. Of course, he’d be the one that had to do it. “And don’t get caught,” Kreed added.

  “I don’t ever get caught, ass,” Mitch hissed quietly.

  “Stop looking like that. I know he’s hiding something. We’ll get a direction out of this, I guarantee it,” Kreed said before getting up and strolling across the roof. Mitch was slower. He’d never hesitated on doing things like this. Hell, he and Aaron did some shit that would have earned them both jail time if they’d been caught, but in those cases, he’d been pretty damn sure of what he was dealing with. Not this time, though, but Kreed had never let him down before. So invasion of privacy, here they came.

  Chapter 33

  Mitch had three objectives. He needed access to the coffee shop’s incoming and outgoing calls on his cell phone. He needed DeGeorge’s phone tapped, and he needed the information from the man’s computer at work, as well as at his home. Thank god they lived in a time where most of those objectives could be achieved without setting foot outside the FBI building.

  His only problem? He didn’t want to involve the director to achieve any of those goals. Nor did he have anything other than Kreed’s gut to go on. Definitely not enough to convince anyone in this building to possibly take someone’s civil liberties away.

  He had two choices. Mitch had developed some pretty decent relationships with a federal judge who now sat on the FISA court. Not allowing himself the overthink this, he palmed his phone and sent a message to the judge, praying for an expedited approval on wiretap for DeGeorge’s office, shop, and home. He quickly and efficiently bullet-pointed the information the judge might need to pull this together as soon as possible. To his surprise, the judge responded back immediately that he’d have approval back to him in the next hour. Mitch gave himself a mental high-five. One obstacle down, another to go.

  Second, Mitch had to call Anne into their secret plan. She had bureau clout. Being the administrative assistant to the top guy gave her a certain authority around the building. Anne was smart, sharp as a tack, and beautiful. On a very firm second decision to not overthink things, Mitch grabbed his suit coat and tossed it over his arm, ready to slide it on if needed. He entered the elevator, pushed the fourth floor button, and swiped his tag to gain entrance to the elite floor.

  Every eye in the room stopped what they were doing in order to look his way as he walked past. The disapproving looks were still right there on their faces. After all this time, he actually got used to the stares and even laughed now because envy had to crawl up their asses that he got away with things and they couldn’t.

  He rounded the corner and saw the director’s door closed. Thank god for small favors. He stopped in front of Anne’s desk.

  “Hi, Mitch,” Anne said, never looking up from the computer screen as she typed.

  “How’d you know it was me?” Mitch was impressed.

  “If I said cologne, would you believe me?” she questioned, finally turning her smiling face up to his.

  “What’s the real reason?” he asked skeptically.

  “The room always becomes quiet when you walk through. I’ve thought it’s because you’re such a good-looking guy, but today I suspect it’s the shirt without the required jacket on, not just close by.” Anne pointed at his shirt and suit coat hanging over his arm.

  “It’s a cool shirt,” he defended in a mock tone of shock, ignoring the jacket comment. He was past tired of that stupid rule.

  “Ass Bandit. Really, Mitch? You know you do it on purpose,” she said, all attention on him now as she held laughter in her eyes, and a growing smile.

  “I might do that, but it’s funny, and it got you smiling, so it works,” he said and realized he might have turned the sweetness on a little too much.

  “What do you want?” Anne sighed.

  “I need you for a minute,” he answered.

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  “Not here,” he leaned in and whispered, pointing toward the elevator. “Can you come with me?”

  She nodded and stood. He led the way, not speaking until they hit the lobby. Mitch didn’t stop until he reached the water fountain where he took a seat. Anne did the same, sitting on the seat right next to his.

  “I need extreme confidentiality. Can you give that to me?” he asked as she sat down beside him.

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “No, I mean no one knows.” He couldn’t stress this point enough.

  “All right, you have my word. I told you Saturday I was in to help get this resolved.”

  “I contemplated calling my office
in Louisiana, but it’s bigger than that. We need people closer,” Mitch confided.

  “And you feel like the director wouldn’t go along with this plan?” She looked up at him, and he gave her a smile. No, he knew the director wouldn’t go along with this plan.

  “I’d rather say it like this to you. Director Young gave me carte blanche and I’ve gotten judicial approval.” Mitch changed the words around to fit his need. It was a skill he’d perfected over the years.

  “And that’s to protect me for doing what you want?” Anne asked.

  Mitch nodded and looked down at his Doc Martens. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Okay, I’m in. I haven’t told you, but this case holds special interest to me. My brother’s gay. His life hasn’t been easy. People like you, help. I want to help, Mitch. What do you need?” She’d surprised him with that one.

  “I need complete surveillance on Mr. DeGeorge, the owner of the coffee shop Elliot Greyson was abducted from,” Mitch said honestly.

  “Director Young would have to commission our Information Technologies’ agents…” Mitch cut her off.

  “I’m working on a court order now. You have to know some of those guys in the IT department. You know everyone. Go down there with me. Don’t lie to them, just sort of insinuate the approval I’ve gotten. Get me the equipment, I’ll get it set, but I need it monitored,” Mitch said.

  “The way I understand it, they can tap into his phone easy,” Anne offered.

  “Right, and I can do that myself, but I need people monitoring the activity, listening twenty-four seven, not just recording for me to go through later. I want his conversations, text messages, and all the conversations going on around him. I want everything,” Mitch said.

  “All right, and you want web-tapping too, I’m guessing?” Anne asked.

  “Yes, absolutely.” Mitch nodded.

  “And you will never tell my husband what you witness, correct?” she asked randomly.

  “Absolutely not. Scout’s honor.” He suspected what she might be about to do and held up his three fingers, flashing her a big grin.

  “Then come on.” Anne was up, walking back into the building and in a new direction. She took him to the back freight elevator, forgoing the standard employee elevators up front. She spent the two minute ride unbuttoning one of her top buttons of her blouse, rolling the waistband of her skirt over one time to shorten the length, and she reached inside of her bra, then paused when she caught him watching, and motioned for him to turn around. Mitch did, not pointing out that he had absolutely no interest in what she had going on. As the doors opened, she tousled her hair, and all Mitch could do was stare at her because she had managed to transform herself from the proper administrative assistant to a hot little number in a hundred and twenty seconds.