The Money Trail

by J. C. Fields

  “Merci.”

  A few minutes later, Brutka was in a position to observe the front of the bistro without being seen. He could see the woman checking her phone occasionally and looking around the restaurant. She made a call, listened for a few moments, dropped money on the table, stood and left the establishment. Brutka was pleased to see his suspicions were correct as she headed straight for the door on the sidewalk leading to Orlov’s offices.

  He extracted his cell phone.

  ***

  “The office is closed?” Sean Kruger looked up from the report in front of him.

  Clark nodded. “All calls go to a voicemail message announcing the office was closed until further notice.”

  “Are any of the associates talking?”

  “No. The ones we’ve interviewed were as surprised as we were at the sudden closing. No one seems to have been notified.”

  “When did it close?” Kruger took his reading glasses off and looked around the conference table. “Please don’t tell me last Friday.”

  Another nod from Clark. “When everyone left last Friday, it was business as usual. Monday, the locks had been changed, the lights are out and nobody’s home.”

  “Did anybody check with the utility company?”

  FBI agent Samantha Warren nodded. She was a seasoned agent with over twenty years of experience and Ryan Clark’s current partner. In her mid-forties, short hair, stocky build and a no-nonsense attitude, Kruger knew her as an exemplary member of the FBI.

  “Utility company did not receive a discontinuation of service notice,” she said. “As far as they know, nothing changed from Friday to Monday. I spoke to the baristas at the Starbucks across the street. Several of them saw a U-Haul there early Saturday morning and a lock company arrived after the truck left. Most didn’t really pay much attention.”

  “Did any of them remember the name of the locksmith?”

  Warren shook her head. “Wish we could’ve been that lucky.”

  “Alright,” Kruger frowned, “we will assume the files are gone.”

  Chapter 26

  Washington, D.C.

  U.S. House of Representative member Anthony “Tony” Holt served at the discretion of the voters in the 5th District of Tennessee. Born and raised in Nashville, as a teenager, he envisioned a career as a session guitarist in the various recording studios around the city. Unfortunately, talent played a major part in the pursuit of such an occupation. Holt’s musical talents were mediocre, at best, so this career path never materialized.

  But he did have the talent to make people like him and believe in his honesty and integrity.

  He possessed neither.

  First elected to Congress in 2006, following the death of the previous representative, Holt maintained a high profile in Congress. Using his talent to make people believe in him, he successfully maneuvered the halls of Congress, making deals for his district and making sure key donors in his home district kept the money flowing into his campaign coffers. His ambitions were higher than just being in the House of Representatives.

  Standing six foot, he kept a lean body by exercising daily in the House gym. With a head of dark brown hair, a bright smile, an ex-cheerleader wife and two athletic boys in high school, he presented himself as the all-American candidate. The voters rewarded him by returning him to Congress every two years. With twelve years in Congress and a growing seniority, he now chaired the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, a high-profile position he relished and would use for national exposure.

  Unknown to his colleagues, wife and voters back home, Holt kept a rather embarrassing episode of his life well hidden. One night, during his second campaign for re-election, he consumed more beers than he could remember. As the crowd thinned, one of his young female volunteers caught his eye. After offering to buy her a late dinner, he raped her in the back of his car. With the help of Kyle Sandifer, the young woman agreed to keep quiet, take the money offered and move to Fayetteville, Arkansas, where her tuition at the University of Arkansas would be paid in full.

  So far, the episode remained hidden from the public eye.

  Holt returned to his office in the Cannon House Office Building to find a large man waiting in the reception area. His assistant was nowhere to be seen. Startled and somewhat annoyed he looked at the man and asked, “Can I help you?”

  The man smiled, held up an iPad for Holt to see and said, “We need to talk in private.”

  The accent was European, but Holt could not identify the country. “Do you have an appointment?”

  Another smile and the stranger pointed to the iPad again. “What is on here gives me the appointment. Your office?”

  Frowning and wishing to keep attention away from the encounter, Holt walked toward the door and followed him inside. Once the office door was closed, he turned to the man and demanded, “Now, care to tell me what this is all about?”

  The large man activated the iPad and handed it to Holt. As he read the screen, his eyes grew wider. After two pages, he stopped and glared at his guest. “Where the hell did you get this?”

  “Kyle Sandifer was gracious enough to share his files with us. We need a little help.”

  Not fully understanding the meaning, Holt shook his head. “I’m not following you. What kind of help?”

  “We need to know where FBI Agent Sean Kruger lives.”

  “Now how and why would I know that?”

  “You are chairman of the committee that oversees the FBI, correct?”

  Nodding his head, Holt narrowed his eyes.

  “That doesn’t mean I know where the agents live.”

  “No, but you have the power to find out. Find out.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  Boris Volkov proceeded to explain.

  Chapter 27

  Springfield, MO

  Two Days Later

  The assassin exited the American Airline jet and walked through the terminal of the Springfield-Branson National Airport, pulling a small wheeled carry-on bag through the terminal. Dressed similarly to other male passengers on the flight, he was as invisible as all the other travelers in the airport. He did not speak to anyone on his trek toward the rental car kiosks, and when he arrived, he spoke with a non-descript American accent. No one paid attention to his presence and no one would remember he passed through the facility.

  Two hours later, after checking into a hotel on the south side of town under a false name, the assassin drove down a sleepy neighborhood street containing the house owned by Sean and Stephanie Kruger. He noticed a few cars parked on the street, lawn services attending to yards, stay-at-home moms’ power-walking strollers containing small infants, and squirrels dashing across the street in front of his car.

  One house in particular drew his attention. It sat on the north side of the street with a large oak tree in front of a window on the west side. According to his source, this was the FBI agent’s residence. He parked the car in front and looked at the structure. He saw no signs anyone being home. He watched an elderly couple approaching his vehicle on the sidewalk. He stepped out as they grew near and waved. “Hi,” he said cheerfully.

  The man nodded and the woman smiled. Neither spoke.

  “Can you tell me if this is the home of Sean Kruger?”

  The couple stopped walking and the man tilted his head to the side. “Maybe, do you know him?”

  “I used to work with him. Thought I would say hello.”

  “They aren’t home.”

  “I see. Are you sure?”

  “We have a neighborhood watch website. When one of us is out of town, we alert the neighbors about it. You know, keeping an extra eye on things. Can’t be too careful nowadays.”

  “No, you can’t. I appreciate the information. I’ll have to catch him later.”

  The assassin sat back down in the car before the couple could ask any more questions.

  As he pulled the car away from the curb, he said to himself, “No, you can’t be too c
areful. Thanks for the info, old man.”

  The car accelerated through the neighborhood as the driver thought over several options for completing his assigned task.

  ***

  Stephanie Kruger pulled her Jeep Cherokee into the driveway of her house. Mia Diminski turned to her and said, “I’ll just be a moment. I have a few things to get and I’ll be right back.”

  “I won’t be long, either. Hope Sean and JR don’t find out we snuck back to the houses for a few moments.”

  Mia chuckled. “How would they find out if neither of us say anything?”

  Both women smiled and proceeded inside their respective homes.

  ***

  On the third day of watching Kruger’s home from inside a large pickup truck parked two houses west, the assassin’s patience paid off. Through binoculars, he identified Stephanie Kruger as she walked into the now-open garage. His plan had worked better than he imagined. After appropriating a large F-250 pickup from a temporarily closed plumbing company, the assassin was able to park in the neighborhood without attracting too much attention.

  When the Jeep Cherokee backed out of the driveway, the assassin started the vehicle and slowly pulled away from the curb.

  ***

  Mia watched the highway ahead as Stephanie drove back toward the turnoff to Joseph’s property in Christian County. She took a deep breath and sighed.

  “We’ve been at Joseph’s place a week, now. How much longer do we have to stay?”

  “I don’t know. While I love the view and the solitude, I really need to get back to the house. Driving to and from the university from this far out is getting old.”

  “I know. JR won’t even let me go into the office until he thinks it’s safer. We’ve had a few harsh words about it, but his logic makes sense.”

  “Yes, I hate it when they’re right.”

  Both women chuckled.

  Mia turned to look at Stephanie as she said, “I haven’t told you this yet, but JR and I are expecting another child.”

  Stephanie smiled and shot a quick glance at her friend before returning her eyes to the highway. “That’s wonderful. When?”

  “Sometime in July. The doctor thinks about the third week.”

  Stephanie was about to look at her friend again when she noticed something in her rearview mirror.

  “Uh-oh,” she murmured.

  Mia frowned. “What?”

  “Truck coming up behind us extremely fast. He’s about to pass, but it’s going to be close. Hang on, Mia, this is…”

  As the truck flashed past, it appeared to be less than a yard from Stephanie’s door. Stephanie slammed on the brakes just as the truck inched toward them. The Jeep slowed enough that instead of a full broadside collision, the large pick-up clipped the front quarter panel of the SUV. As the Jeep went into a spin, the rear end collided with the beginning section of a guardrail on the right side of the highway.

  ***

  Kruger glanced at the caller ID on his phone. With a slight smile, he accepted the call. His oldest son rarely called unless he needed something.

  “Hey, Brian. How are you?”

  “Dad, Mom’s been in an accident. She’s alive, but she’s hurt. How fast can you get home?”

  Kruger blinked rapidly for several quiet moments. He pushed his worst fears down and took a deep breath.

  “How bad is she, Brian?”

  “The doctor told me she has several broken ribs, a punctured lung, some internal injuries and possibly a concussion. Nothing life threatening, but she’s in intensive care. And, Dad…”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mia was with her in the car.”

  “Oh dear God, please tell me she’s okay.”

  “Wish I could. She’s hurt worse than Mom.”

  “Is JR there?”

  “Yes, he was here when Michelle and I arrived.”

  “Have you seen your mom?”

  “Briefly.”

  “Which hospital?”

  “Mercy.”

  “Okay.” Kruger paused as he collected his thoughts. “I’ll see if I can catch the first flight out of Reagan. What happened? Do you know?”

  “That’s the scary part, Dad. She was run off the road by a hit-and-run driver.”

  Closing his eyes, Kruger brought his free hand up to cover them. After a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “Where were they?”

  “Southbound on 65.”

  Kruger immediately knew what that meant—they were heading back to Joseph’s.

  “Do you know any other details?”

  “Not really. All I know is what drivers behind them told the Highway Patrol. A large pickup truck clipped Mom’s Jeep in the front and spun it around. Cops and EMTs were there within five minutes. The EMT I spoke to told me if the Jeep had hit the end of the guardrail head on, Mom and Mia probably would not have survived.”

  Silence was Kruger’s response. Finally, after a few moments he said, “Brian, I want you to listen to me. Do not, under any circumstance, leave the hospital until I get there.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  “That was not a hit-and-run. It was done on purpose. Someone tried to kill Stephanie. I’ll be home as quickly as I can find a flight. I’ll call you when I know more.”

  His next call was to Joseph.

  ***

  Joseph was good on his word to find Kruger a flight home. An hour after taking the call from his son, Kruger sat in the passenger seat of a Gulfstream G280 on the tarmac of Reagan National Airport. The private jet, owned by a personal friend of Joseph Kincaid, would have him on the ground in Springfield in under two hours. As the plane taxied toward the runway, he made another call on his cell phone.

  “Knoll.”

  “Sandy, it’s Sean.”

  “I just heard. What can I do to help?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Heading toward the hospital.”

  “Where’s Jimmie?”

  “Babysitting. He’s not happy about it, but he drew the short straw.”

  “Good,” Kruger smiled.” Someone is here, Sandy. Somehow they found out where I live.”

  Knoll was quiet for a few moments. “How?”

  “I don’t know. Where are your boys?”

  “Pete’s stationed at Bragg and Bobby’s in the middle of Seal training.”

  “Good, they’re safe. What about your wife?”

  “I just spoke to her. She’s fine.”

  “Brian and Michelle are at the hospital. I’ve told them to stay put until I get there,” he glanced at this watch, “which should be about two and a half hours from now.”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  ***

  Kruger held his wife’s hand as he surveyed the various tubes and wires attached to her body. Her closed eyes worried him. Turning his attention to the heart and respiration monitor, both measures appeared normal. He glanced at her blood pressure. A little low, but considering the medication in the IV, understandable.

  Having been at her bedside for forty-five minutes, he watched as her swollen eyes fluttered and slowly opened. As she focused on him, she smiled. “Heck of a way to get you home, huh?”

  Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. “Sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

  She shook her head slowly as she whispered, “Nothing you could have done.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t remember much, just a large truck speeding up behind us.”

  “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

  “No, I’m lucky to have a husband who continues to pound into my head, all the time, to be suspicious of anything unusual. I was ready when he came around. I slammed on the brakes…” Her eyes widened. “Oh, my gawd, how’s Mia?”

  “She’s still in intensive care. She has a broken pelvis and some internal injuries. But I spoke to JR and she will recover.”

  “Sean, she’s pregnant.”

  A grim smile crossed Kruger lips. He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.
/>
  Stephanie shut her eyes as moisture leaked from the corners. He watched as her body convulsed with a sob. She shook her head slowly and muttered, “Oh—no.”

  He held her hand until she calmed. “Steph, I’m going to send in Brian and Michelle. I need to speak to Sandy for a few moments.”

  She nodded, but did not speak. Releasing her hand, he left the room.

  ***

  The male nurse pushed the gurney past Stephanie Kruger’s room. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the subject of his task exited the room and started talking to a large man standing at parade rest outside. He continued his trek down the hall until he reached the elevator. Looking back down the hall, he smiled. His plan had worked. Simple, really. Put the wife in danger and the husband would show up.

  He pushed the gurney into the elevator and continued to watch his quarry as the doors closed.

  ***

  Kruger noticed the male nurse passing the room as he walked up to Sandy Knoll, the moment not registering as important.

  “What’ve you learned, Sandy?”

  Sandy Knoll tracked the same nurse with his eyes as the gurney was pushed down the hall. As soon as the man was out of ear-shot, he responded.

  “I just spoke to a Greene County deputy who had an update. A truck registered to AAA Plumbing was found abandoned in the parking lot of a Walmart on the southeast side of town. Right rear quarter panel showed evidence of a collision with a vehicle with black paint. They took samples and will let me know if it matches Stephanie’s Jeep.”

  Kruger nodded.

  Knoll continued, “The truck was reported stolen by the owner about midday today.”

  Frowning, Kruger pursed his lips. “The accident occurred this morning.”

  “Yeah, the owner told deputies he parked the truck behind his shop on Saturday and didn’t need it until today. That’s when he discovered it missing.”