Night Moves

by DJ Steele

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Later that day, Julia, Laquita and Megan were seated next to each other at a long table in the FBI’s Washington Headquarters. She was glad she had been given an opportunity to change clothes before the meeting. Those in attendance were dressed to impress.

  The only person she recognized when she entered the room was Detective Mike Shockley. His piercing stare made her look away. It made her uncomfortable which was exactly what he wanted. She knew he was mad she left the crime scene without telling him where she went.

  There were eight other people in the room, men and women of influence and power. The Director of the FBI, the Assistant Director, the Director of National Intelligence, Senior Special Agent for the FBI, the Attorney General, Chief of the Metropolitan Police Department, Detective Shockley and a man who stood near the door and didn’t introduce himself. He was an attractive older man. Average height, of slim build and thick silver hair. She guessed he was in his late fifties. He was dressed in a suit like most of the attendees except his features were stoic, unfazed by all the chatter in the room.

  She hadn’t arranged the meeting, however she was informed who would probably be attending. It wasn’t going to be easy to get a room full of testosterone to listen when she needed to speak.

  A man with thinning gray hair and wire rim glasses perched on his eagle-like nose was instructed to begin by the Director of the FBI.

  "Miss Megan Lipscomb, we need your cooperation. Do you understand?" asked Agent Sid Black.

  "Am I in trouble?"

  "Just tell us what you told Miss Julia Bagal earlier today."

  While interviewing Megan, her statements were electronically recorded. There were a few tense exchanges between Chief Nowakowski and Agent Black. The Assistant Director for the FBI kept reaching over and hitting the off button on the recorder, chastising the men for disrupting the meeting.

  "Do you have the note you allege was on the Speaker’s desk?" asked Agent Black.

  "No. It was sitting on a stack of papers on the Speaker’s desk. All I did was read it."

  "Do you have anything else to connect the Speaker to this crime?"

  "Just that he hasn’t been himself and …"

  Special Agent Black cut her off, "Miss Lipscomb, we’re not talking about just anybody. This is a serious accusation levied against the Speaker of the House. We can’t arrest him solely based on a note you claim to have seen."

  "How would she know the name, Charlotte, if she didn’t see that note?" demanded Shockley.

  "The note alone isn’t enough. I need hard evidence. Not the baseless claims of a jealous secretary."

  "You prick." Shockley raised and locked eyes with Agent Black. Chief Nowakowski yanked Shockley’s arm pulling him back in his seat.

  Julia straightened in her chair, cleared her throat and spoke up, "This meeting was called because we have the evidence. The note with the name hasn’t been released to the public and yet Megan knew that name." She paused making sure all eyes were on her. Then she continued, "And we have a witness who helped the Speaker find the man who ultimately killed Charlotte Bollinger and another victim at the motel."

  The group of men and women glanced at each other quizzically. All except the man standing. He just crossed his arms resting them against his chest.

  "Where is this mystery man. Why didn’t you bring him?" asked Agent Black, his arrogant tone taunting her.

  "Because he’s in jail," Julia replied curtly.

  Agent Black’s face turned as red as the shirt Laquita wore. She saw a grin slide across Shockley’s face.

  "He wants a plea bargain in exchange for his testimony," Julia declared.

  The room erupted in people talking over each other. Julia stood to get their attention. Before they ended this meeting, she had a demand to make.

  It took most of the day before the FBI sent two Special Agents to arrest Speaker Wagner in his hospital room. Laquita had been allowed to go to the jail and talk to Max before his confession was taken. Chief Nowakowski told her Max would be put in protective custody while the Speaker awaited trial. A gag order was placed on everyone in the room until the President was informed and released an official statement.

  Shockley waved his badge at the men guarding the Speaker’s hospital room as he escorted Julia inside. The Speaker, lying in bed cuffed to the rails, stared out the window.

  "Mister Speaker, I’m Detective Mike Shockley. I worked the Willow Oaks Motel homicide case. This is Julia Bagal, a private investigator who helped us solve the case. I believe you two have already met."

  The sunlight streaming through the window was fading fast.

  Wagner took his time shifting his attention to her and Shockley.

  "You just missed my lawyer. I have nothing to say."

  Julia faced Mike. "Ten minutes is all I need."

  He nodded, flashed a look at Wagner, opened the door and walked out.

  "I guess you didn’t hear me. I’ve got nothing to say. Especially to an investigator who is still wet behind the ears," he said angrily.

  Julia moved next to the hospital bed and stared into the Speaker’s eyes.

  "I know who you really are."

  Wagner grunted. "You should. I’m one of the most powerful men in Washington. Second in line to be President. Speaker of the House of Representatives. You can address me as Mister Speaker."

  "Or why don’t I call you Alan Bezrukov? Bezrukov was your parent's real name, before they stole the identity of two dead Americans. Isn’t that correct?"

  She had his attention. The astonished look on his face confirmed her source was right.

  Julia kept talking, "I got suspicious when Charlotte Bollinger’s identity was discovered from her DNA. Same name your assistant, Megan, saw on a note on your desk. A meeting had been set up by the man you hired to kill her at Willow Oaks Motel. She was a freelance reporter that had been snooping around Capitol Hill. She was investigating a rumor that there was a White House mole. According to Megan, Charlotte was asking a lot of questions. Consequently, I asked myself, why would the Speaker be so worried about what Charlotte might discover that he’d have her murdered? This got me thinking about something my grandmother told me happened during the Cold War. A Russian defector gave her a list of the real identities of KGB Illegals planted in America. Sleepers. Your parents’ true identities were on that list."

  "I’m not a fucking sleeper."

  "No, you’re not. Your parents on the other hand were. They were never activated, but you were."

  "You little know nothing prick investigator. You think you got me. You’re naive. I’m not just some low-level peon working in our government. You’re in way over your head."

  "You’re wrong. You’ll be prosecuted for murder and treason."

  "This is politics. This is a major failure of our intelligence community. I know people who’ll never let the truth come out."

  "Yeah. I know people too," Julia said sharply.

  "If I were you, I’d watch my back," he threatened.

  She was done talking.

  Julia turned, stormed out of the hospital room, shaking from anger.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  The sun had been swallowed by the darkness of the evening.

  Hospital visitation hours had come to an end and most departments had moved to minimal staffing till morning.

  There was a cacophony produced by nurses transferring patient information and handing off half-done tasks to the night shift coming onboard.

  She already had her patient information. The older nurse dressed in blue scrubs checked her watch. It had been a long day, but she only had one patient to take care of and then she’d call it a day. Before she started down the hallway, she patted the pocket on her scrubs making sure she had everything she needed. A retractable ID badge was clipped on her upper chest pocket.

  She began to push the vital sign cart along the polished linoleum floors, the wheels rolling smoothly. Not wanting to touch the metal button on
the wall she used her elbow to press, causing the double doors to slowly open. She noticed a young woman dressed in scrubs sitting at the nurse’s station with her head down. The young nurse was probably on her cell phone doing everything but her job, she thought.

  Past the nurse’s station, two men standing guard in front of a hospital room looked in her direction, neither made eye contact. Without slowing her stride, one of the men opened the door allowing her to enter the room.

  "For God sakes, how many times do you need to take my blood pressure?" Wagner snapped.

  He had his bed raised and was watching the news on a television set attached to the wall.

  The nurse parked the vital sign cart, strolled over to his bedside and smiled. She checked the name on his hospital admission bracelet.

  "This will be the last time it’s necessary to check your vitals, Mr. Wagner." Her bright blue eyes sparkled as she gazed at him. Then she returned to the rolling cart, punching in information on a keyboard.

  With her back to him, he said, "I wondered who would come. I assumed it would be the Russians. But I remember you."

  The nurse turned and responded, "I hoped you would." She could not restrain a smile.

  "You’re the woman who was recovering in the hospital room where I met the President. He credited you and your granddaughter with helping to save him and the Vice President’s life."

  "Yes, that’s right. And just like Robert Hanssen, also a traitor who was tasked to find the spy in the FBI ranks, you, Alan Bezrukov were tasked to help find a spy within our government. How ironic both of you were looking for yourselves."

  "Just like I told your granddaughter earlier, you can’t do anything to me. Do you understand the ramifications if any of this came out? Can you imagine the headlines? A Russian spy almost succeeded in becoming the Commander-In-Chief of the United States. Not only would this create fear in America, it would undermine the standing of the U.S. in the eyes of the world. Our government—our President—won’t let this happen."

  "Yes. Again you are right. We do have a dilemma. You, Mr. Bezrukov have put our country in a very difficult situation."

  He glanced nervously when she snapped on latex gloves.

  She continued, "And you have put Russia in a very dangerous position. They have denied any connection between their government and you. You’re a liability to them."

  "Please listen to me," he said, desperately pleading. "If I’m given protection and granted asylum I’ll cooperate with the American authorities. I can give you the name of my handler and provide intelligence on Russia."

  "Your handler is dead. The Russians are quickly cleaning up," she replied calmly.

  Wagner was obviously shaken. His forehead glistened with beads of sweat. He frantically tried to reach for the nurse call button. He discovered it was out of reach of his cuffed wrist. She had moved the button box when she pretended to check his wristband.

  She marched quickly to the side of the bed. "This is your best option. Your comrades won’t be so humane."

  "What are you going to do?" his voice quavering.

  "You’ll die of natural causes. You’re going to have a heart attack."

  "You can’t get away with that. My assistant, Megan knows there’s nothing wrong with my heart."

  "You mean the assistant you tried to murder? I don’t think she’ll be a problem."

  She slipped the syringe from her pocket and began to administer the drug through the needleless port on an existing IV line in his arm.

  Within seconds his tears stopped as the color drained from his face and his hands twitched involuntarily.

  She walked out of the room and disappeared down the hallway.

  The overhead sound system paged Code Blue room 512.

  As soon as Elke stepped outside the main hospital entrance, a car drove up and stopped.

  Elke walked around the back of the car and got in the front passenger seat next to the driver.

  "Is it done?" asked the driver.

  "It is," replied Elke.

  "Any problems?"

  "None that I’m aware of," stated Elke.

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means what it sounds like. We’ll know the success later."

  "That doesn’t sound very reassuring."

  Elke leaned her head back against the headrest. "All of the Speaker’s hospital records have been scrubbed. They’ve been replaced with new health records. The room was sanitized the moment I left. But there are always moving parts to missions like this. I think you should remember that."

  "Do you think this was necessary? Could it have been handled differently?"

  Elke’s replied sarcastically, "A little late to be second guessing, don’t you think?"

  Except for the humming engine, there was silence inside the car.

  Glancing at Elke the driver spoke, "Tell me. We are the good guys, right?"

  "That’s what we tell ourselves. Alan Bezrukov did what he was trained to do. Just like I do."

  The driver shot Elke a look. The silvery haired woman looked tired and closed her eyes.

  Twenty minutes passed without a word exchanged.

  Finally, Elke broke the silence, "It’s not easy doing what I do."

  "Then quit. You’ve sacrificed more than most people have for this country."

  "Perhaps I will."

  "Good."

  "But, I’m so good at my job." Elke smirked.

  "Would you like to stay at my place tonight?"

  "I would," Elke said without hesitation. She paused and then continued, "The Director said you did a good job in the meeting today."

  "Director of FBI?"

  "No, but I’m sure he’d have agreed. Rick Piagno, Director of the CIA."

  "That’s the man who never identified himself in the meeting?"

  "Yes. He told me you were to be commended for helping to discover the Russian mole."

  "Wow. That’s impressive to have the Director of the CIA say that about me." They exchanged a smile. "So, what will he give me? An award? A ceremony? A medal?"

  "I’m proud of you Julia. As far as our government is concerned, what happened, didn’t happen. This has already been buried. Our footprints erased."

  "So, the CIA doesn't give out medals?"

  "No."

  "How about a gift card?"

  Elke started laughing. "Julia you’re going to be a great private investigator."

  Epilogue

  Three Weeks Later

  * * *

  Julia impatiently tapped her wristwatch. Fifteen minutes till her appointment.

  She glanced around the small waiting room. In the far corner, attached to the wall, was a rack full of neatly arranged magazines. The pale green walls had an odd assortment of pictures hanging on them. There was only one other person waiting. An average man sitting across from her with his head down, staring at the iPhone in his hands.

  It had been a little over a month since she’d seen her therapist. She had a lot of baggage in her twenty-nine years of life.

  She mused knowing she was older than twenty-nine. But that’s what her birth certificate had recorded.

  A short breath escaped her lips. She began to retrace what had happened in less than a month of time.

  Mike Shockley was now living in a different time zone. He left the police force instead of being asked to resign. His boss, Chief Nowakowski went to bat for him with Internal Affairs, but this wasn’t the first time he hadn’t followed orders. The very next day, his father had a mild stroke in his home. Luckily, he was going to be okay. Mike made the decision to move with his father back to Texas and let his father live out his remaining years on the ranch he loved. He was unsuccessful trying to buy back the old ranch, but was able to find a smaller spread, as he called it, nearby. Actually, in the same town.

  It was tempting when he asked her to pack up and come with them. They talked about it over dinner one evening. He told her about Terrance Bone, nicknamed T-Bone and Amber Bull. T-Bone was a g
ood friend and a patrol officer. Bull worked as the Crime Scene Investigator and was also a friend. Both had been seriously injured the day the bomb went off at Willow Oaks Motel. T-Bone had been discharged and was on his way to making a full recovery. Bull was not as lucky. He broke down when he told her she had died. She knew he was hanging on to guilt and it drove his decision to move back to Texas.

  She knew about guilt.

  And its side effects.

  She remembered that day in the park when Fly, a friend of Elke, was gunned down by somebody she thought was her friend. She killed the woman, but it was too late. Fly was dead. Guilt was the driving force when she purchased Fly’s investigative business.

  Perhaps it was Elke telling her she was going to be a great investigator that played a part in her declining Mike’s offer to go with him. She had to respect his decision to leave. Before he left, he handed her an envelope with a ticket voucher inside.

  Who knows? Long distance relationships were difficult and challenging but not impossible.

  Maybe she’d go visit.

  Maybe not.

  What she did know was that life rarely turned out the way anyone expected it to.

  Elke stayed almost a week with her. She wasn’t surprised when she woke up one morning and found the note on the kitchen table.

  * * *

  I had to leave for business. Be back when the job is done.

  Love Elke

  P.S. Don’t ever look back.

  * * *

  Her grandmother was a restless soul. She was never going to stay with her for long. She was surprised she stayed as long as she did. The whole week Elke refused to talk about what happened. Julia had no idea if her grandmother felt remorse after administering the fatal dose to the Speaker of the House. Elke was a private person. She accepted that they were different.

  The death of the Speaker of the House was all that dominated news channel for weeks. His funeral drew world leaders and powerful Americans along with hundreds of everyday people. There was one person close to Alan Wagner who did not attend, Megan Lipscomb. She had already left town and went home to Michigan to live with her mother.