He dropped Wyatt off at the holding center and told a guard that under no circumstances was he to be allowed to use the phone, then headed to Dede’s office for his run through the gauntlet.
Entering Dede’s office, he caught sight of not only Dede and Dixon, but also Alvarez. Perfect, now three people are going to be pissed at me.
“Well, hero, what have you got to say?” said Dixon, smugly.
“That tie you’re wearing doesn’t go with your ears, Special Agent in Charge Dixon,” said Kintrell.
Dede said, “Agent Kintrell, this is a serious matter. What happens in this office today could have serious and lasting consequences. Do you read me?”
Kintrell decided to go on the offensive. “Yes, ma’am, I’m aware of that, for everybody. I mentioned in an earlier meeting with Dixon my misgivings about this raid on the ALBH compound. I tracked down this Wyatt character, the guy whose rifle was found at the airfield, when no one in the task force was able to. When we collared him, he thought we were there to kill him. He told us of this massive drug enterprise the boys in the compound have going with a meth lab close by, and wives of members being used as couriers. When we got around to talking about the rifle, he said he gave it to the guys in the compound. When pressed about the killings, he had no idea what we were talking about and I believe him. If we go all out Waco on that compound and it comes out that these clowns had nothing to do with it, how’s that going to make the bureau look?”
Dede looked at Dixon.
“That’s quite a story, Agent Kintrell. You said we collared him. Who else was with you?”
“I took Lieutenant Stryker with me,” said Kintrell.
“Why was that?” probed Dixon.
Before he could say anything, Agent Alvarez spoke up, “That’s my fault, Agent Dixon, the intel we had on Wyatt was spotty so we decided I would continue working on the list of special operators, and Kintrell would ask Stryker to join him. That way, we could both try to show some results.”
“Well, that’s preposterous,” sputtered Dixon. “Do you expect me to believe …”
“Do you have evidence that my agent is lying to you?” asked Dede, an edge in her voice.
“Kintrell’s actions could have screwed the whole operation, never mind that he disobeyed my orders,” said Dixon.
“What orders? You told me to continue following up on what we had been working on, that it was probably a dead end—your words, that you didn’t think I could add anything constructive to the investigation. You certainly didn’t order me not to arrest anyone,” said Kintrell.
Dede locked eyes with Dixon. “Agent Dixon, given what we have heard, are you willing to take personal responsibility for the fallout that may come if, in fact, Kintrell is right, and we raid that compound?”
A few heartbeats later Dixon looked at Dede, then Alvarez, and finally Kintrell who was giving him the dead eye stare. He then rose, said, “This is outrageous,” and stormed out of the office.
Dede then said to Alvarez, “Thank you, Agent Alvarez, I need a couple minutes with Agent Kintrell.”
As Alvarez got up to leave, she gave Kintrell the dagger eyes. Oh fuck, thought Kintrell.
Dede waited till Alvarez had left and closed the door. Then the yelling started.
“What the hell is wrong with you, pulling a stunt like that?”
“What?” Kintrell asked innocently. “I was just doing my job.”
“Bullshit. You may be able to handle a stiff like Dixon, but it doesn’t play in this office. That young woman just put her ass on the line for you, Kintrell. What were you thinking?”
“You’re right about Alvarez, Boss. I thought I could protect her by not bringing her along and I regret that. I didn’t think it through. But I’m firmly convinced I’m right about this. I think someone very smart figured out a way to hang this on the mooks in the boonies.”
“How are you going to prove it?” asked Dede.
“We just have to keep pushing, De, nobody’s perfect, they’ll fuck up somehow and we’ll catch it.”
“You’re right, Kintrell. Nobody’s perfect.”
Dede went on.
“By the way, the NSA ran down the location of where that e-mail was sent from. It was a coffee shop with wi-fi in Havre DeGrace, Maryland. The store had security camera footage of the guy. We didn’t get a full-on face shot. He was wearing sunglasses and an Orioles baseball cap. He never went to the counter to order anything. He just plopped down at one of their small tables, his back to the camera. He took out his laptop and e-mailed the document, then got up and left. They checked to see if any street cameras picked anything up but came up empty. We think he had a motorcycle parked out back of the store. One of the staff heard what she thought was the sound of a motorcycle turning over, shortly after he left. Nobody got a good look at his face. He was there and gone in a manner of minutes. He walked kind of hunched over, so he could have been anywhere from five eight to six feet tall.”
“Good trade-craft,” replied Kintrell.
“That’s all for now,” Dede said coldly. “From now on, stick to the goddamned script, Kintrell.”
“Will do.”
“Dismissed.”
After he left Dede’s office he went in search of Alvarez, finding her at her desk. She fixed him with an icy stare.
“Look, Lanny, I’m really sorry about this. I…”
“You were just being Tom Kintrell, super-agent, huh, Kintrell? Leaving us mere mortals to gaze in wonder at your heroic exploits.”
“It wasn’t like that, Lanny, truly, I didn’t want to get you into any trouble if things went sideways.”
“I’m a big girl, Agent Kintrell, I can take care of myself. I don’t need the macho, mollycoddling bullshit. If you don’t think I can handle being your partner, just say so, and we’ll make other arrangements.”
“No, Lanny, I don’t think that at all, I have the utmost respect for your abilities, and this will never happen again. I promise.”
“So you say. Now bring me up to speed.”
Kintrell then related all that had transpired. When he had finished Lanny stared into space for a few moments. “I agree with you, and that means whoever used the rifle had access to that compound, or perhaps broke into it to steal the weapon … but that would be risky … unless …”
“Unless what?” said Kintrell.
“Unless they planted more evidence in the compound, further linking this group to the killings,” said Alvarez.
Kintrell, eyes wide, said, “You’re right, Lanny, you’re absolutely right! I can’t believe I missed that. This raid’s going to be proof positive of their involvement.”
“Let’s think about this for a moment, Tom. What evidence would they leave behind? If they grabbed a weapon from the compound, an M-4 type say, it would make sense to leave another M-4 behind so the guys at the compound wouldn’t realize they were missing a weapon, and we know there were a few M-4s taken when they hit LeJeune.”
“Yeah, that makes perfect sense, Lanny. Could they know beforehand that there would be an AR-15 there? If so, how?”
“It wouldn’t matter, they had to know there would be useable ordnance at that compound, a deer rifle or an AR-15. They could have hidden the M-4 they brought with them somewhere in the compound and grabbed any functional weapon that could shoot true to a two-hundred-yard target. Chances are there would be a record of who purchased the weapon, and if not, they had the soda can with the print and if all that failed, it would be a simple matter to place an anonymous call to our tip line. They just got lucky finding an AR-15 onsite.”
Kintrell mulled it over for a while then said, “That fits, good work partner.”
“So, what do we do about it?” said Alvarez.
“If this raid actually takes place, and evidence is then found and we try to explain it away, it will sound lame. Maybe we should go to Dede now and tell her our theory, then if it works out like we think it will, it will help our case, or at least make us look les
s like conspiracy nuts with tunnel vision.”
“I agree,” said Alvarez.
“One thing is troubling me though, why did this Wyatt character think Norm and I were there to kill him?” said Kintrell.
They went back and forth with this one. “Maybe they’re at war with a rival drug gang?” maybe he’s run afoul of the ALBH?”
“Let’s check his LUDS,” said Alvarez.
She put a priority request on the LUDS (local usage details provided to the police by telecom cos.)
A short time later she had the list. The last call Wyatt received came in from an unknown cell phone user at 1:13 PM that day.
“Tom, what time did you arrest Wyatt?”
“I checked the time as I got out of the car. It was 1:15. I knocked on the door and the goof said, ‘Hold on a minute, I’ll be right there …’ or something like that, then I hear the back door, so I hot-footed around back, and Norm had the guy subdued and on the ground.”
“That phone call might have been a warning that he was about to be arrested,” said Alvarez.
“I don’t see how that’s possible, Lanny. The only other person that knew we were going to brace this guy was Norm, and I didn’t give him all the details. Besides that, he was with me the whole time.”
“Let’s go talk to the gentleman,” said Alvarez.
They descended to the holding area, checked their weapons at the desk and waited in one of the interrogation rooms for Wyatt to be brought in.
Wyatt, wearing handcuffs, entered the room, saw Kintrell and was about to say something when he saw Alvarez.
“Well well, lookee here, this fine-looking cooch my lawyer?” asked Wyatt.
“Please sit down, Mr. Wyatt,” said Alvarez.
Kintrell glared at him. “We’re not here to question you. We’re going to talk. You just listen.”
“Wait a fuckin’ minute, you ain’t my attorney? What kind of bullshit is this?”
“Sit your ass down, Wyatt,” said Alvarez.
Wyatt, taken aback, sat down.
“We have warrants from Virginia on you. There is also the matter of your breaking parole. Felons can’t carry firearms nor cavort with other felons. They also can’t be involved in manufacturing, selling or even using drugs. That’s three strikes right there, which means significant jail time in a less than wholesome environment. Where you’re going, you don’t want to be dropping the soap in the shower. But these three things pale in comparison to the other thing. You know the thing where your rifle was the weapon that put a .223 slug through that Congresswoman’s heart, then ended up in her son’s leg. Juries tend to take a dim view of such shenanigans. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t pull the trigger, you’re an accessory and this is a federal gig now, and that means the needle is on the table. We know you received a phone call shortly before Agent Kintrell and Lieutenant Stryker placed you under arrest. We want to know who called you,” said Alvarez.
Wyatt looked at Alvarez then Kintrell and thought for a minute.
“What’s in it for me if I help you?” said Wyatt.
“That depends on how deep your involvement is,” said Kintrell.
“I ain’t sayin’ shit till I talk to a lawyer.”
Kintrell and Alvarez rose. Alvarez said, “Just so you know, once we leave this room all deals are off. You’re going down, you damn fool, and all the lawyers in the world won’t be able to help you.”
As they approached the door Wyatt said, “Wait, wait just a minute for chrissakes. Give me a minute to think.”
Kintrell and Alvarez returned to the table.
“Look, I weren’t involved in no killings, and whoever says different is a fuckin’ liar. I went to a couple meetings with those guys and sold them the weapon. But that’s it. I ain’t involved in no drug business. If those guys is involved in killing some politician, this is the first I’m hearing about it,” said Wyatt.
“So, Weimar shoots the Congresswoman with your gun to frame you?” said Kintrell.
“Weimar? Weimar just had his damn knee replaced two weeks ago, he been on crutches or a wheelchair since then,” said Wyatt.
Alvarez and Kintrell looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
“Okay, so let’s start from the beginning,” said Alvarez.
“What’s the deal before we get into that?”
“Maybe those warrants in Virginia go away as well as the parole violation, but if there is any evidence you were involved in these killings, that’s a door closer. Your cooperation will be noted when and if you are brought up on charges,” said Kintrell.
“I need more than that man, these fuckers in the ALBH got friends in most of the prisons. They think I’m a rat and my life ain’t worth shit,” whined Wyatt.
“We’ll see what we can do about the prison situation,” said Alvarez.
Wyatt thought about it for a while, then said, “Okay, Weimar called me, said some spics from South America was going to hit the compound tonight, gonna be posing as feds, wanted everyone to come to the compound to work out some sorta plan.”
Kintrell and Alvarez exchanged a quick glance then Alvarez said, “How did Weimar know this?”
“I dunno, I told him I had to jump, ‘cause I seed your squeeze here motoring up the driveway.”
“How many people can he muster?” asked Kintrell.
“Twenty-five, maybe thirty,” said Wyatt.
“What kind of weaponry do they have?” asked Kintrell.
“They got all kinds of shit in that shed. M-4s, m-16s, some deer guns, shotguns, shit man, they even got a mini gun. I’ll tell you something else, they been mining the outside of the perimeter with some bouncing beautys. Them spics gonna be shittin’ ‘emselves once those boys in the compound open up on ‘em.”
Alvarez looked at Kintrell, “Bouncing Beautys?”
“Bouncing Bettys,” Kintrell corrected. “They’re anti-personnel mines about the size of a soup can with an arm that extends upward. At the top of the arm are a few prongs. The mine is buried with only the prongs sticking out of the ground. Somebody steps on the prongs, the weapon arms, when you step off the prongs a small charge is detonated sending the mine straight up till about waist high, then it explodes, shrapnel tearing into whatever and whoever is around it.”
“Time we got a hold of CIRG,” said Alvarez.
“You go see Dede and I’ll contact CIRG, soon as I ask this guy a couple more questions,” said Kintrell.
Alvarez left the room and called Dede as she made her way to the office.
“Let’s just go over a few things,” Kintrell started. “Weimar told you of an attack tonight by some South American gang, pretending to be FBI?”
“Yeah, he said everybody’s coming in, we gotta get prepared …”
“And he didn’t tell you how he knew this?” asked Kintrell.
“No, man, I tole ya, I didn’t have time to shoot the shit, you wuz coming up the driveway.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me about their defenses?” probed Kintrell.
“I think they got some of that body armor and some sort of night vision shit, but I ain’t never seed it.”
“Your weapon, the AR-15, was it ever zeroed to a certain yardage?”
“No, there’s a range these guys use not far from the compound, but it only goes maybe seventy or eighty yards.”
“Any of these guys in the compound have any specialized training, maybe Special Forces or Seals?” asked Kintrell.
“Don’t know for certain, but don’t think so. These guys is just a bunch of shitkickers pretending to be soldiers. Lotta fat fuckers, probably couldn’t run a hundred yards if their life depended on it. Most of ‘em are hunters so they can probably shoot.”
“Where are the mines located?”
“Think they mostly on the south and east sides of the compound. They think an assault most likely come from there, north and east are heavily wooded with a lot of little streams and such running through there.”
“Do you know
where they got the mines?” asked Kintrell.
“Some place out Colorado way, I hear, but don’t know for sure.”
“Do they also have claymore mines?” asked Kintrell.
“What’s ‘at?”
“Never mind. Any other unusual weaponry, grenades or anything more sophisticated, mortar tubes, anything like that?”
“I never seed anything like that.”
“Is there more than one weapons shed?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Okay, they’ll take you back to the holding area now,” said Kintrell, as he left the room and motioned for the guard.
“Hey, what about my lawyer …”
“Working on it,” said Kintrell, as he walked away, removing his cell and punching in T.J. Worthington’s number.
Worthington commanded the CIRG team tasked with assaulting the compound.
“Worthington here.”
“T.J., it’s Tom Kintrell, we need to talk, it’s urgent.”
“I’m in the motor pool and a little pressed for time, Tom.”
“You’re going to want to hear this,” said Kintrell.
Kintrell quickly hit the high points of what he had learned.
“Tom, you’re telling me these assholes have a mini gun, and anti-personnel mines? How good is the information?”
“I got this from some idiot I picked up today. He also claims there’s an operational meth lab about five miles from the compound. Shortly before we nabbed the guy, he says he received a call from Weimar, telling him to get to the compound, they were going to be hit tonight by some South American thugs posing as FBI.”
“Huh?”
“Weimar, as you know, is the guy whose prints were found on the soda can and the guy I picked up, name of Wyatt, is the guy who the AR-15 was registered to.”
“What the fuck!”
“It gets better. Weimar, according to Wyatt, had a knee operation recently, so it would be highly unlikely this guy was running around the woods down there looking to shoot someone,” said Kintrell.
“Have you told Dixon any of this?” asked Worthington.
“No, I wanted to catch you before you went any further with your plans.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Let’s go see Dixon.”
Termination Limits: Tom Kintrell Book 1 (Tom Kintrell Thriller Series) Page 9