by Jon Mills
I have spent my entire career on the tail of crime families and there is a fine line between that which is right and that which is wrong. You don’t understand that. You will never understand that, as you are too busy navel gazing or you’ve got your head stuck so far up your boss’s ass, you can’t see the forest for the trees.
Isabel was six floors above the lobby when she hit the button for the fourth floor.
The elevator jerked before the doors slid open. She stepped out into the bustling corridor and made her way down to Simon Thorpe’s office. When she entered he was in the middle of a conversation with three higher-ups.
“Ah, here she is. We were just speaking about you.”
The two men stood and extended their thanks for her work on the case. He put up a finger to them and excused himself. He strong-armed her out of the room and then smiled.
“Isabel. You think you could come back in half an hour? I just need to get this meeting out of the way.”
She turned and reached for a newspaper that was on a desk.
“What’s the meaning of this?” She pressed it against his chest. He took a moment to look at it.
“That? Yeah, I have got to say, Baker, for a moment I thought you were going to return empty-handed but you did us proud.”
“It’s completely skewed.”
“No. The FBI was there.”
“But there is no mention of Jack Winchester or his involvement.”
“For good reason. We still have to get through our interview with him. In due course we will let the media know more, if required.”
“If required? They think they already have their story.”
“And it’s a good one.”
“For the FBI.”
Thorpe placed his arm around Baker. “Look, the spin is a little different but the outcome is still the same. We got our man. We got our girl. And we managed to stop a group of lunatics in the process. So it’s not exactly the truth.”
“You’re telling me. So the media is meant to believe that the FBI killed innocent people?”
“Innocent? Those people weren’t innocent, Baker. They held people captive. They were involved in multiple murders. And let’s not forget they took up arms against you.”
“Against Winchester.”
He studied her face as if trying to decode what she was getting at.
“So we left out a few details. We all make mistakes.”
“We all make mistakes?”
Isabel snorted and untangled herself from him and began walking away.
“Where are you going, Isabel?”
“Home.”
“Sure. No problem. Take as much time as you need off.” Then he paused. “Actually, I think I will need you in tomorrow. We still aren’t making any headway with Winchester and we still have a shitload of paperwork to clear up before we ship him back to New York for processing. Perhaps you can get through to him.”
“Sure,” she said without turning around.
“I don’t know what I would do without you. Again, great job, Isabel.”
“That’s Agent Baker to you,” she said as she slammed the door behind her.
Hot water poured over her face and streamed down her body later that night. Isabel had been in the shower for the past ten minutes. Her slim body showed signs of bruising from her time in Peru. As she watched the water curve around her toes and spiral down the drain her mind drifted back to a conversation with Detective Banfield.
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that life is just black and white, agent. There’s a whole lot of color in between. In your rush to see justice, let’s hope you aren’t color-blind to what you think is the wrong color.”
Isabel ran hands over her face to keep the water out of her eyes. The panes of glass on the shower fogged up and she ran a finger down it as she pondered all he had said the multiple times they had spoken.
“Have your superiors told you why they want him?”
“Somewhat.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“If they are working in your best interest or their own.”
Isabel shut off the water and stepped out on to the cold tiled floor. Though she had spent the better part of a year chasing Winchester down, she didn’t feel a sense of satisfaction. There was no payoff and to see the bureau spin the story the way they had infuriated her. She wasn’t expecting them to paint a picture of Jack Winchester as a hero but having them bask in the glory of a mission that few even knew about pissed her off. She shook her head at the thought of those in the office congratulating her. They had no idea until Thorpe announced it and the media plastered it across the papers.
There was not a single mention of Winchester. The whole thing focused on the FBI’s daring rescue of the daughter of a wealthy Chicago businessman and the task force being called in to bring down a group accused of hate crimes and murder.
Why hadn’t they mentioned him? It was obvious. They were covering their ass for past mistakes. They had fucked up in New York and getting Winchester was just part of the cleanup. They were tying up loose ends. Winchester and his associates were loose ends. Nothing more. They didn’t care what happened as long as they got the information they needed to finish what they had begun.
“So we left out a few details. We all make mistakes.”
Isabel cringed at the thought of Thorpe’s words. She sat in her comfy dressing gown running a brush through her dark hair. She pulled up the Internet and did a search on Danielle Lefkofsky. The FBI might have released a statement that didn’t include all the facts but no doubt other media outlets had interviewed the Lefkofskys. After a few seconds she brought up an article by an online news site that had interviewed her father not long after he said she was missing. Her father had stated clearly that he wasn’t getting help from the FBI or local police because she was over the age of eighteen and there was no evidence to lead them to believe a criminal act had occurred. Her father had slammed the FBI.
No wonder the FBI gave the media a different story.
Still, there was no mention of Jack Winchester.
As Isabel settled in for an early night, she chewed over every word Detective Banfield had said along with Thorpe’s final comments. Most of all she thought about Jack and what he had done for her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Very little sleep was to be had that night. By eight-thirty the next morning, Isabel already had a coffee in her hand and was on her way into the Florida field office. They had been holding Jack for questioning in the hopes he would provide key information on the New York Mafia. According to Thorpe they had got zero out of him beyond him repeating the same line.
“I want to see a lawyer.”
They didn’t want lawyers involved. That only meant restrictions, attention they didn’t want and questions they couldn’t answer. Right now they needed this guy out of their hair. The interviews weren’t even meant to be happening. It was the very reason why they hadn’t mentioned his name to the media.
It was Sunday and there was a skeleton crew working the shift. One agent was monitoring and recording the current interview behind a one-way glass while the other was in with Jack. By the time Isabel got there she noticed that he didn’t look as if he had slept.
She stood behind the glass sipping her coffee. Cooper wasn’t meant to be in but had phoned her the previous night to see if she was okay and said he would be there if she wanted the support. She agreed. He genuinely seemed worried about her after she had left so abruptly.
“You really think you can get something out of him?” Cooper asked.
“Who knows?”
Cooper turned to the agent who had been working the night shift and told him he could leave. Cooper took over while Isabel prepared to head in and speak with Jack. To say she was a little nervous would have been an understatement. She hadn’t spoken to him since they had come back from Peru. It had been less than seventy-two hours.
“You going to be oka
y in there?” Cooper asked. Isabel nodded and glanced down at the recording equipment as Cooper set it up. Isabel gazed through the window at Jack who was sitting behind a table with his hands out in front of him. His wrists were handcuffed to a chain that went through the middle of the table and was secured to the ground.
He turned his head and looked in the direction of the window. For a brief second she could swear he was able to see her but that was impossible. She swallowed hard, second-guessing what had been spinning around in her head all night.
“Is it all ready?” she asked referring to the unit that would record video and audio.
“It’s all on.”
She took a sip of coffee and placed it down. She went to say something about how the interview would be conducted when she purposely knocked her coffee onto the unit. It went everywhere, mostly over Cooper’s lap.
“Oh shit!”
He jerked back in his seat and jumped up wiping it off with anything within arm’s length. He used some papers, then said he needed to go to the washroom. As coffee dripped off the recording unit and all over the floor, Isabel offered to help but he looked too pissed.
“Just go in and conduct the interview, I’ll be back in five.”
She nodded, watching him leave the room. Once he was gone she turned around and looked at the unit, the recording light was off. Hopefully damaged by the coffee. She took a deep breath before entering the interview room.
Jack immediately looked up and met her gaze. She paused at the door and cleared her throat. She closed it behind her, set a folder down and took a seat across from him. She reached across and unlatched his handcuffs.
“I don’t think we’ll need those, will we?” she asked.
Jack unhooked his wrists and rubbed them. Isabel glanced down and opened the folder in front of her, took out a pen and clicked the top.
“Right, we don’t have long. I only have a few questions for you.”
He leaned back in his chair. She looked up at the clock.
“How did you escape the building in Los Angeles?”
He frowned, probably expecting her to grill him with questions about his involvement in the Mafia.
“What?”
“We knew you were in that building. How did you escape without being noticed?”
He leaned forward and looked at the one-way panel.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Three minutes, Jack. How did you get out?”
He squinted at her and then looked at the one-way mirror again.
“Don’t worry, this interview is not being recorded.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, if you must know. Once the fire alarms and sprinklers went off and the fire brigade came in, I used one of their suits. I didn’t kill him, just knocked him out.”
“I should have figured.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Second question. Why did you go down to help Mr. Lefkofsky’s daughter?”
“I think you know.”
“It wasn’t for money, Jack as you initially rejected his offer.”
She glanced at the clock again.
“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” He asked noticing that she was on edge.
“So?” she continued her questioning without answering him.
“Because no one else was going to help.”
“And the young girl and boy in Los Angeles?”
“The same.”
“And finally, Louisiana. Why did you go to all the trouble to help me after I was shot?” she paused. “You could have left me to die.”
He hesitated before he replied. “Because that’s not my way.”
Her eyes flicked again to the clock. She closed the folder and rose from the table.
“I need you to answer this as it will help me after I have done this.”
She paused for a second before asking the question. She wanted to know the involvement of two key members of the Mafia and where they might find their operation in New York. They had managed to fly under the radar for a long time.
“I…”
“Thirty seconds Jack.”
He hesitated and then replied with the answer she wanted.
“Thank you.”
She turned and walked back to the door and unlocked it.
“Agent Baker.”
She cast a glance over her shoulder.
Jack held up his hands, which were free of cuffs.
She cocked her head and shrugged.
“We all make mistakes.” Isabel walked out and purposely left the door ajar. As she passed by the fire alarm system on the wall, she stopped, looked back over her shoulder and then yanked the red metal handle down.
The alarm went off and sprinklers burst sending water everywhere.
She continued on her way down the corridor and ran into Cooper coming in the other direction. He was panting hard and his shirt was soaked.
He tossed his hands up in the air. “Could this day get any worse?”
“I don’t know, let’s see,” she replied with a smirk thinking of what Thorpe would say when he found out that Winchester was gone.
“Did you get what you need from him?” he asked as they followed behind other agents who were filling up the corridor and streaming out of the building.
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
THANKS FOR READING
Debt Collector Book #5
Book 6: Debt Collector Prey is now Available
Please take a second now to leave a review. Even a few words is really appreciated. Thanks kindly, Jon.
A Plea
Thank you for reading Debt Collector 5: Angel of Death. If you enjoyed the book, I would really appreciate it if you would consider leaving a review. Without reviews, an author’s books are virtually invisible on the retail sites. It also lets me know what you liked. You can leave a review by visiting the book’s page. I would greatly appreciate it. It only takes a couple of seconds.
Thank you — Jon Mills
Readers Team
Thank you for buying Debt Collector 5: Angel of Death.
Building a relationship with readers is one of the best things about writing. I occasionally send out a newsletter with details on new releases and subscriber only special offers. For instance, with each new release of a book, you will be alerted to it at a subscriber only discounted rate.
Click here to receive special offers, bonus content, and news about Jon’s new books, sign up for the newsletter.
About the Author
Jon Mills is originally from England but now resides in Canada. He is the author of The Debt Collector series, Lost Girls, I’m Still Here, The Promise, the Undisclosed Trilogy, and many other books under pen names. If you haven’t joined the Jon Mills Private Facebook Group you can request to join by clicking here now. This gives readers a way to chat with Jon, see cover reveals, and stay updated on upcoming releases. There is also his main facebook page below if you want to browse.
www.jonmills.com
[email protected]