by Leigh Barker
“Maybe, but I don’t have a dog, I don’t have a woman who cheats on me, and I don’t have an old Ford pickup, so it kinda goes over my head.”
“So?” Kelsey said, sitting back in her seat.
“So what?”
“So what’s the change of plan.”
“Let’s go and ask the geek to check some bank accounts.”
She frowned. “But you want to see his.”
“True, but what he doesn’t do will tell us more than what he does.”
She thought about it and nodded. “I get that.”
“And he can check girl-geek’s bank account while he’s at it.”
Ed turned his monitor off as they entered the lab, but it was already too late.
“That stuff’ll make you blind,” Ethan said.
“I can afford to lose one eye,” Ed said, and grinned.
At least he was open about his little proclivity.
“What can I do for you this fine December afternoon?” he said.
“You’re in a good mood,” Kelsey said, and moved a pile of papers and comic books off a chair, looked at it and decided to remain standing.
Ethan put his finger on Ed’s chin and turned his attention from Kelsey’s blouse. “Want you to look at activity in a couple of bank accounts.”
Ed sniffed. “If I could do that, do you think I’d be working for a living?”
A smart-ass. Everybody loves a smart-ass.
“I’d say that’s a yes, or you’d be keeping your hands over your ass in the state pen by now.”
Kelsey mouthed state pen? But let it go. The creep had been ogling her body again. It made her feel like she needed a shower.
Ed challenged Ethan to a staring competition, which lasted about two seconds.
“Okay, okay,” he said, and pressed a few keys before turning the monitor back on. It showed the NCIS search page. “With all this government technology, I can access some bank accounts, but purely professionally and always under supervision.”
“Yeah, right.” Ethan put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, because touching clearly freaked him out.
Ed shook his shoulders to signal that he was uncomfortable with human contact. Ethan took that on board. And left his hands where they were.
“Which accounts?” Ed said, eager to get it over with and return to more important matters.
“Let’s start with girl-geek,” Ethan said.
Ed took his hands off the keyboard and stared at him, lost.
“He means Lisa Heart, at the FBI. Do you know her?” Kelsey said.
He gave her a double take. “You mean the Lisa?”
“I guess so,” Ethan said. “If she’s about twenty and looks like a cheerleader.”
He nodded hard enough to do his neck permanent damage. “And you want me to look at her bank account?”
“Unless you can access the webcam in her bedroom,” Kelsey said. It was a joke. A poor joke she instantly regretted, particularly since his eyes glazed over and he slipped into a fantasy world.
Ethan pulled the chair Kelsey had cleared and sat next to him, close enough that their arms touched. Ed snapped out of it and moved to his left a little. Ethan followed and gave the boy a big smile. Friends forever.
Ed pulled the keyboard closer, tipping empty food cartons, Coke cans, rubber-band balls, and a mug with a picture of Homer Simpson on it onto the floor. Ethan liked that mug and was sorry to see it go, but he’d learnt to deal with casualties.
Ed did geek things, and a few minutes later, Lisa’s bank account details were listed on the screen. Kelsey leaned over Ed and her breasts brushed his ear. She scanned the list.
“No more than I’d expect from a government employee,” she said.
“Then she’s broke,” Ethan said.
“Near enough,” she said, and released the poor boy from his torment by standing upright.
“Are we done here?” Ed said, shifting uncomfortably.
“One more,” Ethan said, and waited a moment for effect. “Yours.”
“What?” Ed almost shouted, and started to stand.
Ethan put his hand on the geek’s knee and pressed him back into his seat.
“Why do you want to see my account?” He licked his lips, an act that might indicate guilt, or dry lips. Time would tell.
“Just do it,” Kelsey said. “You’ve nothing to hide, right?”
“No, no. Of course not. Why would I? I don’t get out much, so why would you want to see my bank? It’s not like—”
Ethan tapped the monitor.
Ed took a long breath and bowed to the inevitable. He didn’t need to hack his own account, and a moment later his details overlaid Lisa’s.
“See,” he said a little breathlessly. “I’ve got nothing to hide. I—” He followed Ethan’s pointing finger and froze.
“I don’t know anything about that!” He was stammering. “I’ve never seen it before!”
“You’ve had fifty thousand dollars in your bank for over a week and you didn’t notice?” Kelsey said.
“I don’t know where it came from,” Ed said, leaning towards the screen as if closer inspection would explain it. “It wasn’t there last time I looked.” Then he had an idea to explain it. “If I’d known it was there, I’d be on a beach someplace watching the gir… the sea.” As an explanation, it fell a little short.
Ethan moved his finger across the screen to the deposit date. “A week, kid.” He gave him a smile to settle him. As a lion might smile at an antelope before dinner.
“It’s been planted.”
A brilliantly original explanation.
“Of course it has,” Ethan said. “People are always planting huge sums of money in my account. It can be so annoying. Right?”
Ed stared at the screen with his mouth open almost as wide as his eyes. He turned slowly to Ethan and shook his head. His mouth moved as if he was trying to say something, but only little squeaks issued forth.
Ethan looked up at Kelsey. “I think he’s surprised at something.”
“Yeah,” Kelsey said, leaning on the desk and peering at the transaction list as if it might have changed since it came up. She lifted her hands and stared at them as though she’d put them in dog poop. “What in God’s name have you been doing here?”
Ed blinked slowly twice. “Barbecue sauce. Lee Win’s char siu pork.”
Kelsey wiped her hands on his shoulder and regretted it instantly. He was warm, and wet.
“I don’t know nothing about no money,” Ed said.
Ethan tutted. “You’ve been reading too many gangster comics. And the word is nuttin’… I don’t know nuttin’, and with a bit of an Italian accent.” He turned in the sticky chair. “You believe him?”
Kelsey stopped looking for something to wipe her hands on and shrugged. “It’s a lot of money. Enough to tempt somebody to bend the rules.”
“I didn’t. I haven’t!” Ed started to get up again, and Ethan put his hand on his knee again.
“Okay,” Ethan said as Ed flopped back into his chair. “Convince me.”
Ed nodded. “Yes. Err… how?”
“Do your stuff.” Ethan waved his hand and pulled a face. “Not the porn stuff, God no.” He pointed at the screen. “Tell me where the money came from.”
Ed nodded hard enough to give himself a headache. “Follow the money, right?”
Ethan and Kelsey exchanged a look.
“If you can,” Kelsey said.
Ed looked a little worried. “And say I can’t? What’ll happen to me?”
“Hey, don’t worry,” Ethan said, enjoying himself more than was decent. “You’ll get a place to live and free meals. And a good friend, a really, really good friend. You’ll want to call him Bubba.”
Ed’s fingers flew to the keyboard.
Ethan sat and watched the screen jumping from page to page for a few moments; then his attention span was exhausted and he got up and wandered around the untidy room. Technical Services was written backwards on the door glass. �
��This department, it’s just you?” he asked, without really caring.
Ed grunted and kept on track. After a moment the question elbowed its way into his consciousness and he glanced back over his shoulder. “No, not just me, there’s a team. They work somewhere else in the building.”
“They don’t like you?” Ethan said.
“What? Hell, I don’t know, I never talk to them.” He leaned forward to examine some data, then moved on. “They’re jealous because I’m better than they are.”
“Yeah, right, I see that.” Ethan lifted a porn magazine between his thumb and finger, waved it at Kelsey, and dropped it back onto the filing cabinet. “You getting there?” He wiped his fingers on his pants and the corner of his mouth did an Elvis impression.
“Nearly. I… just… need… to… ah!”
“Ah’s good, right?” Kelsey said, almost leaning on the desk and whipping her hands away from it.
“Yes, it’s good.” Ed pointed at the monitor. “I give you my benefactor.”
Ethan stepped up behind him and looked over his shoulder. “So, what’s that?”
“That, my large frightening marine, is the FBI,” Ed said, and tapped the screen.
“Jesus!” Kelsey said.
“Exactly,” Ethan said. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
Kelsey sat opposite Teddy at the steel table in the FBI interview room, caught Ethan’s eye and nodded towards the camera above the door. Ethan took his MTech out of his pocket, reached up and cut the wires. Willful damage of federal property. He’d offer to pay, if he got caught.
“It makes no sense,” Kelsey said, and rolled the styrofoam cup between her palms.
Teddy pulled his chair closer to the table. “It makes perfect sense.”
Ethan sat on the third side of the table and just for a moment looked as though he was going to carve his name into the paintwork with his knife, but thought better of it, snapped the blade closed and dropped it into his pocket. “How so?” he asked the two people watching him like he was a delinquent kid.
“Despite the increase in spending on security,” Teddy said, “every agency is still vying for a bigger slice of the pie.”
Kelsey tasted the coffee in the styrofoam cup and pulled a face. “That why the FBI’s saving money on coffee?” She swirled it and eyed it suspiciously. “Agencies have always competed for the biggest buck. Nothing new,” she said, without taking her eyes off the oily liquid.
“True,” Teddy said, “but right now the prize is huge and failure to grab it political suicide.” He glanced at Ethan, maybe in case he was whittling on the furniture, but he was just watching and probably listening.
“Since nine-eleven the spending on homeland security has increased three hundred percent and more.”
“So what? There are more bad men out there we need to monitor. And kill,” Ethan said.
“Also true, but right now the security agencies are butting heads to see who gets to be number one. Head honcho, so to speak.”
“And who’s head is butting best?” Kelsey said.
“Hard to say, but one thing’s certain, these… murders…” He raised his eyebrows. “… of the senator and, to a lesser extent, the military leaders have scared the boys on the Hill. Soldiers getting killed is in their job description, but no politician wants to be even slightly threatened, and they’re willing to throw lots of tax dollars at any agency that proves it can protect them.”
“Right,” Ethan said. “So the agency that captures the terrorist responsible will be golden boy and get the funds, and—”
“And become the umbrella organization under which all other agencies must operate. Politically, it doesn’t get any bigger.”
“So they… or somebody, handles our terrorist as if he’s an asset, providing him with information and resources.”
“That’s how I read it,” Teddy said.
“Where from?” Ethan said. “Where’s the money coming from? The oversight committee would be all over it like a rash.”
Teddy snorted a laugh. “The oversight committee gets to see what they’re allowed to see. There are black budgets in every agency. Hell, most of the proceeds from busts and seizures ends up there. It’s the only way most of us can operate.”
Ethan stood up, crossed the small room and cupped his hands against the two-way mirror, but all he could see was his face, and his hands. “Okay,” he said, turning his back to the mirror, “what we have is somebody, somebody with political ambitions above his present position, feeding Faraj… the terrorist pretending to be Faraj, everything he needs to know to kick over the hornets’ nest and scare the money men into increasing the budget.”
“Yes, but the big reward will only happen for the agency who brings him down.”
“And this somebody put fifty thousand dollars into an NCIS geek’s account just to throw us off?” Kelsey said.
“Chicken feed. Fifty K is pocket change in this game. Think millions.”
“Then that’s Ed off the hook,” she said, looking over at Ethan. “We should make a call.”
“Nah, let him sit in a cell for a while. The rest will do him good. And keep him off Titsnet.”
She turned to face Teddy. “Who?”
“Who? Who’s pulling the terrorist’s strings?” He shrugged. “I’ve got my suspicions, but no proof, so I’ve got nothing.”
“Who do you suspect?” Ethan said, sitting back at the table.
Teddy looked from one to the other several times as he wrestled with a big decision. Then he closed his eyes, took a long breath and blew it out. “Okay. I think it’s Dryer.” He opened his eyes, expecting to see shock and horror.
They just watched him without expression.
“You don’t seem very surprised.”
“Nothing about politicians surprises me,” Ethan said.
“Dryer’s a federal agent, not a politician,” Kelsey said.
Ethan and Teddy chuckled.
“Dryer is a special agent in charge, and that’s the same as section chief. You don’t get to be a section chief unless you know how to work the ropes,” Teddy said. “And Dryer’s the Muhammad Ali of rope-work.”
“So you think Dryer set this whole thing up so he could be the one to capture America’s Most Wanted and grab the gold ring?” Ethan said.
Teddy was silent for a long time, then nodded slowly. “I’m an analyst; it’s not a job, it’s who and what I am. And every fiber of my being tells me Dryer’s our man.” He sat up straight. “Look at the facts. The first victims were military. That stops any notion that the assassinations are political. But the military getting murdered wouldn’t scare the purse holders, so one of their own gets shot to death, and that scares the shit out of them.”
“But that was Christian Carter, or at least Carter’s man,” Kelsey said.
“It didn’t take much suggestion for them to see it was related,” Teddy said. “I read the report. Hell, I wrote most of it.”
“And then Carter gets himself shot.” Ethan shrugged. Oops. “So no trial to show his motives were financial not terroristic.”
“Correct,” Teddy said.
“Sorry,” Ethan said.
“You did what you had to do.”
“Then Dryer, or somebody working for Dryer, set Carter up, knowing he’d react this way?” Ethan said.
“Why not? The agency knows pretty much everything about everybody. We can predict to a very high degree of certainty what an individual or group will do given the right stimuli.”
“And screwing his multibillion dollar bid was the right stimulus, so you knew he’d kill for that contract,” Ethan said, trying for a rise.
“Somebody knew he would,” Teddy corrected.
“Then where’s the terrorist? And what’s his next play?” Kelsey said mostly to herself.
“Good question,” Teddy said. “Because one thing’s certain, this is a long way short of over.”
“How do we play this?” she said. “We can’t just accuse Dr
yer of orchestrating a terrorist act on American soil. Not without proof.”
“Gold-plated proof,” Teddy said, “with a big red bow.”
“You know how you flush a sniper?” Ethan said. “You give him a target, and when he puts his head up, you shoot it off.”
“That’s okay as long as you’re not the target,” Kelsey said.
“True, except I am.” He flashed a smile. “As usual.”
They left Teddy sitting in the interview room, entering all the new facts and suspicions into his database, and headed for the exit, careful to avoid bumping into Dryer. They weren’t ready for him yet.
“Where to?” Kelsey asked as she snapped on her seatbelt.
“Back to the Navy Yard,” Ethan said. “I’ve another little hacking job for your nerd.”
“I thought we’d put that to bed?” Dryer said.
“Maybe,” Teddy said, “but the more I think about it, the more it clangs like a cracked bell.”
Dryer leaned back in his chair and waved his hand for Teddy to continue.
“Okay, he sent his squad to Afghanistan, but he’d do that to cover up what he’s really up to.”
“And that is?” Dryer leaned forward and put his hands on his desk. “SecNav’s political agenda?”
“Maybe.” Teddy looked out of the window as he thought it through. “The thing is, it doesn’t add up. The assassinations and this thing with Bernstein.” He looked back at Dryer. “I think circumstances forced Gill’s hand and he moved too early on Carter. If he hadn’t, another of SecNav’s obstacles to the White House would be gone. Now it turns out there is no Faraj.”
“I have to admit that came out of left field,” Dryer said. “And hey, well done for putting a trace on his phone.”
“That’s what you pay me for. So we’re back where we were. Somebody’s killing anyone in a position to thwart SecNav’s bid for high office. Gill and Lyle are foisted on us and get point on the investigation. Very convenient, by the way. And we chase one ghost after another.” Teddy took a long breath. “Christian Carter, for Christ’s sake! Can you really see him as a stone killer? The man was a billionaire.” He leaned forward and mirrored Dryer with his hands on the desk. “And it’s just Gill and Lyle’s word how it went down. The woman, Bates, was swooned away. Also very convenient.”