by Terry Keys
My heart pounded hard in my chest as I forwarded the email to Fingers. Then I replied to O’Keefe’s email, explaining who I was and pleading with him not to run this story. I hoped I wasn’t too late.
I slammed the laptop shut and bolted downstairs, phoning Fingers along the way.
“The last twenty calls in and out for Kincer—do you have them yet?”
“Yeah, boss, I got ’em. Why do you sound out of breathe?”
“What about texts?”
“Well, I have the numbers of everyone she texted. The actual messages will take a little longer for me to get my hands on. All these rules and regs.”
I’d just made it back to the complex’s front office. The manager I’d spoken with earlier was crouched behind a desk. “Excuse me, sir. What is your fax number?” I said in a panicked voice.
“Excuse me?”
I realized that I was probably talking a mile a minute. I took a deep breathe. “I need to have something faxed here right now. What is your fax number?”
“Well, son, we use e-fax now. If you have something sent here, I can print it out for you.”
I called the number out for Fingers.
“Did you get that?”
“Files already in route. Need anything else? You been real basic with these requests today.”
I ended the call and nervously waited. “Son, is everything okay with you? Is Sally in some kind of trouble?”
“You hadn’t heard?”
“Guess not. I don’t get out of here much,” the old man replied.
“You do know who Sally was related to, right?”
He shook his head. “Not really. I keep to myself and let my tenants pretty much do the same. I only get involved in personal matters if I have to. And if I have to, it means they don’t need to live here. Catch my drift?”
I nodded. “Fair enough. Well, Sally Kincer is dead.”
The old man gasped. “Oh God, no. Sally was a good kid. What happened to her? Why are you here again?”
“Can you check to see if that fax came through please? My guy said he sent it over a few minutes ago.”
The old man nodded and clicked on his mouse. “Yeah, it’s here. I’ll print it for you. It’s going to shoot out over there.” He pointed to a printer across the room.
“Thank you. I’m going to grab it, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
I could tell the old man wanted more information from me, but he didn’t push it and I didn’t volunteer more.
Chapter 54
The printer looked like it was about ten years old. Red and green lights blinked for at least a minute before I heard the machines internal parts start moving. Finally, after another minute, the machine began printing Kincer’s cell phone records.
If the Secret Service agent I’d interviewed was as candid with everyone else who’d be interviewing him over the next few days as he was with me, this trail wouldn’t be hard to follow. Any skilled detective would immediately gravitate toward this girl and her backpack. From here it should simply be a matter of connecting the dots. That will be especially true if Sally’s article runs today.
I called Cathy Burns for an update.
“Cat, its David. You finish that sketch for me yet?”
“Porter, you know a good sketch can take several hours.”
“I’m kind of in a time crunch here, Cat.”
“Give me fifteen more minutes, and I’ll text over my sketch, okay?”
“Thank you.”
Next it was a call back to Fingers. I grabbed a pen out of my pocket and sat down.
“Okay, let’s go through these numbers.”
“Well, out of the phone calls, eighteen of the twenty numbers are rubbish. Mom, bill collectors, sales calls–numbers I’ve already linked back to months of activity.”
“And the other two calls?” I asked.
“The other two are interesting. Both came from the same burner phone number. I’m already working on tracking it down. But you know how that goes.”
“What about the text messages?”
“More of the same. A bunch of blah. Then one text from the same burner phone number the day before yesterday.”
“Okay. Let me know the minute you track down where that phone was purchased. Maybe some good CCTV work or luck can get us an image of this guy.”
Whoever had called Sally had at least been smart enough to use a burner phone. And being an investigative reporter, I’m sure it wasn’t unusual for her to get anonymous calls and tips via burner phone.
My phone buzzed. It was the sketch from Cat. I clicked on the image and enlarged it with my fingers. I took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Oh God, no!
My hand shook as I frantically rifled through the pictures in my phone. I’d taken one of Rael’s family a few days earlier from the phone he’d hidden for me. No. No. No. This had to be some kind of mistake. Finally I found the picture I was looking for. There was no doubt about it. The girl in Cat’s sketch was Rael’s daughter.
Chapter 55
I collapsed back into the couch behind me and stared at the lobby ceiling. My mind replayed everything I knew. El Printo and his men hadn’t killed Rael’s entire family. Had they taken his daughter and turned her into the perfect weapon? Or had Rael been involved from the start?
I thought back to my interrogation of him. If he had been lying to me, he was good—really good. Despite what I believed, the FBI, CIA, and everyone else would believe that Rael was right in the middle of it all. Was he? I couldn’t be sure either way.
I needed to know now. I thumbed my phone for Mullinski’s number.
“I need you to do something,” I said as he answered the phone.
“Get Rael out of his cell. Take him to a conference room and lock the door behind you. Call me back when you get settled.”
“Okay. You want to tell me what this is about?”
“You’ll see in a second.”
He hung up and I turned my attention back to Kincer.
“Excuse me,” I called out to the manager.
“There something else you need?”
“I know you said you didn’t dabble in people’s affairs. But did you know anything about Sally that you could share with me?”
“Not really. Real private girl. I know she was some kind of writer or newspaper person.”
“Yes, she was.” I handed him my card. “It’d be really helpful if you called me with anything that comes to mind.”
He took the card from me and stared at it. “Houston, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Never been.”
“Well, you should visit someday. Great city, amazing state. You have yourself a great day.” I turned to leave.
“You been down to Rock Creek Park yet?”
“Rock Creek Park?” I asked.
“Yeah. About five minutes from here. I walk every day about this time to stay in shape. When you get my age, you gotta do something, ya know.”
I nodded.
“Sometimes I’d see Sally there writing or talking to someone. I imagined it was her office. Good, serene place to do an interview. Lots of trees, wild animals. Great place.”
“Could you point me in the direction of this park?”
I headed out on foot, taking the path that Sally probably would have taken if she’d indeed gone to the park to meet Rael’s daughter or anyone else.
I was particularly interested in the businesses I’d pass along the way. Did any of them have cameras set up? Did she pass any ATMs? Banks?
I reached the corner of Georgia Avenue. In front of me I saw PNC Bank. And across the street, right where Sally Kincer probably would have crossed, was Rock Creek Park.
The area was sparsely populated, which was good for me. If Kincer had come by here yesterday, it probably wouldn’t have been hard to spot her and anyone she might have been meeting. It was a long shot, but right now it was the best thing I had going.
My phone rang.
“You
got him?” I asked Mullinski.
“Yeah, we’re here. Now, what’s going on?”
“Just you two, right?”
“Yes.”
“Hang on.”
“I just sent two video links to your phone. Hook it up to the projector in the room. Make him watch them both. And then tell me if it’s the first time he’s seen them. If he’s angry, hurt. Or did he know what was coming?”
“Pretty tall task, don’t you think? And what’s on these video?”
“Best if I don’t tell you. Call me back after you’ve watched them both.”
I went inside the bank and asked to speak with the manager. A few minutes later, a middle-aged, clean-shaven man of about my height walked over to me.
“Max Unger,” he said, reaching for my hand.
“David Porter, HPD.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Porter. I hear you want to look at some of our surveillance from yesterday?”
“Yes, I do. How many cameras do you have that point across that street?”
“Two. Do you want to tell me what this is about?”
“The explosion that killed the president of the United States yesterday.”
The man’s face turned red. “You think the killer may be on those tapes?”
“I don’t know what’s on those tapes, Mr. Unger. That’s why I need to see them.”
“Yes, of course. Follow me.”
He led me back to his security room.
“This is Jimmy. He watches all of the video during the daytime. Makes sure all the cameras are up and running and flags us if he sees anything suspicious. Jimmy, this is a detective from Houston. He needs our help. You give him whatever he needs. I’ll leave you two at it.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Unger closed the door behind him.
“So, what you wanting to see, exactly?”
“Well, Jimmy, let’s start around nine a.m. yesterday and bring up the footage from the cameras pointing across the street toward the park.”
“Okay, and what are we looking for?”
My phone rang and I put a hand up to Jimmy.
“Well?”
“Damn it, Porter, what the hell was that?”
“Shit. You saw them. Rael—was he shocked? Had he known?”
“Guy’s crushed. His breathing is ragged. Hell, we’re going to have to put him on suicide watch. His wife and his daughter? Did you rea—”
“Yes. Can’t explain it all now. I had to know if he was really on our side. Best way I knew how.”
“Making the guy watch that? Really shitty way to find out his allegiances.”
“Trust me, I know how shitty it was. But I had to know for sure. Make certain the medical and psych teams take a good look at him. I gotta run.”
Jimmy stared blankly at me. “Still waiting on you to tell me what the hell we’re looking for, captain.” he said.
“Not sure exactly. Let’s just say I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Well, what kind of down-South sense does that make?”
I laughed. “I’ve been a detective a long time, Jimmy. Trust me on this.”
An hour after watching hordes of people walk by the bank, I finally saw her.
“Stop right there. Go back thirty seconds,” I said.
“Okay, okay. Calm yourself.”
I heard my phone chime again. It was a text message. I chose to ignore it for now. Ten seconds into the playback, Sally Kincer appeared on the monitor, hurrying along and weaving her way through the throng. She had a notepad of some sort tucked under her arm.
“Looks like that lady there is in a hurry,” Jimmy said.
“Yeah, she was. She’s dead now.”
Jimmy gasped. “Dead? So are we doing, like, real detective work?”
I nodded. “Yes, Jimmy. Like, real detective work. Freeze it right there. Make sure there’s a time stamp on that image, and email it to me.” I gave Jimmy my email address.
“Now what do you want to see?”
“Oh, we aren’t done here, Jimmy. Let the camera roll.”
Several dozen people and fifteen minutes later, they scurried across the screen. There’s almost no greater feeling in the world than a hunch paying off.
“Jimmy, stop the tape and back it up twenty seconds.”
My phone buzzed again in my pocket. This time I dug it out and took a look. It was a DC number requesting that I call ASAP. What the hell was happening now?
I turned my attention back to the screen. I watched as a mystery man tugged Rael’s daughter along behind him.
The man was tall and very handsome. Rael’s daughter was strikingly beautiful. It was very clear how she’d managed to get the Secret Service to lower their guard. After all, pretty girls can’t be gun-toting terrorists.
“Why does that guy look so nervous?” Jimmy asked. “And who’s the girl? She’s a real beaut. And what’s with the limp?”
I didn’t respond to him. “Pause it there.” I had a good shot of the man’s face. And there was a pretty clear shot of Rael’s daughter’s face too—not that I needed it, but I knew others would.
“Send both of those images to my email as well, Jimmy. And you are correct; he does have a limp. Birth defect, maybe? One leg longer than the other?”
“Will do. You know, this detective jazz is pretty cool.”
“Yeah, when you’re not getting shot at I guess it is pretty cool, Jimmy.”
Chapter 56
I set up an Uber and stepped outside to use my phone. I dialed the number from the text message I’d received and waited.
“It’s about time, Detective. This is President Brown. If we didn’t already have a worldwide catastrophe on our hands, we’ve got one now.”
“I believe I’m really close to finding these guys. I need a little more time.”
“Doesn’t matter. China, Russia, Iraq, and Afghanistan are sending troops now.”
“Troops?”
“They’re sending teams in to tactically remove their leaders and take them home.”
“We’ve already been warned that if any of them try to leave, we’ll have more murders on our hands. Let me find these guys and put them out of commission. They have carried out every promise they’ve made. These guys are good. And before yesterday, they’d almost been perfect. Almost. Like I said, I’m close to nailing them.”
“Keep tracking them down. We still need to capture them. But those countries are done waiting on the U.S. to find them. They are done allowing us to protect their leaders. They have lost faith in our ability to even protect our own president. And neither of us can argue with them there. Like it or not, they are coming, and maybe hell is coming with them. And after word gets out, there’ll be more countries to follow, I’m sure.”
“They’re gambling with those guys lives!”
“If you look at it from their point of view, they are gambling either way.”
“I’ll call you with an update soon.”
Now I needed to get Fingers going on those pictures. I gave him a call.
“Fingers, log into my email. There’s a screenshot of a man and Rael’s daughter.”
“You sure?”
“I’m positive. I’m pretty sure she was our suicide bomber. I need to know who he is ASAP. Run him through facial recognition. Let’s see if we can link him to the burner phone used to call Kincer.”
“Well, now that you mention that burner phone . . .”
“Yes?”
“Maybe I can do you one better. Give me a second.”
A second was something I really didn’t have, but he’d earned that much.
“All right. I have an image loading. Okay, I got it. Damn it, Porter.”
“What?”
“I tracked down where that burner phone was purchased and when. I’d already been running the store video of the man through facial. It’s the same guy, Porter. It’s him. And I just got a name: Marty Wolfe. I’ll send you his address.”
“Great work. Start
searching the web. I want to know everything there is to know about this guy. Find his bank accounts. Let’s see if he’s received any million-dollar-plus payments during the last few days. If so, we follow the money.”
“I’m on it. Address sent.”
Chapter 57
I’d plugged Marty Wolfe’s address into my phone’s GPS, and it told me I was twenty minutes away. He lived in a southeast DC neighborhood called Hillcrest. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d be home. If I were in his shoes, though, especially after yesterday’s bombing, I wouldn’t be.
Fingers early work told me Wolfe was ex-military and he’d spent time overseas. Which may explain how or where he’d made the connection with God’s Warriors. It didn’t explain why he’d work with them and abandon everything he stood for. And how had he gotten in the service with the limp I’d seen on the bank video?
He also had an ex-wife and a five-year-old daughter, but they lived on the West Coast. Probably estranged.
I’d know in a few hours, but I’m sure he didn’t deliver the girl for free. And I’m sure the bounty was steep. If he was smart, he’d already be on a plane to somewhere with no extradition. Wolfe probably didn’t know it, but no extradition hadn’t stopped me before, nor would it this time.
The Uber driver had arrived, and we were headed toward Wolfe’s house. As I came down a little from the high of finding out who he was, I rethought everything. How would history remember the last few days? This would be right alongside the assassinations of Lincoln and JFK. What could I have done to prevent it?
“Excuse me sir?” I called to the driver.
The driver, an older Hispanic man, looked up at me in the rearview mirror.
“I need a favor. I’m kinda on police business,” I said, dangling my badge in the air.
“I’m legal, man. I got all my papers.”
I laughed. “Not what I meant. I may need you to hang out a little while. I’ll pay you whatever you miss in pickups while you’re with me. Deal?”