A Dangerous Identity

by Russell Fee

  “Why all this cloak-and-dagger secrecy?” ask Dempsey.

  “I believe that my office and phone may be bugged and my Wi-Fi and computers hacked. Whoever kidnapped Max knew where I had put the hard drive and when I was away from the station and Julie could be there alone. They even knew there were two flash drives with the hard drive. I want whatever is on this flash drive only to be between the two of us.”

  “I can have your office, phone, and computers swept clean by a team from Detroit. That would take care of the problem,” said Dempsey. “There’d be no further need for all this rigmarole.”

  “No,” said Callahan. “I want everything left as is.”

  Dempsey eyed Callahan as if he were a magician about to perform a card trick. “What have you got up your sleeve, Matt?” he said.

  Chapter 68

  At Max’s urging, Callahan hurled the frisbee as hard as he could; and he and Julie watched it sail down the beach as the dog and Max tore after it. They all had decided to have a walk together before dinner and chose the state forest trail down the road from the house that meandered to a strip of beach.

  Again, the dog and Max were inseparable, each so aware of the other’s presence that, like a pair of Olympic figure skaters, they moved in unison as a single organism. And their emotions didn’t mirror each other’s as much as spring from a single source. Julie marveled at the effect the dog was having on Max. He slept soundly, the dog at his feet on the bed. He smiled more, running with the dog on the beach or tossing a Frisbee into the surf and stomping after it with the dog to see who got to it first. Max never won, and that was fine with him. And Max was laughing again, big belly laughs when the dog would steal bacon from Callahan’s breakfast plate and drop it in Max’s lap under the table.

  And the dog knew even before Max did when a dark memory of the kidnapping began to crystalize in Max’s mind. It would leap up until his snout was in Max’s face and push on Max’s chest with its paws, almost knocking Max backwards and refocusing his attention on the present. The dog was a godsend, and thanks to it, Julie had felt that Max could to return to his job at the Adult Day Care Center. But she worried about their separation and considered asking the Center if the dog could be with Max at his job. Things were going so well for her and Max on the island that it shocked her when Callahan proposed she and Max visit her cousin in Ann Arbor.

  “But why, Matt?”

  The dog returned with the frisbee and circled the two of them before dropping it at Callahan’s feet. Callahan picked it up and tossed it over Max’s head. The dog scampered past Max and leaped to catch it before it floated to the ground.

  “It’ll just be for a few days, a week maybe. I can’t tell you why, except I want you and Max safe; and I need to have my mind free of worry about the two of you,” he said.

  “What’s going on? If you’re worried about Max and me, then you might be in danger; and you think we will be too. If that’s true, I need to know it. You can’t keep me in the dark. Not after what’s happened.”

  Callahan stopped walking and let Max and the dog get farther up the beach. “Okay. I haven’t said anything to you because I believe our office is bugged and maybe our house too.”

  “What?” said Julie. “Who, why?”

  “Just hear me out. Before Volkov died out on the lake, he said something to me and Amanda. He said he was going to use the hard drive we found to lure Susan Gibbons’ killers out into the open. Nick found a flash drive that he’d forgotten he’d used to transfer data from the hard drive. I want to use that flash drive as bait to lure the killers to me.”

  “No, Matt. No. It’s too dangerous. Look how many people have already died. Volkov was a professional killer, and they were still able to kill him. I can’t lose you. I won’t.” Julie’s voice had risen to a shout, and Max and the dog had turned and were looking at her and Callahan.

  “Calm down. Please,” he said. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, hugging her tightly. “I don’t want to lose you either or Max. I’ve thought this through. Amanda and I will have all the help we need from Dempsey and his agents. It has to be done. And you can help me most by taking Max and yourself to your cousin’s. Take the dog too.”

  Julie pushed herself out of Callahan’s arms and turned away from him. “It’s never going to end is it, Matt? This worry and fear,” she said.

  Chapter 69

  “The data from the hard drive were encrypted twice—an encryption of an encryption, a double layer—and the original encryption was of Arabic. That’s why it took a while for the team in Quantico to unravel all the data, but it did. And they caused quite a stir at headquarters in DC and at Justice. The data had to be analyzed and interpreted, their impact assessed, and their value determined. I didn’t get back to you sooner because I had to be briefed on it all.” Dempsey leaned back from the picnic table and twisted his torso so that he could look over the split-rail fence and survey the lake. “I like it here. It’s secluded and peaceful, and the view’s terrific.”

  Callahan chuffed in exasperation. “Well, go on. What did the data say? What was on the hard drive?”

  Dempsey turned back to face Callahan. “The data on the flash drive were incomplete and fragmented, but, in a nutshell, here’s what our analysts were able to piece together: It appears that money from three banks in Dubai was being funneled through Bland’s corporation and philanthropical foundations to certain associations, political action groups, and election campaigns. It also appears that eight individuals benefited from these payouts: the governor of Michigan and seven senior members of the Michigan legislature. For example, key projects in their constituencies were funded, campaign coffers filled, and travel financed.” Dempsey paused.

  “So, money was being laundered,” said Callahan.

  “I said it appears that money was being funneled through Bland’s company. We can’t prove it was being laundered, not yet. Bland’s company makes billions, and the way the money flows into and out of the company makes it a perfect vehicle for laundering. It buys startups. Then it rebrands them as its own, resells them, or strips the technology and improves it through research and development. His company also repurposes and sells the improved technology. Or it buys and kills startups that look as if they will compete successfully with products owned by Bland. Companies in Dubai may be legitimately purchasing his products or financing his research. The United Arab Emirates is big into technology.

  “The payouts from Bland’s company and foundations also appear legitimate.” Dempsey shrugged. “But I think not. The eight individuals have one important thing in common: they’re all vigorous proponents of legislation approving drilling for oil and natural gas in Lake Michigan. If we add into the mix the UAE’s interest in investing in foreign oil production, then we may be looking at money laundering, mail fraud, and banking fraud to conceal the manipulation of a state legislature by a foreign individual or government. But to prove that, we would have to get legal authority to trace the money and invade the records of foreign and domestic financial institutions, corporations, and individuals. Do you know what it would take to do that?” The question was obviously rhetorical, so Callahan didn’t respond.

  Dempsey dangled the flash drive over the table and then cupped it in his hand. “This alone would not be enough to get us through the door,” he said.

  Callahan shook his head. “But none of this tells us who killed Susan Gibbons or Jackson,” he said.

  “No, it doesn’t,” said Dempsey, but he hesitated long enough before responding to signal indecision.

  Callahan picked up on it. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Something you think I should know. What is it?” he demanded.

  Dempsey took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What I’m going to tell you is highly confidential. Do not share it with anyone. Lives as well as the eventual success of a major criminal investigation depend on your silence. You understand. Right?” Callahan nodded, and Dempsey continued. “We learned throug
h Susan Gibbons that money from her arm of the Thailand human-trafficking trade was being deposited in banks in Dubai. That wasn’t surprising. The human-trafficking trade is huge and snakes far beyond Thailand, including into the US and other major countries. And most of the money from the trade is deposited in Dubai, which is the hub for the flow of that money. We’re talking vast sums—almost unimaginable. However, through her testimony and other evidence, we were able to identify specific banks in Dubai. They’re the ones on the flash drive. But we don’t have enough evidence to establish a strong probability that the money from those banks is money from the trade that is being laundered, especially now that Gibbons is dead. Unfortunately, the data on the flash drive are missing that information.”

  “What sort of evidence would you need?” asked Callahan.

  “It’s not a stretch to imagine that Gibbons knew what was on the computer when she took it. That means she knew who possessed the computer or had access to the information on it. If she were alive, she could tell us who that was. That’s the person we need to identify in order to make the connections we need. But without Gibbons . . . ” Dempsey didn’t finish his thought, but instead, dropped the flash drive on the table as if tossing away an extinguished match.

  Callahan reached for the flash drive and picked it up. “That’s who killed Susan Gibbons, had Jackson murdered, and Max kidnapped,” Callahan said. “I think I know how to find that person.”

  Chapter 70

  A simple plan Callahan had said and explained. Whoever bugged his office and phone might still be listening. For their benefit, he would stage receiving from Nick the flash drive. He would then call Dempsey with the discovery. Dempsey would feign recognizing its importance and propose flying out to the island to retrieve it. Callahan would drive from the station to the airport to deliver the flash drive to Dempsey when he landed. The attempt to grab the bait would happen between the station and the airport. They would be ready for whomever the bait lured. Simple. Except that in Dempsey’s experience, simple plans got complicated fast. Despite his reservations, he had pressed hard for approval to use his agents in executing Callahan’s plan. He was now back on the island with the result.

  Dempsey faced Callahan over the picnic table with the look of a bearer of bad news, which he was. “The Detroit office won’t approve such an operation. I even took it up to the bureau in DC. Still a no-go. It’s just too damn dangerous, Matt. You must know that,” he said.

  “How’s it any different from a raid? You conduct them all the time, and they can be just as dangerous,” said Callahan.

  “Look, in a raid we know who the targets are. We can pick the place and the time. We can determine how the raid will be carried out to minimize the possibility of injury to our agents or to innocent bystanders. We’re prepared and in control. What you’re suggesting is totally out of control. We don’t know who the targets are; where, when, and how they may choose to strike; and how we should respond. It’s a hair’s breadth shy of suicide.”

  “It’s the only way to wrench them into the open. If we don’t do this, they’ll stay immune from capture. We might never get them,” argued Callahan.

  “Maybe, maybe not. If we keep digging for evidence, we may unearth enough to nail them.”

  “That’s not going to happen unless you trace the money, and you don’t have enough evidence to get authority for that. Even if you did, we’re talking about money laundering and financial fraud, not murder.”

  Dempsey shrugged his shoulders and spread his arms as a silent signal that there was nothing more he could do.

  “Pete, I’m after them for murder; and I’m going to get them with or without your help,” said Callahan.

  Dempsey rose from the picnic table and walked over to the split-rail fence. He leaned over it and looked down to the beach for a moment before turning around. The muscles in his face were taught and had hardened his features. “Don’t do this, Matt. Please,” he said.

  * * *

  Dempsey avoided the deck of the ferry and chose an interior seat in the lower lounge area. Only two passengers occupied seats, and Dempsey quickly realized why. The low glass windows that stretched along both sides of the lounge didn’t provide the open view of the water that the upper deck benches did. And even opened, the windows struggled to ventilate the lounge with the cool air that swept over the ferry. Instead, the mechanical clatter of three vending machines and the incessant clanging of the metal doors to the two lavatories filled the room. But none of this mattered to him. He wanted the solitude.

  He pushed his back against the faux-leather chair until it reclined to the angle he wanted and tried to relax. The gentle vibration and the rising and falling thrum of the engines as they pushed the boat up and glided it down the swells helped. He was soon lulled into a mild trance where his thoughts mingled, tangling in random jumbles until they spun a single thread.

  He envied Callahan the freedom he had to act unfettered by artificial restraints. Callahan’s role as sheriff enabled him to exercise independent judgement, be proactive, and operate expeditiously. Next to Callahan, Dempsey felt professionally impotent. As he rose in the bureau, he faced an increasing mass of rules: often contradictory, never discretionary, always confining. The mass grew and menaced his authority until his judgement became infested with debilitating constraints, until his decisions twisted to avoid punitive consequences, until his leadership dwindled into micromanagement, until the only way he played it was safe, until he lost sight of who he was—a predator who needed to be in search of its prey.

  The ferry passed its sister ship carrying passengers to the island, and both boats sounded a triple blast from their horns as a hello to each other. Dempsey sat up and watched from the window as the other ship glided by in the opposite direction, passengers waving from the decks. His mind had settled, the turmoil congealing into a rock-hard resolution. He would not abandon Callahan. If he could not employ the resources of the bureau, then he would go it alone, even if it meant his career. He would be the hunter again.

  Chapter 71

  Nick had performed his part well, again presenting Callahan with the newly discovered flash drive. This time the performance took place in Callahan’s office, and this time included Nick’s claim that the drive contained most of the data from the hard drive. Callahan had credibly feigned surprise and excitement and had called Dempsey from his office with the news. Dempsey had played his role like a noted thespian, immediately recognizing its importance as evidence and stressing the need to preserve an unassailable chain of custody. He didn’t want to risk receiving it by mail or messenger. He would fly to the island to pick it up personally—tomorrow. He would call back when he had scheduled the flight. When he did, Callahan would tell him that he would be waiting for him at the airport with the flash drive.

  Callahan hoped that the charade had accomplished two things: revealing the bait and accelerating the reaction time. He wanted whoever was coming for him and the flash drive to have no time to prepare properly. They would have to wing it: off balance, unsuspecting, and vulnerable. That was the plan anyway. He also hoped that they’d been listening. It all depended on that.

  * * *

  Amanda unfolded the map and spread it on the metal table. She and Callahan had driven to the small park beside the marina. Callahan chose the spot because it was uncrowded but had enough ambient noise to ensure that their conversation would be undetected. She bent over the map and traced west with her finger along the road out of town to Sutter Road and then south until she reached its intersection with Millrace Road. “You’re pretty much okay until here,” she said, keeping her finger on the intersection. “Mostly open grassy fields and farms until you hit the state forest at this intersection. The road to the airport goes through it. The road is gravel so you’re going to have to go slow. You’re an easy moving target then for anyone with a rifle hiding in the woods. You won’t be able to see them. You’d be a sitting duck.” She’d been trying for days to discourage Callahan
from this gamble, ever since he had told her of it. He’d simply ignored her, just like he was ignoring her warnings now.

  Callahan stood next to Amanda, stooped over the map at almost her level. He turned his head toward her. “They’re going to ambush the cruiser, make sure I have the flash drive, and then authenticate it. If it’s not real, they’ll want to know where the real one is. They need me alive for that. So, I want your help in figuring out where that’s most likely to happen,” he said. “Now where do you think they’ll show up?”

  “According to our plan, Dempsey is scheduled to take the first flight from Charlevoix to the island. He won’t be on that flight of course. He’ll already be here on the island with us. That will be early in the morning, and there’ll be almost no traffic to and from the center of the island where the airport is. It’s pretty isolated there, just the two airport runways and a couple of farms. You could be the only car on Millrace Road at that time. I’d say it’s going to happen here.” Amanda pointed to where Millrace Road took a sharp bend south and then curved back west. “When you make the turn here, you have to slow way down; and you’re invisible to any traffic coming from both the east and west. If they can somehow stop you there, they can grab the flash drive and get off the island fast.”

  “How can they do that? They’re in the middle of the island on the only road there,” said Callahan.

  “Do you see this trail?” Amanda put her finger on a faint dotted line that began just off the road at the beginning of the curve and meandered northwest to a point about a half mile from the shore.