by CW Browning
Stephanie stifled a laugh at that and picked up her coffee.
“For someone who hates the government as much as you do, you sure picked a funny place to work,” she said, finishing her coffee and slipping the flash drive into her jeans pocket.
“I love my job,” Matt replied with a shrug and a lopsided grin. “That doesn't mean I have to love other agencies, especially Homeland Security.”
“Well, I appreciate all of this,” Stephanie said. “When are you telling Rob?”
“When I get back to the office,” Matt said, draining his coffee. He looked at her. “What are you going to do?”
“Find out what the hell is going on,” Stephanie answered grimly.
“Well, for God’s sake, be careful,” Matt advised, standing up. “Let me know if you need help with anything, unofficially.”
“I will.” Stephanie stood up and held out her hand to him. “You're good people, Matt. Thank you.”
He nodded, shaking her hand, and turned to leave. He went a few steps, paused, then turned to come back.
“One thing that might help you,” he said, “is that the bomb wasn't made here. I pulled some shrapnel from the undercarriage of the Firebird. If I had to choose, I'd guess that it was made somewhere in Latin America or Mexico.”
Stephanie stared at him.
“Latin America or Mexico?” she repeated.
Matt nodded, pushing his glasses up on his nose again.
“Yes. I hope that helps.”
Stephanie watched him leave the coffee shop and picked up her purse. She turned to leave, her mind spinning as she stepped outside into the flow of humanity on the city sidewalk. Not only was Alina right when she said that an explosive was the cause of the accident, but apparently she took the evidence from the Firebird, went to the FBI building and broke into Matt's lab to analyze it! Stephanie knew she should be furious, but she was still too stunned over the sudden involvement of terrorists to feel anything but relief that Viper was already aware of the situation.
She turned to walk up the street toward the parking garage where she left her car, lost in thought. It was bad enough when she thought that Dominic planted an explosive on John's car to try to kill him. Discovering that it was a shrapnel bomb used by terrorists made her feel somewhat sick. Why would terrorists care about a couple of street racers? And why John?
A feeling of helplessness washed over Stephanie, so acute that it took her breath away. Lifting her head, she saw the crowds of people moving around her for the first time. Struggling to take a breath, Stephanie felt her whole body flush and she looked around frantically, trying to stay calm as her chest became tight. Blindly, she pushed past some women and out of the flow of foot traffic, stepping into the shadow of one of the tall buildings. She leaned on the cool stone and forced herself to breathe, trying to control the gasping breaths and calm her racing heart.
It had been many months since she had a panic attack, almost a year in fact. The last time was after a terrorist got the back of his head blown off behind her. If it hadn't been for Viper and her rifle, she wouldn't be alive now. Stephanie lifted her hands to rub her temples as her breathing slowly went back to normal and the sweating stopped.
“What the hell is going on?” she murmured to herself.
As her breathing returned to normal and the flush left her skin, Stephanie reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She hit speed dial and waited, cursing softly when the call went straight to voicemail.
Viper, where the hell are you? she thought furiously, slipping the phone back into her purse and heading back towards the parking garage.
Michael hooked his Bluetooth over his ear and pressed the button to answer the incoming call.
“Hello?”
“Hey Mike,” Blake's cheerful voice greeted him. “How goes it?”
“It goes,” Michael answered, stifling a yawn and glancing at his watch. “What are you up to?”
“I'm in New Jersey,” Blake answered readily. “I had brunch with Stephanie Walker earlier. She's looking tired.”
“Maybe she needs a vacation,” Michael said. “I know I do.”
“She's on one, of sorts,” Blake said. “An involuntary one.”
Michael raised an eyebrow, his attention caught.
“What?”
“Man, things are crazy up here,” Blake told him, his voice growing serious. “Have you talked to your girlfriend lately?”
“Not about anything in New Jersey,” Michael said with a frown, “and she's not my girlfriend.”
“Well, it's a hot mess up here,” Blake said roundly. “Did you know John Smithe was in a car accident and is in critical condition?”
“No!”
“Yeah, I didn't think so. It gets better.” Blake paused and Michael heard a slurping noise as if he was finishing a soda through a straw. “He was friends with one the biggest street racers up here. I say was because the guy was killed in an accident a week ago. Apparently, John thought something wasn't kosher about the whole thing, started his own private investigation, and ended up with a bomb in his wheel well for his trouble.”
“Wait, hold on,” Michael stopped him, shaking his head. “Are you saying John was bombed?!”
“Yes. I mean, they didn't drop it from a plane, but yeah. They planted it on his car and blew his tire during a race.”
“Holy shit,” Michael breathed. “Who?”
“The running favorite is a guy up here named Dominic DiBarcoli,” Blake told him. “The best part is that I interrogated a member of the Cartel we caught outside Raleigh last night. Guess who's name he gave up as running drivers out of Atlantic City?”
“Dominic's.”
“Bingo.”
Michael stared out the window at the street signs flying by as his mind spun.
“So, Dominic is the one running your precision drivers, and we think he tried to kill Stephanie's partner?” he finally asked incredulously.
“That's about the size of it,” Blake agreed. “I told you it was a mess up here. Your girlfriend didn't tell you any of this?”
“I've been a little busy on my end.”
“That doesn't sound good,” Blake said after Michael didn't continue. “Are you making progress?”
“Too much, unfortunately,” Michael muttered.
“You were right then?”
“Looks like it.” Michael paused, then sighed heavily. “And it looks like your precision drivers are in it up to their necks.”
“Ah hell, Mike,” Blake groaned. “What do you know?”
“Not anything I can tell you over the phone,” Michael answered. “Just be careful. I don't like any of this.”
“I hear you.” Blake was silent for a moment, then, “What about Agent Walker? Should I be worried about her having an accident?”
“Honestly, Blake, I don't know,” Michael said truthfully. “I'm still trying to figure out how bad this is. My best advice is to stay close to her and keep your eyes open.”
“And you?”
Michael moved over into the right lane, preparing to take the next exit off the highway.
“Hopefully, I'll have answers soon,” he replied. “I'll let you know when I do.”
“Be careful, gunny,” Blake told him. “If your case is connected to mine, this just got a whole hell of a lot bigger than us.”
Michael thought about Viper and her involvement.
“Trust me, I know.”
Stephanie sighed and stretched her arms above her head, rolling her neck and letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. She glanced at the clock across the living room. It was just after eight. Lowering her eyes to her laptop, she went back to the wealth of information on the flash drive Matt gave her that afternoon. It was slow going. She had to look up most of the terms and chemical compound names to find out what they were before she could even begin to understand the notes Matt made. When her cell phone rang a few minutes later, she reached for it gratefully.
“Hello?”
&n
bsp; “Hey, it’s me,” Blake said. “Have you heard from her yet?”
“Not yet,” Stephanie answered with a chuckle. “Why so anxious? I thought you didn't want her so involved?”
“Well, since she already is, she might as well be useful,” he retorted. “What are you doing?”
“Just some work on my computer,” Stephanie answered vaguely. “Why? What's up?”
“I was going to head back to DC tonight, but I got caught up in Atlantic City longer than I thought I would,” he told her. “I'm staying here for tonight. I'm bored.”
Stephanie laughed.
“Bored? In Atlantic City?” she demanded. “How is that even possible?”
“I know, right?” Blake agreed. “For once, I'm in no mood to go out and have a beer. I've been thinking about everything and going over my notes instead. How's John? Have you heard anything?”
“I was there this afternoon,” she said, sitting back in her chair and rubbing the back of her shoulder. “He's still heavily sedated. The doctors are playing it safe. They said he's been stable since yesterday afternoon, so that's a good thing. They're getting more optimistic.”
“That's awesome news,” Blake said sincerely. “Before you know it, he'll be back on his feet.”
“God, I hope so,” Stephanie said. “I was hoping he'd be awake so I could ask him what he found out before the accident.”
“You have no idea? Not even a clue?”
“Nope.” Stephanie shook her head and got up restlessly to pace around her living room. “Whatever it was, he didn't tell anyone.”
“That's frustrating,” Blake murmured, more to himself. “I wonder if he at least found out who the drivers were?”
“I don't know.” Stephanie stopped in front of the couch and stared down at the coffee table absently. “I bet he would have made notes...”
Her voice trailed off as a thought occurred to her.
“Special Agent Walker, you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?” Blake demanded after a moment of silence.
“I have a key to his apartment,” Stephanie said thoughtfully. “I don't see why I couldn't just go and take a quick look around. You know, make sure everything is secured.”
“And this is why I like you, Stephanie,” Blake announced cheerfully. “If you want to wait an hour or so for me to get up there, I can join you.”
Stephanie glanced at her watch as another thought occurred to her. When Rob launched his investigation, the first thing they would do is go through John's house. She didn't have much time.
“No,” she told Blake, striding over to the laptop and closing it decisively. “I'll run over now before it gets too late. The neighbors know me, so they won't think anything’s odd if they see me.”
“Well, be careful.” Blake's voice was unusually serious. “Check in when you get there and again when you leave.”
“Blake?” Stephanie paused in the act of reaching for her holster with her sidearm. “Are you alright?”
“I don't like the thought of you going alone,” he admitted. “Too many accidents and too many things don't add up. Please be careful.”
“I will,” Stephanie promised. “I'll text you when I get there.”
“Fair enough.”
Stephanie hung up with a frown and put on her holster, securing her government-issued Glock at her side before swinging her black windbreaker on to cover it. She hesitated, the unusual tone in Blake's voice echoing in her mind, then turned to go down the hallway to the bedroom. He didn't know anything about the terrorist angle, but he still knew something wasn't right with this whole mess. In a way, she was relieved. She couldn't warn him of the real threat without revealing information that would be classified by morning, but it seemed that his instincts were already warning him. That was enough for now.
Stephanie went into her closet and opened the small safe at the back, extracting a second nine millimeter pistol and an ankle holster. It wouldn't hurt to have a back-up, just in case of surprises. Stephanie pulled up her jean leg and attached the holster, sliding the pistol into it.
She strode out of the bedroom and down the hall, picking up her purse in the living room and grabbing her keys from the hook inside the door. She glanced at her watch and shook her head. She should have thought of this sooner. For all she knew, Rob had already sent agents to John's apartment and any evidence he collected was already gone.
“Stupid!” she muttered to herself as she locked her front door behind her and turned toward the car. She'd been so caught up in trying to make head or tail out of what was on that flash drive that she hadn't even considered the fact that any evidence John had the FBI would now want.
She was sliding behind the wheel of the Mustang when another thought occurred to her. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, starting the engine as she pressed the speed dial.
“Yes?” Viper picked up on the second ring.
“Where the hell have you been?” Stephanie demanded. “I've been trying to get you all day!”
There was brief silence on the line and Stephanie was suddenly embarrassed at her outburst.
“Well, you've got me,” Alina finally broke the silence, a trace of amusement in her voice.
“I'm coming over,” Stephanie told her, backing out of her parking spot. “There's too much to tell you over the phone. I'm stopping at John's on my way, though, so I'll be a little bit.”
“Why are you going to John's?” Alina asked sharply.
“I want to look for any notes he may have made before the accident. He obviously found something. I think we need to find out what it was before anyone else does.”
There was another brief silence on the phone, then a very faint sigh.
“I'll meet you there,” Alina told her. “How far away are you?”
“About ten minutes.”
“Don't go in without me,” Viper instructed. “I'm on my way.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alina pulled up in front of John's one-level apartment building at the same time as Stephanie. She killed the powerful engine and got out of the Shelby, looking over the roof at her old friend.
“What took you so long?”
“How did you get here so fast?” Stephanie countered, closing her door.
“I wasn't coming from the house,” Alina replied, joining Stephanie on the sidewalk in front of the building. “What are you looking for?”
“Anything that can shed some light on why someone put a bomb on his car,” Stephanie answered wryly. “I should have thought of it sooner, but I'm ashamed to say it just occurred to me half an hour ago.”
Alina glanced at her as they walked up to the door.
“What made you think of it then?” she asked softly, studying her friend's face.
“I was on the phone with Blake and he wondered if John found out who the drivers were,” Stephanie said, pulling John's spare key from her pocket. “It suddenly hit me that anything John found out before the accident would have to be here. It certainly wasn't with him.”
Alina watched as Stephanie unlocked the door, then sent a sweeping glance over the parking lot before following her inside.
“I'm glad you're here,” Stephanie admitted as Alina closed and locked the door behind them. “Blake wasn't happy about me coming alone, and to be honest, I wasn't so thrilled about it myself.”
She reached out to switch on the living room light but Viper stayed her hand.
“No lights,” she said, pulling a Maglite out of her jacket pocket.
Stephanie made an impatient huffing noise, but relented, pulling out her own flashlight. Alina switched on her light and looked around the place John called home. It was surprisingly neat for a bachelor pad, much cleaner than she remembered him being when they lived together years before. They were standing in a living room with dove gray carpeting and white walls with gray trim. The sofa was black leather with a matching recliner and the coffee table was glass. Predictably, a 65-inch flat screen took up
most of the far wall. Under the TV, an entertainment stand housed multiple electronics, including three different game systems. Viper shook her head slightly at that, but turned her attention to the bookshelf next to it. It was filled with an assortment of books, DVDs and pint glasses.
“How much does he know?” Alina asked, moving into the dining room and glancing into the adjoining kitchen.
“Quite a bit, actually,” Stephanie said, heading over to the closet in the living room. “I didn't have to tell him about Dominic after all. He already knew.”
“Did he now?” Alina raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. “That's interesting.”
“He caught a member of the Casa Reino Cartel in North Carolina who gave up Dominic's name as the person running drivers out of Atlantic City,” Stephanie told her, opening the closet door and shining her light in. “He took me out to brunch this morning and told me about it. So I told him about Dutch, John and the bomb on John's car.”
“Brunch? He's in Jersey?” Alina asked, turning toward the hallway that presumably led back to the bedroom.
“Yes.” Stephanie advanced into the closet. “He's staying in Atlantic City tonight.”
“You look there, I'm going to check the bedroom,” Alina said over her shoulder, disappearing down the dark hallway. A muffled sound indicated Stephanie's acknowledgment and Alina moved into the first open door on her right. A quick glance revealed that she had found John's office. She turned and quickly checked the other rooms. One was a bathroom and the other was John's bedroom. After a cursory glance around the bedroom, Alina went back to the office.
The blinds on the window were closed and curtains hung down on either side. Viper crossed the room and pulled the heavy curtains over the blinds before turning her attention to the desk. A laptop was plugged in, fully charged, and Alina moved the light over the rest of the desk. The router, a printer and some assorted notebooks and pens were the only other items on the desk. A cursory glance through the notebooks revealed that they were blank. Turning to the bookshelf along the adjoining wall, she paused and her breath caught as the light illuminated a single, framed photo on the top shelf. It was a picture of her and John with Dave, taken on the boardwalk one summer day many years ago. Involuntarily, Alina moved forward and picked it up, studying it in the glare of her Maglite. God, they were all so young. Something pulled deep inside her and Viper quickly set the photo down, turning away from the bookshelf impatiently.