by JL Redington
The pictures ended abruptly with angry voices from the other room. That must mean she was conscious. Had she been unconscious before? Breathe…pain, don’t breathe. Who were they talking about? A takeover? Someone was trying to take over the cartel? Locally? She couldn’t tell. They referred to him as…she couldn’t quite hear the name, but it was obvious they were all afraid of him. It sounded like ‘snake’ or something like that. His name was Snake? What kind of a name was that? Focus…focus…what were they saying? Dixon shouted several times that he wanted to know who this man was that was “squeezing” him.
Alexa tried to breathe but her ribs reminded her again that was not a good idea. She felt like she was floating in and out of consciousness. When conscious, she forced herself to listen, to hear what they were talking about. She could hear their voices again, which meant she must be conscious. It was hard to not feel the pulsing in her face, the pain in her ribs and the aching in her head. If she could just force herself to listen, it often served as a distraction, taking her mind off of her pain. If she died before she could tell anyone what she heard then it was all for nothing, but it helped her to not always think about how her legs ached and her arms tingled.
She heard snippets of conversation, threats and angry voices. There was someone trying to take over Dixon’s spot, she was sure of it. It seemed that even he didn’t know who it was, but it wasn’t clear to Alexa where he’d gotten this information. From his voice, she was certain he was nervous. Nervous was not good. People did bad things when they were afraid, made rash decisions. Heavy footsteps were coming toward her again. How angry was Dixon now?
Chapter Eighteen
Agent Grantham laid his heavy hand on Cayman’s shoulder.
“When I give an order, Cayman, I mean for it to be obeyed. If you go out again, against standing orders, I will take your gun and badge. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Cayman. “It’s just that…what if she’s dead? I-”
“Stop right there, son,” Grantham said, “We will find her, and until we know differently, she is alive. Do you hear me? She is alive.”
Cayman nodded his head and turned again to the view of the city. He rubbed the back of his neck to slow the aching he felt there. How long had it been since he’d slept? He felt instantly fatigued.
Cayman and Patrick hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot. Agent Grantham had a feeling Patrick wouldn’t be able to hold his brother back, so he waited. Once they were in their car, he’d pulled up behind them and ushered them patiently into the building.
Grantham knew that Cayman’s frustration level was building. He was aware for every hour that went by, the possibility of finding Alexa alive grew smaller and smaller. Cayman, having been on the investigative side of the fence many times, also knew this was the case, and it was hard for him to not hit the panic button. Still, he could feel panic rising in him like a sour stomach. The team had been gone for two hours and still no word.
Patrick’s radio crackled with the news a Sit. Rep. had been called and all the team was to head back into the office.
It was a very disappointed group of agents that filed into the room this time. A few would pat Cayman on the arm; most avoided making eye contact with him altogether. The bitter taste of a double agent was on all their tongues, and that made the situation even harder to deal with. There was a small amount of chatter as Agent Grantham walked to the front of the room. The enlarged photo from Cayman and Patrick still hung on the board.
Grantham pulled a map of the city down from the ceiling.
“We’ve had some reports of activity in these areas,” he announced, pointing to a specific portion of the map. “We need to concentrate all our efforts in these spots. I need you all to go home, get some rest and we’ll get a fresh start in the morning. The second team will continue looking through the night, but you kids need to get some sleep.”
***
Cayman spent the night pacing, trying to figure out why this whole thing felt so wrong to him. Not the kidnapping (which was wrong enough), but the rescue. It was wrong, just wrong and he couldn’t seem to put his finger on why.
His heart ached to find Alexa, he’d never felt like this before and he didn’t like the feeling. What was happening to her? Where could they possibly have her if they were still in the city? Every time he lay down to sleep, the only thing he could see was Alexa, smiling back at him, laughing. He could feel her lips as she moved in to kiss him, and then his eyes would pop back open and the heartache would start all over again.
Daylight was finally showing through the windows of the sleep room. He and Patrick were required to stay in the building, and thankfully, there was a locker room with showers. Cayman thought maybe a warm shower would help to keep his wits about him. The brothers both kept a couple changes of clothes for just this contingency. The shower and change of clothing did feel good, but not that good. He couldn’t get his heart off of Alexa, and that made his brain ineffective.
Agents were filing back into the room for their morning briefing by the time Cayman finished showering and headed to meet with the team.
“Here’s what we have so far,” Grantham began. “Dixon has gone dark. We’ve heard nothing from him since the kidnapping at the airport. He knows about the picture by now, and is probably trying to figure out how to get out of the city. We need to find him before that happens, and this time, the order is shoot to kill.”
A soft murmur went through the ranks, but Grantham could see most of the agents were ready for that order, all of them except Cayman. He stood in the back, his jaw dropped staring at Grantham.
“Isn’t that just what we don’t want to do?” Cayman asked with a voice of surprise. “I mean, don’t we need to know how this happened, to avoid the same problem again? How will we find out what he knows if we just kill him? Truthfully, I’d love to be the one to do it, but it just seems wasteful to have gotten this much information only to throw it away because we have no idea what happened to Dixon to make him turn.”
Grantham cleared his throat. “Clearly Agent Richards, you don’t have the whole story, and I will forgive the disrespect due to the emotional state you’re in. I have given an order as the Lead Agent on this mission. You will comply with that order. Do you understand?”
Cayman folded his arms and nodded, leaning against the back wall. He’d never seen Grantham like this, ever. He was always the level headed one, the one that would break a situation apart and put it together piece by piece to understand it better. This was not like him, not in the least bit.
“You won’t have to worry about shooting him, Agent Richards, because you won’t be allowed out of the building. Should he show up here, however, I would expect you to shoot to kill.” His voice was level, almost threatening.
“Yes, sir.” Cayman and Patrick answered at the same time. Grantham nodded.
“Now,” Grantham continued with the briefing, “Dixon has brought shame and embarrassment to this team. He has taken everything we stand for and tossed it down the crapper. There’s no excuse for putting his own team members in danger the way he has. No excuse! We will find him today. We will rescue the hostage and rid ourselves of Dixon once and for all. There will be no news footage about him being one of ours so we’re treating him differently. We will show this city how we deal with anyone who turns on their own team. Now go get ‘em, Kids!”
The team stood, slapping each other on the back, shouting words of angry encouragement to each other as they headed to their vehicles. There were high fives and shouting back and forth about how they would find him and put an end to “this kind of thing.” They were ready to do what was needed to bring closure to this chapter in the lives of the team. Cayman watched, dumbfounded, at how Grantham, the usually quiet and reserved man he’d always known, had removed all the safeguards agents are trained to keep in check and tossed them out the window.
What was going on? Had the Bureau gone mad? It was baffling to him, but he knew one thing. He woul
d get to the bottom of this, even if he had to break a few more rules to get it figured out. He would do it.
Grantham left with the team, leaving Patrick and Cayman alone in the conference room. Cayman was thinking, wheels turning so loud Patrick had to raise his voice to bring Cayman back to the present.
“Hey! Can you hear me? Where did you go?” Patrick was worried about his brother. He wasn’t acting like he had the past few days, and it appeared he had come to some resolve about his being kept in this cage.
“Patrick, did you see what just happened?” Cayman asked.
“Yeah, it was hard to miss. I’ve never seen Grantham like that before.”
“Neither have I, and that’s the strangest part of all of this,” Cayman began, “what’s up with him? Why is he so emotional? This is the man that’s always told us to take the emotion out of it and keep our heads. Do you think he’s cracking under the pressure?”
Patrick shook his head. “I really don’t know, but there isn’t anything we can do about it. I’m sure it will all blow over. You know how the team gets when one of our own is in danger, or if someone turns. And in this instance, we have both. I mean, Alexa is the daughter of one of our own, and Dixon is the kidnapper. We have a double whammy, so it makes sense everyone would be just a little off.”
“It’s more than being a little off, Patrick.” Cayman was chewing his lip, staring at the now empty rows of chairs. “Come on, we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Here we go,” muttered Patrick. “He’s going to have my head on a chopping block one way or another.”
He followed Cayman down the hallway to Agent Grantham’s office. The door was locked. Taking one look around, Cayman brought out his tools for picking locks and started in on the door knob.
“What are you doing??” Patrick hissed, quickly glancing up and down the hallway. “You can’t do this Cayman, you have to stop, now!”
Patrick put his hand on Cayman’s to get him to stop.
“I know what I’m doing, Patrick. Just let me do this. I have to do something! I can’t just sit around anymore.”
Patrick sighed and the lock slipped open. They entered the office and shut the door softly behind them. The blinds were closed so no one would see them, and immediately Cayman headed for the desk.
Right away Cayman noticed the backpack sitting in a corner by his credenza.
“What is that still doing here? That was supposed to have been sent to Jonathan in Washington D.C.” Cayman eyed the backpack and turned to the desk, thinking.
“What are we looking for?” asked Patrick as he followed Cayman around the desk to the filing cabinet.
“I’m not sure,” said Cayman, “but I’ll know it when I find it. I want to see the file for this case. I want to know the details of the case Grantham said I didn’t know.”
They searched through the file cabinet and there was no file. Cayman knew there would be a file. There was always a file, every case has a file with a number assigned to it.
“Maybe someone else has it,” he muttered, out loud but to himself, “but that’s not the Grantham I know. He’s a control freak…has to have his eyes on everything.”
Patrick pulled open several desk drawers, and with the last drawer he heard something drop to the floor under the desk. He squatted down to see what fell and found a manila envelope with no address or label on it.
“What’s this?” he said picking it up and handing it to Cayman. There was tape on either end of the envelop showing it had been taped to the top of the drawer he’d opened.
They opened the clasp and pulled out a file…the file, along with the cipher from Alexa’s Dr. Seuss books. That cipher was supposed to be sent to Washington with everything else. Why was it in this envelope? Cayman quickly laid the file on the desk and started skimming down the first page, which turned out to be a recent update for the file. About halfway down the page there was a notation handwritten, regarding a witness to a kidnapping in a large warehouse south of town.
Cayman leafed through the loose pages looking for a follow up to that report. There was none. There had apparently not been a follow up.
“Why would he not have followed up on any leads in this case?” Patrick mumbled as he stood beside Cayman. “And we’re not even checking the south end of town. Grantham said all the leads had been for the north end of town. What is he doing, Cayman? There’s got to be something we don’t know, something we’re not seeing.”
Checking each page, it was clear there had been no follow up and no one searching that end of town.
“Let him take my badge and gun. I’m looking at the south end. You’re not coming with me Patrick; I’ll not be responsible for you losing your job.”
Before they left the room, Cayman dialed the number for the main office in Washington, D.C.
“Yeah, Agent Cayman Richards here. I need to speak with Jonathan Truseau.”
“One moment please,” came the crisp reply.
It was a few seconds and there was a voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey Cayman! How’s it going? I haven’t heard from you in forever.”
Cayman’s heart stopped.
“You haven’t heard about the situation here in Phoenix?”
“Situation? No…should I have?”
Cayman went through the whole thing with Jonathan. He explained about Alexa, his assignment to keep her safe, the airport, kidnapping, and how he was supposed to have received the backpack that was still sitting in the corner in Grantham’s office.
“I’ll take care of this Cayman. You take care of you, and be safe. I’m flying out there as soon as I can get a flight. We’ll talk soon. Oh, and, uh, keep this under your hat. I’d just as soon nobody knew I was on my way.”
“Will do. Thanks, Jonathan.”
Cayman hung up the phone, his gut telling him something was about to happen, and he wasn’t going to like it very much.
“This is surreal,” said Patrick. “Why would he not know about this case?”
Cayman shook his head gravely and took the code information out of the file, placing it in the backpack so Jonathan could review it with the rest of the information. Patrick taped the file back in the top of the drawer and headed for the door. Just as they were about to turn the handle, they heard Grantham’s voice coming down the hall. He was back, and heading to his office.
Chapter Nineteen
Cayman and Patrick could hear the key slipping into the lock as Grantham spoke with someone in the hallway. They looked at each other in panic, both thinking of a viable story as to why they were there…inside a locked office. Nothing came to either of them and they prepared for the worst.
The door began to open as someone came down the hall calling to Grantham about a new development in the case. The door shut and Cayman could hear footsteps heading away from the door, down the hall.
They breathed a sigh of relief, quietly opened the door and peeked out. The hallway was empty and they slipped out and softly shut the door behind them. They went the opposite way Agent Grantham had gone so they would come into the conference room from another direction. They did not want Grantham to know they’d been anywhere near his office.
As they walked hurriedly through the hallway, Patrick looked like he was going to be sick.
“Really?” asked Cayman with a small smile, “have you never done undercover work before? This was small beans compared to some squeezes we’ve been in.”
Patrick faked a smile. “Yeah, I know, but at those times it was just my life on the line, not my job and the respect of my superiors.”
“May I be the first to say…you have your priorities in a bit of a wad, I think.”
The two strolled casually into the conference room as agents were preparing for another report. Walking to their usual spot in the back, Cayman leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest.
“So what are you up to, Agent Grantham?” Cayman thought to himself. The little jaunt through Grantham
’s office had managed to take some of the sickness out of Cayman’s stomach, but once he had time to think again, his mind went right back to Alexa. The ache returned and he wondered if she was still alive. The thought made him sick all over again.
Agent Grantham strode quickly into the conference room. He was late, which was unlike him, his face a mask of concern.
“Ladies and Gents; we have a serious problem here. We need to find Alexa Menetti and we need to find her now. We are out of time. From the intel we’ve received there appears to be a changing of the guard in the cartel, and this could mean they have private means to get out of the country. We need to step up our search of the north end of town. Every building, every home, every business will be searched by the end of the day. We have the night team coming on to help with this, as you can see by their attendance at this briefing. You’ll find the breakdown of the areas each team member will cover. You’ll see on the breakdown that you will go in pairs, so be careful. Watch each other’s back. Stay alert.”
“So,” Cayman said, raising his hand, “We’ve had no witnesses reporting in? Nothing more to go on than intel?”
Agent Winston raised his hand. “No, not true. I have a snitch I’ve used for years and I turned in his statement witnessing an exchange of a female prisoner south of town. Just wondering what the follow up on that is.”
“Yeah, about that snitch,” Agent Grantham began slowly. “He was found dead from a gunshot wound to the head about two days ago. His system was full of Meth and alcohol.”
“But-” Agent Winston began and was cut off by Grantham.
“Like I said, stay alert out there. Be aware. Dismissed.”