Текст книги "Заговор мечей"
Автор книги: Джейн Doy Press
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“Seems he blew the lid on an undercover operation she was involved in, and someone died.”
“Who?”
“Her partner, Perry Watson.”
“No shit?”
“Nope.”
Alex could hear David tapping his pencil. “Is there more?”
“Yes. Do you want me to come over tonight, or can you wait ‘til tomorrow?”
“I guess I can wait. You will be ready at eight-thirty, right?”
“Are you bringing breakfast?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Yep, I’ll be ready. Probably not awake, but ready.”
*******************************************************
Alex pulled her short coat tighter against her as she exited the building. The weather recently had been nice during the day, but this late in the evening the season was obvious. February was usually cold and snowy. So far, flakes hadn’t fallen, but Alex wouldn’t be surprised if there was white on the ground by morning.
She began the walk to the Metro station, her briefcase hanging from a strap on her shoulder. She wished she’d remembered to grab her hat before she left home that morning. She’d remembered gloves, though, and she gratefully stopped to pull them from her pocket. As she slid them over her cold fingers, she felt it.
There was an itching on her back, right in the middle. It was an odd feeling, one she didn’t like. It felt as though someone was watching her.
Cautiously, and slowly, she turned around to look back in the direction of the door she’d come out of. There was no one there.
It wasn’t as though the streets were empty. Several young men with overcoats and attache cases brushed past her, and one stopped to hail a cab. Many others were walking along, minding their own business.There didn’t appear to be anyone watching her. But she could still feel that itch.
She shook her head, and resumed walking, trying to ignore the fear that was beginning to settle into her stomach. As she headed down the stairs into the station, she quickly glanced up and behind her. There was no one there. The feeling began sliding away.
With a sigh, she entered the turnstile, then headed for the platform to wait for the next train to DuPont. As she went down the final flight of stairs, the feeling of being watched returned, this time very strong. Once again, surreptitious glances revealed no one, but her senses were on full alert, and she felt herself move with a quickened step.
When she got to the platform, Alex leaned against the wall near where the front of the train would pull to a stop. There, she shifted her briefcase, and unbuttoned her coat. Her hand stayed in front of her, within easy reach of the gun she carried in a shoulder holster. The feeling was still there, though not as strong. It didn’t go away, and she didn’t move.
The train pulled in to the station, and Alex listened to the loudspeaker confirm that it was headed to DuPont. She didn’t move. She waited until most of the people were either into the cars, or headed for the stairs, then she took a good look around. Again, no one appeared to be watching her.
Just as the bell sounded that the doors were closing, Alex shot away from the wall, and onto the first car. The doors closed immediately behind her, almost on the back end of her briefcase. She turned back to the door, watching as the train began to move and the view of the station was replaced with the dark cement of the underground tunnel. She waited for a moment longer, feeling the fear dissipate as the itch in her back disappeared. She sat down opposite the doors and stared at them thoughtfully.
Could she have just been paranoid? After all, she’d had an assassin sitting in her office tonight. Anyone would be nervous after that. She could have just been scaring herself, right?
But then again, she’d had an assassin in her office. An assassin that had seemed to exude shadows even in the well lit office cubicles. And Alex’s instincts were very good.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, Alex settled into her seat and leaned her head against the window. The feeling of being watched was gone, and hadn’t come back since she boarded the train. Once she got to her stop, it wasn’t a long walk home, and before she knew it, she’d be in that hot bath, with Appleby doing his balancing act on the rim of the tub.
But even as she waited, she kept her coat open, and her hand resting just inside it.
Just in case.
*******************************************************
Teren Mylos watched the FBI agent as she went down the steps at the Metro station. She’d been surprised to realize that the agent was aware of being followed. She waited near the top of the stairs, counting slowly to ten, then walked down the flight. She saw her quarry pass through the turnstile, and she got into a long line of people waiting to do the same. Again, she noticed Agent Reis looking around her cautiously. She waited until Reis reached the platform before descending to it herself.
Standing well back in the shadows near the stairs, Teren had a good look at Alex. Her back was to a wall, and she’d unbuttoned her coat. Knowing her gun was within easy reach of Alex’s hand, Teren almost smiled. Almost exactly what she would have done.
She had to give Reis credit, when she jumped onto the train at the last minute. By being in the first car, it was the first one to leave the station, taking the agent out of shooting range, if anyone was inclined to do that. It also prevented anyone else from boarding the train after Alex. By waiting so long, Alex had made her pursuer wonder if she was going to board the train at all. That could have left the hunter standing while her or his quarry rode safely away.
Again, Teren smiled. That would only work, she thought, if the hunter didn’t know where the woman was going. If he or she did know, then they’d be waiting for Alex at DuPont Circle. That could be dangerous for the small agent.
Good thing the hunter wasn’t really hunting.
As she climbed the stairs back up to the station, Teren found herself impressed that Alex had known she was there. She knew she should have been able to conceal herself from the likes of Alex Reis, but she hadn’t been able to pull it off. It had appeared that Reis knew she was being followed almost from the moment she’d left the FBI building. Unusual, unexpected, but Teren was not unhappy that the younger agent had demonstrated the ability to sense her surroundings. It had been her own strong senses that had kept her alive many times. She hoped the same technique would keep Alex safe as well.
After all, Alex appeared to be a damn good FBI agent. She was quick, and smart, and not easily intimidated. Teren knew that was going to be important if Alex was to solve her current case. And Teren wanted it solved. She knew that the people behind Perry’s death were probably behind many more. She wanted Alex to lead her to them.
Of course, then Teren and Alex would have a problem. Alex would want the guilty party taken to jail. Teren would want them taken to the morgue.
Teren glanced at her watch. It was almost seven-thirty. She’d be late to her class, but if she hurried, she could be there by quarter ‘til. Already constructing her excuse, Teren slid behind the wheel of her Nissan, and pulled away from the curb.
Chapter Five
Alex looked grumpy but semi-coherent as she got into David’s car. Without comment, David handed her a donut and a cup of hot chocolate. As he drove, Alex ate. Other than the engine and the radio, silence ruled the car as David pulled on the interstate to take them into Baltimore.
She finished the donut and crumbled the paper, still slowly sipping at the cup in her hand. With a glance at David, Alex sat up a little straighter, and rubbed her eyes.
“I thought you were just going home after we talked last night. You look like you were up all night. What happened?”
“Couldn’t sleep much. Think Cliff’ll kill me if I slip home for a nap this afternoon?”
“Can’t tell you. But you do look beat. Any reason you were up?”
“Don’t laugh. I was having bad dreams.”
David smiled, but managed not to even chuckle at his partner.
“You, bad dreams? You’re the one who stayed up watching horror movies all night on Halloween – when there was a thunderstorm raging, I might add.”
“I know.”
She was quiet longer than he liked. “Want to talk about it?”
Alex sighed. “I can’t prove it, but I think someone was following me last night.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“No. It could have been my imagination. After all, when you’ve spent part of the evening talking to a CIA assassin, you kind of get the heebie-jeebies anyway. But I could swear there was somebody there.”
“Wait, hold on. What assassin?”
“Teren Mylos. I told you about her, remember?”
“The frostbite bitch?”
“I didn’t call her that.”
“No, but if you couldn’t charm her, she deserves the name. She’s an assassin?”
“Yeah. That’s the bad news. The good news is, she’s on our side.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she’s searching for the same guys we are. She thinks they may have had something to do with her partner’s death.”
“Hm.” David waited while Alex finished her cocoa. “Think she could be the one following you?”
Alex sighed. “I don’t know, Dave. Why would she? It’s not like I’m a threat to her.”
“Maybe she’s not what she says she is. You know spooks switch sides all the time.”
“I know. Fun and games, man, fun and games.” They grinned at each other. “But I don’t think so, Dave. She’s serious, deadly serious. Her partner died, and she took two bullets because this guy blew their cover. She thinks he was paid for it, and by the same guys that paid to have Dabir killed.”
“Any proof?”
“Well, she did I.D. the shooter as George Mather, former CIA agent, the same man whoscrewed them in eastern Europe.”
“At least we have his name. Did she say who paid him then?”
“No. I don’t think she knows that. But she does know something, I’d bet on it.”
“What about the driver?”
“Mather’s brother-in-law. An agency wannabe. Name’s Darryl Wilford. And by the way, Teren ‘says’ that no prejudice was involved on their part.”
“Bullshit. You and I both know there was.”
“I don’t know, Dave, she made a really convincing case. After all, she knew this guy, and was convinced he killed for money, not ideology. I’m inclined to believe her on that.”
“So now you don’t think these killings were racist?”
“I didn’t say that. I said, I agree that Mather may not have killed out of prejudice. Doesn’t mean that whoever paid him wasn’t a racist son of a bitch.”
David tapped his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. “How does that help us, Alex? I mean, doesn’t that put us back at square one? I mean we know about Brogan’s family ties, and I’m telling you he gave them the car. But how do we tie him to this Mather guy?”
“I don’t know. But I was asking Teren about how he would be paid, and she said it would either be cash or electronic transfer. That reminds me,” Alex reached down to her belt and unclipped her cell-phone. She dialed rapidly, then waited.
“Who’re you calling?”
“Jenny, that friend of mine in Research. She’s a whiz with – Hey, Jen, this is Alex, howya doin’?”
“I’m good, Alex, but busy. And I have a feeling you’re going to make me even busier, right?”
“Could be.”
“Hey, didn’t we do enough for you with that report for Ken? He said it was also for you. Didn’t we do a good enough job?”
“Oh, you guys were great. That was really helpful, and when David and I go back to Philly we’ll be able to really put the screws to Mr. Brogan.”
“If he’s involved in this shit, Alex, I hope you get him, but good.”
“Thanks, Jen. But, you were right, you know. I am going to ask you for something else.”
“Damn. Knew you wouldn’t just call to say thanks.”
“If you can help me out with this, I’ll send you roses and a thank-you card.”
“Oh, don’t do that, my boyfriend will get jealous.”
Alex laughed along with her friend, then became serious again. “Okay, Jen, got a pen and paper?”
“Yeah, go.”
“All right, I need any and all financial records you can find on these two names. First one is Mather, m-a-t-h-e-r, first name George. You might have some trouble getting things on him because he’s confirmed CIA, but try anyway.”
“Okay, and number two?”
“Wilford, w-i-l-f-o-r-d. First name Darryl, d-a-r-r-y-l. Unfortunately, that’s all I know about him, just his name.”
“So, you want background as well as financial?”
“At this point, anything, but especially finances.” Alex bit her lip, and then gave a half-sigh. “Hell, let me give you these other two names as well. I don’t know if you’ll find anything, since they’re CIA as well, but we can try.”
“Great. Don’t suppose you want to tell me why I’m chasing spooks for you?”
“Not really.”
“Didn’t think so. What are the other names?”
“Watson, Perry. Spell it just like it sounds.” She waited a moment. “Mylos, m-y-l-o-s. First name Teren, t-e-r-e-n.”
“Got it. Mather, Wilford, Watson, and Mylos. Good guys, or bad guys?”
“At this point, I’m not so sure I can tell them apart. I’m hoping you can help.”
“I’ll do my best, pal. You still with that cute partner of yours?”
“You mean David?”
“Yeah. Is he still married?”
“Yes.”
“Damn. Well, gotta go. Somebody, who shall remain nameless, just dumped a shitload of work on me.”
“Sorry, pal. Get me something on these guys, and I’ll send over lunch for you and the old gang, all right?”
“Hey, that’ll work! Talk to you later, Alex.”
“Thanks, Jen.”
Alex folded the phone and reclipped it to her belt.
“What was that about me?” David asked.
“Oh, Jen thinks you’re cute.”
“She always had good taste.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw her new boyfriend.”
“Bad?”
“I hear he has piercings where no one should have piercings.”
“Ouch.” He waited. “Okay, you want to tell me why you just ordered financial records on someone who’s supposed to be dead?”
“You mean Watson? I don’t know. I mean, I know the guy’s dead, but —” She threw up her hands. “I don’t know, call it a hunch.”
“And this Mylos?”
Alex frowned. “Again, I can’t tell you why. Something in me says I can trust her, but something else says I should be prepared in case she’s not all she seems.”
“And what does she seem to be, Alex?”
She hesitated before answering him. “Cold. Emotionless. Deadly serious.” She stopped and thought about it a little more. “And yet … she also seemed angry, and hurt, and – I don’t know.”
Alex didn’t say anything else, and David didn’t ask anymore questions. It was a quiet ride the rest of the way into Baltimore.
*******************************************************
The store they were looking for was called Whitley’s Fine Clothes For Men. It was located on a busy corner in downtown Baltimore, right next to an office supply store. The mannequins in the window at Whitley’s wore handsome dress shirts with dark jackets, and blank expressions.
Before exiting the car, Alex agreed to let David lead the questioning. She followed him into the store, knowing she was too tired to effectively lead any interrogation. If the answers were a little slow in coming, she would probably lose her temper, and they’d never get the answers they wanted. So, she stayed behind David, hanging back as he approached the salesman that had them in his sights.
“Good morning. What can I do for you today?”
It was way too early for such cheer, and Alex wanted to tell the younger man to shove his head up his own tailpipe. Instead she held her tongue, and listened as David asked to speak to the manager.
The manager, Mr. Clymes, was even shorter than Alex, and thin. He greeted them politely, and offered his services.
“Mr. Clymes,” David said as he showed his badge, “could we talk in your office? It’s important.”
“Oh, well,” the small man smiled nervously, and glanced at Alex, who was also holding up her badge. “I suppose that would be best. This way.”
He led them behind a curtain, and through what was obviously a store room, stopping at his office door. “I’m afraid I only have two chairs in the office, Agent – Wu, was it?”
“Yes, and two chairs will be fine.” David motioned at the door, and Mr. Clymes opened it. It was small, but neat, and the smaller man took the chair in front of his computer, while David sat in the smaller seat next to the desk. Alex stood in the doorway, watching the scene in the office, and keeping a covert eye on the other employees present.
“Now, what can I help you with?”
“Mr. Clymes, I believe you carry a line of clothes by a company called Kittredge.”
“Kittredge. Hm.” Clymes leaned back in his executive chair and tapped his chin with his left index finger. “I don’t know the name offhand, Agent Wu. Is that the manufacturer, or the line of clothes?”
“Well, the manufacturer is Kittredge, and they have a signature line out under that name. However, they also use the brand name Klaser. Does that ring a bell?”
“Klaser. You know, I think that’s familiar, but …” he leaned forward suddenly, turning on his computer monitor, and waiting for it to show him the screen clearly. “Yes, there it is, Klaser. And you’re right the manufacturer is Kittredge.” Clymes looked at the FBI agent in his office. “What do you need to know, Agent Wu?”
“Well, for one thing, I’d like a list of anyone who purchased a Kittredge product in the last six months.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
“Mr. Clymes, this is a federal investigation. I’d rather not bother the Justice Department for a warrant this morning, but I will.”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I can’t.”
Alex just couldn’t take it. “Would you explain that please, Mr. Clymes?” She had meant to keep her voice calm, but realized she failed when David gave her a glare.
“It’s simple, Agent – uh, Agent —”
“Reis,” David supplied.
“Agent Reis. We have a specific and unique agreement with Kittredge, for their Klaser clothes line. They send us certain items, that have been prepaid. We charge them a small fee for using us as an outlet, and the item is picked up by someone after they show the proper receipt. There are never any names attached.”
Alex and David looked at each other.
“Do you have this kind of arrangement with many of your suppliers, Mr. Clymes?” Alex almost winced at the irritation obvious in her voice.
“No, Agent Reis, we don’t. Kittredge is unique, and it’s something I don’t exactly approve of. But I inherited the account from the previous manager, and since it’s not a problem for us, I haven’t found a reason to stop or change the arrangement.”
“So, there’s no record of items you’ve received from Kittredge, or who picked each item up?”
“Well, there’s the log book that records each item delivered to the shop, and we also record the day it left. But, no, we’ve never kept the names of the buyers. I’m sure Kittredge would have that information, don’t you think?”
David nodded. “Of course. It looks like we’ll have to go right to the source. Just to make sure, Kittredge Manufacturing is in Alabama, right?”
“Yes, just outside Birmingham. I have the address if you need it.”
“No, I think we have it back at the office. Could you possibly give us a printout of the items from Kittredge?”
“That shouldn’t be hard to do, just a moment.”
Clymes began clicking away at the computer, and David watched him, while Alex gazed around the storage room. There was something she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t think what. Trying to jog her memory, she tried to review the conversation in her mind.
“How long have you worked here, Mr. Clymes?” she finally asked.
Clymes didn’t look up from his computer as he answered, “Three years.”
“Have you been the manager that whole time?”
“Oh, no, I started out a salesman, just like everyone else. I’ve only been the manager for about six months.”
“Really. What happened to the old manager?”
The printer was busy kicking out papers, and Clymes leaned over to stop them from falling to the floor. “Damn, I forgot that paper tray is broken. Here you are, Agent Wu.” He handed the papers to David. “Now, what was that again, Agent Reis?”
“I asked, what happened to the old manager?”
“He quit. Left the owner in a real bind, too. He just called in one day, and told the owner he’d be handing in his keys the next day, and could he please have his check ready. Oh, Mr. Whitley was furious.”
David was glancing through the papers, and noted that several overcoats had been sent out in the last six months. He reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a picture.
“Mr. Clymes, I just have one other question. I was wondering if you’d ever seen this man in your shop?”
The manager of the store took the picture and held it, looking it over slowly. “Yes. I think that’s him, anyway.”
“You know him?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I remember he came in for a Kittredge coat, oh, back before I was manager. I remember because because I waited on him, and he left me a very large tip. Yes, I’m sure it’s him.”
“Can you tell us anything about him? His name, or an address for him?”
“No. All I can tell you is that he was always a sharp dresser. And he tipped well.” Clymes frowned. “You know, he hasn’t been around at all since Darryl left.”
Alex’s ears perked up at the name, and she felt an eyebrow rise of its own accord. “Excuse me, Darryl?”
“Yes. Darryl was our old manager. He and this gentleman were very good friends. In fact,” he pointed at the picture, “this man used to pick Darryl up all the time. One of the younger men even had the nerve to ask Darryl if that was his boyfriend.”
“What happened?”
“Oh, he was fired. And when he came in to pick up his paycheck, he had a broken arm and a black eye. Said it was from a car accident, but we had a feeling… ” His voice trailed off.
“What was Darryl’s last name, Mr. Clymes?” Alex steeled herself for the answer. She didn’t know if she wanted to hear the answer. If it was just a coincidence she’d be disappointed, but if it wasn’t, she didn’t know what she’d do.
“It was Wilford, Darryl Wilford. I still have his employee file if you’d like to see it.”
It really was anticlimactic.
*******************************************************
Alex’s mind was still reeling as she and her partner got into David’s car. David started the engine, but left it in park. Then he leaned back, his eyes on the ceiling.
“Well, at least it’s a partial verification of your assassin’s story.”
“How so?”
“Well, she identified the shooter. Said he hung out with Wilford. Now we come across the manager of this store, and he says Darryl Wilford hung around with this guy,” he motioned to the picture in his pocket, “who we now know as George Mather.”
“Yeah. But it’s not as solid as I’d like.” She shrugged. “It feels like I’m still forgetting something.”
“Like what?”
“If I knew, Dave, I’d tell you. Good job pulling out the picture, by the way. I’m so wiped this morning I probably would have forgotten.”
“Doubt it. You’d have remembered, and gone back if you needed to.”
“Maybe.” She rested her elbow on the door, her hand reaching up to idly play with a few stray strings in the ceiling.
David watched her for a moment longer, and then opened the file Mr. Clymes had given them. Inside was an employment application filled out in an even hand, with a picture attached. He flipped past it for a moment, reading the application. Then he turned to the next page. He was looking for something, but he didn’t know what it was until he saw it.
“Bingo, Alex.”
“What?”
“Here.” He showed her the file, pointing to what had caught his eye. “His emergency contact was George Mather. And there’s an address.”
Alex nodded, taking the folder from him. “Yeah, but it’s New York. Last night Teren said he’d been gone from there for eight months.”
“How do you know it’s the same one?”
“I don’t. So, of course, I’d like you to check it out when we get back to the office.”
“Me? What will you be doing?”
Alex was staring at the picture of Darryl Wilford. “I have to see a man about a rifle.”
David snorted. “Funny, Alex.” He put the car in gear and began to pull out of his parking spot. “Really funny.”
She looked at him. “I’m not kidding. Teren said something last night about a gun Mather owned, and I want to check it out.”
“What kind of gun?”
“A Romanian rifle. One that uses a seven-point-sixty-two millimeter bullet, and has a sniper’s scope on it.”
“And you think it might have been the weapon in New York?”
“I think it might be possible. But I thought the Dremov was on the list of banned weapons. I want to check with Mikey, in ballistics.”
David frowned as someone cut sharply in front of him. “How would Mather get a banned weapon?”
“Come on, Dave. He’s CIA remember?”
“Oh, right. Thanks for clearing that up for me, partner.”
“No problem.”
*******************************************************
It was just past one o’clock when they got back the office. As the two of them stepped off the elevator, Mark Garnett came around the corner.
“Hey, you’re back. Anything?”
“Yeah, we’ll tell you later. Would you spread the word that we need to see everyone in the control room at about three thirty?”
“Sure, Alex, I can do that.” Mark started to walk away, then snapped his fingers and turned back. “Damn, I almost forgot. Two things for you, Alex. First, Cliff wants to see you pronto. Something about a meeting last night?”
“I figured he’d want me to stop in. What else?”
“I contacted Price in Philly. He said he’d get samples of the two coats from the police, and send them up with a courier. Matter of fact, they should be arriving at the lab this afternoon. I don’t know if you were right, but …”
David grinned at him. “For some reason, Mark, I think she was dead on.”
“Why’s that?”
“Later.” Alex glared at her partner. “Just tell everyone that they really want to be at the meeting. I’m heading to Cliff’s office, and then down to ballistics. I’ll meet you all at the control center.”
“Right. I’m gonna give a call to some of the jobs listed on Wilford’s application.”
“Wait, who’s Wilford?”
Alex patted Mark on the back. “Don’t worry, Mark. All will be revealed.”
She headed down the hall to see Cliff Jackson.
*******************************************************
Alex found Cliff in his office, eating a late lunch. He asked her what Teren had said, and ate his french fries as he listened. The more she told him, the slower he ate. When she told him about Clymes’ confirmation, he stopped eating altogether.
“Let me get this straight, Reis. First, Mather screws his comrades over in Europe, getting Watson killed in the process. After that, he comes back to the states, somehow getting in without alerting the agency. He gets the assignment to kill Dabir, and gets his brother-in-law to drive the car. They then get blown to hell because they like making money more than they like the cause. Is this correct?”
“Well, I’m not sure about the timeline, exactly, but I think it’s a possibility. Only one thing you missed.”
“What’s that?”
“Teren hinted that Mather might have killed Fletcher in New York.”
“Shit. How does she know?”
“She didn’t say. But she said he was in New York at the time, and he owns this rifle that uses the right kind of ammo. I’m heading down to ballistics to talk to Mikey and ask him what he thinks.”
“Any other leads you’re following?”
“Yeah, I’ve asked Research for financial records on all our players. Maybe we’ll shake something loose from the money tree. After all, assassins have to get paid.”
“Right. What’s David up to?”
“He’s following up on Wilford, trying to find out about his past. I’m hoping that if we can fill in a little more of the history, then we can find out who they had contact with. It’s going to be tougher with Mather, obviously, but I’m thinking we should try.”
“Okay.” Cliff was nodding. “I think you’ve done a good job. But I gotta tell you, you look like shit.”
Alex felt her cheeks get hot. “Thanks, Cliff.”
“No problem. You haven’t been getting much sleep, huh?”
“No. I was thinking of sneaking away after the meeting this afternoon. Would you kill me if I did?”
“Only if you did anything other than get sleep. You keep driving yourself, Alex, and you’re gonna end up with ulcers.”
“I fully intend to spend the evening sleeping, sir.”
“Good. Now, why did you want to call this meeting?”
“Well, number one, I think everyone ought to hear about Mather and Wilford. Two, I think we need to find out where these two were during each of the other killings. Once we do that, we can re-work the timeline, and trace their movements. My gut tells me we’ll find one or both in each location at the right time.”
“You think the two of them were responsible for all the deaths?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, since they’re dead, does that mean the killings are over?”
Alex clenched her jaw. “I have a feeling they aren’t, Cliff. I mean, we don’t know who hired these guys, or who blew up their car. Until we answer those questions, I got a feeling the killings won’t stop.”
Cliff stared at his desk, a faraway look in his eyes as he nodded at her. Then he raised his head and looked at her. “By the way, I got a message from Deputy Director Bishop.”
“Really.”
“Yes. He said that he and the director had every confidence in our team, and since they were also short on manpower, there would be no additions to our staff. The task force will continue as is for at least another two months.”
Alex shook her head. “That sucks, Cliff.”
Cliff had to grin at her. “Hey, chin up. You already found the guys that killed Dabir. You even have their names.”
“Yeah, because Teren gave them to me.”
“Ah, but remember, you and David planned the trip to the store before you met Teren. So, even without her, you would have gotten one name, and had the other in the folder. All she did was verify what you would have found out.”
“I suppose that’s true. Clymes would have still identified that photo, and told us he hung out with Wilford. You’re right.”
“Of course I am. That’s why I’m the head of this task force. Now, go talk to Mikey, and let me finish my lunch.”
“Right. Sure you wouldn’t like a few fries with that side of ketchup, Cliff?”
“Out, Reis.”
*******************************************************
It wasn’t hard to find Mikey Clarin. All you had to do was follow the smell of gunpowder that wafted down the hall from the ballistics lab. As soon as you entered the lab itself, Mikey’s office was immediately to the left, behind a row of file cabinets. Everyone knew that if Mikey wasn’t in his office he was probably in the testing well.
