Текст книги "Заговор мечей"

Автор книги: Джейн Doy Press

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

Alex stood aside, nodding at her former classmate, and then looked back at Teren, who was already forming the group into pairs for practice. Alex watched for a moment longer, then walked the rest of the way down the hall to the locker room.

*******************************************************

It was past eleven when she finally made it into the office. Alex stopped by David’s desk first, just to check on things. He was just putting his jacket on.

“Alex, hey. ‘Bout time you showed up.”

“Well, Cliff told me to get some rest, and hit the gym this morning, so I did.”

David stopped and looked into her eyes. “You look better. The color in your eyes is strong again.”

“I feel better.” She perched on his desk. “What do you mean about my eyes?”

“When you get really tense, the color dims, like it’s been watered down. Normally they’re a real strong green. The past few days they’ve been pale, like somebody mixed white paint in them .”

“Oh.” She quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. That’s how I know when you need a break. It’s also why I called Sarah last night.”

“Aha. So, it was you that sicced her on me.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to do. Normally, if you’re eyes are pale at night, the next morning they’re fine. But this time …”

She nodded. “Yeah. I needed a break. An evening to myself. And I got it.”

“Good. You slept well, I take it?”

“Yeah. Didn’t even clean things up after dinner. Just ate on the couch, and fell asleep there.”

“I’ve had to spend the night on your couch – that’s not really comfortable, Alex.”

“It was only for a couple hours. Then I switched to the bed.”

“So, you didn’t go anywhere after you got home?”

“No. Why?”

“Sarah called me back. She said she’d phoned your place and got the machine. She was kind of worried. I’m supposed to tell you to call her.”

“Do you know what time she called?”

“About 7:30, I think.”

“Damn, I must have slept right through it. I heard the phone once, but it was a hang-up, and that was at nine o’clock.”

“You must have really been zonked.”

“Yeah.” She looked at the floor, then up at her partner. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, yeah. Ben and I are going to talk to people at Wilford’s former jobs. First we’ve got an interview with a Karen Larsen. She used to work with Darryl Wilford, and she dated him for a while. When I called this morning, she was busy, but agreed to meet us on her lunch hour. Should be interesting. It sounded like she knew him pretty well.”

“Well, good. Glad you guys are getting somewhere. Don’t forget to ask her if he ever talked about white power or anything like that.”

“Don’t worry, I think I know what to ask. Ben and I set up a list of questions, including the basics, and every harebrained thing we thought you’d ask.”

“Hey!” She punched him lightly on the arm as he grinned at her.

There was a rap from the doorway of the cubicle.

“Hi, Ben.” Alex had always liked Ben Cleves. He was the oldest agent on the team, and was less than a year from his pension. Ben hailed from south of the Mason-Dixon line, and his accent, like his dark hair, had never faded. He was taller than Alex by a couple of inches, and had always reminded her of her father. She wasn’t sure why, after all, they looked nothing alike.

“Hey, Alex.”

She rose from her seat on the desk. “I understand you and my partner are going off for some interrogations. Did you pack the rubber hoses?”

“Yep. And I got the spotlight in the car already.”

“Bamboo needles for the fingernails?”

“Eh, doesn’t sound like we need to go that far with these ones.” He grinned at Alex, then put an arm around her shoulder. “It looks like you’re feelin’ better.”

“Yeah, I am. Does everyone know that Cliff sent me home last night?”

“Nope. I didn’t even know ‘til you just told me.”

Alex covered her face with her hand. “Great.”

Ben jerked his head at Dave, motioning him to leave the cubicle. Once he had, Ben put his hands on Alex’s shoulders and waited for her to look up at him.

“Look, it don’t matter. I think everyone knew he’d probably give you the evenin’. You’ve been runnin’ on pure cussedness since you got back from Philly, and the engine sputtered a little. So, you know what you do? You find a way to refill the gas tank, and you keep drivin’. All of us need a refill from time to time, and I ain’t goin’ to begrudge you yours. Got me?”

“Thanks, Ben.”

“Alex, Dave told us that he chased after the guy while you tried to help the victim. He said you rode in the ambulance, and the guy was DOA. It don’t take much to figure out that, of all of us workin’ on this fuckin’ case, you’re the only one to have seen a victim get hit, up close and personal like. That’s why it hit you like it did.”

Alex leaned forward, and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Ben.”

He hugged her back, then stood and straightened his tie. He looked around to make sure no one had seen what happened.

“You tell anyone I hugged you, I’ll deny it.”

“Not a word.”

Ben nodded at her, and then walked towards the door.

“Ben?” He looked back at her. “I wouldn’t let Dave drive.”

Ben snorted. “Alex, I may be slow, but I ain’t stupid.”

Alex laughed. She stood there for a moment after Ben left, and just let her thoughts drift over their conversation. It didn’t surprise her that Ben had known what she was feeling. He was nearing twenty years as an agent, and had probably been through the same thing. The only thing that did surprise her was how he accepted her reaction. She thought that her lack of control in the meeting, and her inability to function without emotion, would lower her stature in the eyes of her fellow agents. Obviously, that hadn’t happened with Ben. She’d have to just wait and see how everyone else took it.

With that she headed for her office.

*******************************************************

“Hi, you’ve reached the home of Sarah Mahoney and Maggie Copeland. Neither of us are available right now, but if you leave a message, we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. Thanks.” Beep.

“Sarah. It’s Alex. I’m okay. Yeah, it’s been a little tough the last few days, but I’m fine.” Alex paused. “I’m gonna have to do something about you and David ganging up on me. It’s not fair, you know. I have to listen to him all day long, about how I’m not taking care of myself, and I should get some more rest. Then I get home and find your messages saying the same thing. Sometimes I feel like I’m back home with my parents. Yeesh!” She paused a moment longer, and then softened her voice.

“But, I gotta say, it’s nice to know somebody cares. I love you, too. Give Maggie a hug for me, and tell her I love her. I’ll see the two of you soon, I promise. Love you. Bye.”

Alex hung up, breathing a sigh of relief. She had called Sarah, and let her know she was fine. However, she had called at a time when she knew Sarah and Maggie would both be out of the house. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her friends, she did. But they’d ask again how she was doing, and she wasn’t prepared to tell them about her crying spell last night.

She wasn’t ready to tell anyone about that, yet.

Instead, she stared at the stacks of paper in front of her. They represented all of the paperwork that needed to be done by agents involved in the investigation. Cliff had grimly guided her into the control center and pointed her to them.

“I thought you wanted me to do research, Cliff.”

“We have a research department, Alex. You’re not part of it anymore. Now, you’re a full-fledged agent, and you get to do the same job everyone else has to do. It’s called ‘paperwork.’.”

“Yeah, but —”

“No buts. Just do it.” He turned away, then turned back and grinned at her. “Besides, I can read your writing. Ever tried to decipher Mark’s, or Steve’s, or Louis’?”

“No, but —”

“Nope. No buts.”

And he’d left her alone in the forest of paper.

Part of what she was trying to do now, was organize the case notes from all the members of the team. Since all the events of the previous weekend, no one had tried to assemble the latest case notes, and that had to be done before they could be given to one of the secretaries for typing into the computer. The had to be in chronological order, and readable.

After a while she realized two things: one, Cliff was right, the other members of the task force had some pretty bad handwriting. Two, there were pieces of the puzzle hidden inside the notes. When originally written, they’d meant little or nothing. But now, in the light of what they’d recently learned, these scraps of information had taken on new importance.

Like the question, asked in writing by Tom Jorgen, if a Dremov rifle could possibly be the weapon that killed Steven Fletcher. Tom had asked, because he’d read that there were still hundreds of Dremovs in the states, brought in years ago as souvenirs by military men returning from Europe. He hadn’t followed up on it, however, because it was a long shot. Besides, there was no rifle to test.

There was also a note about a phone call from the witness who saw the blue sedan in the parking lot before Doug Wilson’s car exploded. The witness said she had remembered something about the car. While it wasn’t possible to see through the tinted windows, she had gotten a glimpse into the back seat of the car when the white male suspect opened the door and entered the vehicle. Louis Baker, who had spoken to the woman, quoted her as saying, “I know it sounds strange, but I could swear there was a baby seat in the back of the car.” Baker had noted beside the quote that she might have seen a package, or maybe a suitcase of some kind.

Finally, Alex came across the list of employees at the store the Baltimore rifle had been stolen from. Weeks ago, the name Ricky Wilford meant nothing to anyone.

Today, it meant a great deal.

She picked up the phone and dialed.

“David Wu.”

“It’s Alex. Where are you?”

“Baltimore. Near the Arena. Why?”

“Do you know where Riley’s Sporting Goods is?”

“Yes. It’s a long way from here, though.”

“Do any of the places you’re going take you near Riley’s?”

Alex heard the rustling of paper.

“Yeah, one of the businesses is close to there.”

“Well, make sure you stop in at Riley’s.”

“Why?”

“Because you might want to talk to one of their employees.”

There was mumbling on the other end of the line.

“Alex, Ben said he and Mark already interviewed the employees.”

“Did he? Ask him if he remembers one named Ricky.”

Again, muffled voices. “Yeah, he remembers.”

“Ask him if he remembers Ricky’s last name.”

She heard a yelp from Dave, and then Ben’s voice came on the line.

“Alex? You’re shittin’ me.”

“Nope. Checked it on the computer. Darryl was his older brother. Maybe you should let Ricky know we think his brother fried to a crisp in Philadelphia.”

“We’ll do it. I just hope the little prick is there today.”

“If I may suggest, since Ricky doesn’t know David, it might be good if he did the interview. He was there, so he can tell Ricky all the fiery details.”

“Yeah. Shit. Mark’s gonna be pissed.”

The line went dead, and Alex immediately started dialing again.

“Rick Price.”

“Rick, it’s Alex Reis. Why are you answering Ken’s phone?”

“Cause Ken’s mouth is full. We’re eating a late lunch. Anything I can do?”

“Maybe. Have you guys gone to see Brogan yet?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Ask him where he was on the dates of the murders. Remember, there are at least two other reports of a blue sedan. And I just came across a note that said a witness in Atlanta thought there was a child’s seat in the car she saw.”

There was a pause.

“Rick?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’m writing it down. Ask him about all the dates, or just the ones where the car was seen?”

“I’d ask him about all the dates. If he knows something, and we ask him about all of them, he’ll realize we’ve connected him somehow. With any luck, he’ll either go running scared, or talk.”

“Right. I’ll let Ken know. You still want to talk to him?”

“No, let him finish eating. Just tell him I haven’t had a chance to check on Gerlach and his friends. I should get to start on it today. I’m also going to look for computer records of Brogan traveling anywhere. If it was his car, that means he might have gone with them. If so, there could be gas receipts or something.”

“Hopefully.” There was a muffled voice. “Ken says hi, and thanks.”

“Tell him hi for me, and you two have fun. Play nice with Mr. Brogan.”

“Right. I have to. I’m the good cop.”

Alex laughed. “Bye, Rick.”

She hung up, and once more dialed again.

“Clarin.”

“Mikey, it’s Alex. Did you find that information on the Dremov?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I haven’t had time to check it against the shells we have. I’m aiming for sometime late this afternoon.”

“That’s fine, Mikey, I just wanted to check.”

“Yeah, sure. You field agents get all the fun jobs and then you expect us hard working guys to have stuff done right when you want it.”

“Fun jobs? Mikey, I’m doing case notes for the entire task force.”

“Hm. Okay, so you have to do a day of grunt work. I gotta go. Talk to you later, Alex.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

Alex put the phone down, and left it there. She leaned back in her chair, rather proud of herself.

Mark came into the control center where she was working and dropped into a chair beside her.

“Okay, Alex, what did you do to my partner? He called me, hopping mad. Told me we’d missed something and I should see you. What’d you do?”

She handed him the list of employees, and pointed at the name.

Mark blinked for a moment. “Shit. Goddamn son-of-a-bitch was right there.”

“There’s no proof, Mark.”

“Were they related?”

“Brothers.”

“Shit.”

Mark stood up, letting the sheet of paper fall back to the desk. “And here I thought I was gonna be the one with all the hot tips today.”

“Oh? What did you find out?”

“Well, I was finishing my phone calls on Wilford’s background. I called his college; they’re sending his transcripts. But I thought I was missing something obvious. You know, how you know something is right in front of you, and you can’t see it?”

“I spent the last few days feeling like that.”

He looked at her. “Yeah, I guess you did, huh? Anyway, I was just looking over my notes, and then the notes on the gun, and thought, shit, if he’s a rifleman, he’s probably NGA. So I checked. He was.”

“That’s great.”

“No, that’s not great. What was great, was that the National Gun Association is so proud of him that they faxed me a copy of his profile. The guy wasn’t good with a rifle, he was great. They rated him an expert marksman. They also sent a copy of an article they did on him for an edition of their newsletter. I pulled the original out of our files. You’ll never guess who’s in the picture with him.”

Alex’s eyes went wide. “He isn’t.”

“Yes, he is. And they’re each holding a rifle.”

“God, Mark, you’re a genius.”

He shrugged. “Naw, I just got lucky.” He tilted his head and grinned. “Wanna know how lucky?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. In that picture? The rifles they’re holding?” Alex nodded. “Well, the caption identifies them both as Colt carbines. But you can tell that they’re not the same. I kind of wondered if the rifle in Mather’s hands could be a Dremov.”

Alex could feel her jaw hit the table in front of her. She jerked it back up, and cleared her throat.

“May I suggest you take that to ballistics today?”

“Actually, I scanned the picture, enlarged it, and emailed it to Mikey. He emailed back something about all field agents having too much time on their hands, and said, yes, it is.”

Alex whooped and jumped up from her chair.

“That’s great!” She gave him a grin and a hug. “If I had your luck, I’d head for Atlantic City.”

“Yeah, I might do that.”

“Did you tell Cliff?”

“No, he was in a meeting. I left a message with Jodi that he should come in here as soon as possible.”

“Cool. We can tell him our news at the same time.”

“Yep. Hey, wanna see the picture? I emailed it to everybody on the team.”

“Absolutely.”

Alex turned to the computer and brought up her email screen. After downloading the file, she switched over to a graphics program and opened the photo. There on her screen were George Mather, and Darryl Wilford, rifles in hand.

Cliff chose that moment to appear.

“All right, Mark, what’s so goddamn important —” He stopped in mid-sentence. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“NRO newsletter. Mark got lucky.” Alex continued to look at the picture while Mark told Cliff about his idea, and then the information the organization gave him. He went over how he had learned about the article, and then the picture.

As Mark was talking, Cliff split his attention between him and the screen. Alex, however was looking at the screen intently, fixing on something in the background of the picture.

She framed the area that had caught her attention and magnified it. She had to do it twice more before the images began to stand out. Alex stared for a moment at what she’d found. It didn’t look like anything really interesting, but Alex could feel something trying to come through in her mind.

The image she’d enhanced was one of two men facing the left side of the screen while shaking hands. One man was holding a prize of some kind in his left hand while shaking with his right. Neither of their faces could be seen. Behind them was a banner of some kind, though it was unreadable.

“Alex? What are you looking at?”

Alex folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. She tilted her head, and stared at the screen.

“I know that picture.”

“What?”

She didn’t say anything, just tilted her head the other way. Then she glanced at Mark.

“Did the article say where this picture was taken?”

“All it said was a rifle tournament in Michigan. Wilford took first place.”

“Did it say who took second?”

“No.”

Alex sat still for a few more minutes, then shrugged.

“There’s something familiar about that scene. Like I’ve seen it somewhere, but I don’t know where or when.”

“You mean the whole picture, or just that little bit in the corner?”

“Just that little piece.” The scene kept nagging at her, but the memory wouldn’t come out.

She shrugged again. “I don’t know. I think I’ll just leave it on the screen for a while, and if I remember, great. If not, it must not have been important.”

“Sounds good,” Cliff said. “Now, want to tell me what you’ve been up to? Mark said you were stirring things up again.”

“Well, not as much as this did. Really.”

Alex explained about the notes she’d found, that had suddenly seemed more important in the context of their new information. She ended by telling Cliff that Ben and David were going to visit Ricky Wilford.

“Hot damn. I think we’ve actually got a chance at solving this son-of-a-bitch.”

“You mean you didn’t think so before?”

“I thought I had the best team, and if it could be solved we’d solve it, ” Cliff said. “But I wasn’t sure, two weeks ago, that we were ever going to get a break. Now, we’ve got several, and we just might do it.” He got up from the chair he had been sitting in. “Now, I’m expecting a conference call from California. Vic said they’ve got a line on another guy that was in the car. They’re still looking for this Brillo character.”

“Well, maybe this will give them some hope. Wish them luck for us.”

Cliff nodded, and left.

“You really think Arturo was part of this, Alex?”

“Well, his name was on the list. Plus, with the area he lived in, it’s a little suspicious. I mean, he didn’t live in Brentwood, but from what I understand, drive-by’s were unheard of in his community.”

“Yeah, but it’s completely different from these killings.”

“Is it? Think about this. The first two were similar I’ll grant you. But even they have their differences. In the first murder, the weapon is removed; in the second it’s not. The third is a bombing. The fourth is by handgun in the middle of a room. There are more differences than similarities, yet we’re discovering that the same two men probably killed all four victims.”

“Sure, I agree, but the evidence suggests that the killers in LA were gang members.”

“So? I figure if someone could hire Mather and Wilford out here, then that same someone could hire a gang member out there.”

Mark sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Damn. Everytime I think we’re getting closer, I’m reminded of how far we have to go, and suddenly …”

Alex nodded. “I know the feeling. It’s great knowing we got the killers nailed. But then you realize, the killers are dead, and we don’t have a clue yet who hired them. It almost feels like we’re spinning our wheels, but not going anywhere.”

The two of them were quiet, then Mark glanced up at the clock.

“Oh, shit. I’m gonna be late if I don’t hurry.”

“Where are you going?”

“I got a class at three o’clock. That’s why I had to stay here and David went with Ben.”

“What class?”

“Well, I’m coming up for recertification in hand-to-hand, and I thought it would be a good idea to get in a class before I took the test. It’s just a two-week refresher, and it starts today.”

“Who’s your instructor?”

“I don’t know, somebody new. They said it was a woman.”

Alex grabbed his arm as he walked past. “Hey. If it’s who I think it is, then don’t fuck around in there, Mark.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, I know you. I’ve taken a class with you, remember? Our instructor didn’t care that you cut up during class, cause he knew you. But this instructor doesn’t know you, and you won’t get away with it this time.”

“Who do you think it is, Alex?”

“You remember, Cliff and I told you about the CIA agent who’d been shot, and was now just teaching karate?”

Mark’s eyes grew wide. “Her?”

“Yeah. I know she’s teaching, cause I got a chance to look in on one of her classes this morning. She wiped the floor with Tony Lewis.”

His jaw dropped at that one. “Tony?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. She bloodied his nose, and then some. So don’t act up. I have a feeling she won’t tolerate it.”

“Thanks, Alex. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He left the room with a little less bounce in his step. Alex hoped she’d given him enough of a scare. Mark was a good guy, a little on the hyper side, and occasionally obnoxious, but still a good friend. She’d miss that smile of his, if Teren ripped his face off.

Chapter Seven

Alex had retired to her cubicle when her phone rang.

“Alex Reis.”

“How much do you love me, Alex?” Alex recognized Jenny’s voice.

“Well, that’ll depend on what you’ve done for me lately.”

“I’m hurt. Did you think I wouldn’t come through for you?”

“No, Jen, it wasn’t that; I knew you’d come through. The only question was whether or not it would really help. I guess I’m waiting.”

“Well, I hope it’ll help. Remember, if it does, you owe the gang over here lunch.”

“Right, I remember. Tell me what you found.”

“Most everything is on its way to your fax number. I’ll try to make it short and sweet if you want.”

“Please.”

“Nothing much on Teren Mylos. A checking account, savings, and a few investments here and there. There’s no record, of course, and her tax records are sealed. It appears her family is dead. She had a brother, but he died as a child. There’s a driver’s license on file for her, and she owns a ‘98 Nissan Sentra, and a motorcycle.”

“Okay, I thought we were just going over the basics, here, Jen.”

“Sorry. There’s just one other thing on Mylos. A hospital record. Seems she was severely injured a few months ago. While the report lists gun shot wounds, there’s no mention of how she received them.”

“Yeah, I knew she’d been shot. Anything on Mather or Wilford?”

“Well, Wilford, yes. There are two bank accounts in his name. One, in Baltimore, shows normal activity over the past six years. The one in New York, however, is only five months old, and has been the recipient of several cash deposits. Each deposit has been in excess of five thousand dollars.”

“Good job, Jen. But if they were cash deposits, we’ll have a devil of a time finding where the money came from.”

“It sure didn’t come from any job, the guy hasn’t had one in six months. But he’s sure been spending like he did.”

“How so?”

“Well, since I was having a hard time getting anything on Watson or Mather, I did a general search of any and all records, all along the east coast, for all four names. I’m still waiting on a few bots to come back, but I did get lots of large purchases by Darryl. Seems he just loves guns.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. Bought several classic M-16’s at a gun show in Atlanta, along with —”

“Atlanta?”

“Yeah. He stayed at a luxury hotel down there. And not just there, but Florida, New York, Philadelphia —”

Alex almost yelled into the phone. “PHILLY?”

“Yes. And get this – he never checked out of that one. Checked in two weeks ago, and paid cash for three weeks. He’s still listed as a registered guest.”

“Holy shit – Jen, is this in the report you faxed to me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. I want you to fax it to Ken Thomas in Philadelphia.”

“Everything, or just the stuff about Wilford?”

“Hell, send him the whole damned thing, but make sure you underline the part about the hotel.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll call and let him know it’s coming. Thanks, Jen.”

“No problem, Alex. Glad I could help. I’ll let you know when those other bots come back.”

“Thanks again. And Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you lots. I owe you guys lunch.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Next week. I promise. Bye, Jen.”

Alex hung up and shouted, “Yes!”

David poked his head in. “Alex? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She picked up the phone, dialing and talking to him. “When did you get back?”

“Just a few minutes ago. I can’t stay long, Ben and I have Ricky Wilford downstairs. When we told him his brother was dead, he freaked.”

“Is Ben with him?”

“Yeah. We thought it was best, though, if we have Cliff observe, and I thought I’d ask you as well.”

“Hang on, Dave.” She shifted her attention to the phone. “Ken? Alex. You’re about to get a fax to the Philadelphia office. It’s from Jenny in research. She found Darryl Wilford’s hotel room.”

“No shit?”

“Nope. And he never checked out. He paid cash for three weeks, and it’s been two and a half. The hotel probably hasn’t touched his stuff.”

“Tell Jenny I love her.”

“Will do. How’d you guys do with Brogan?”

“I think we scared him. He looked nervous from the beginning, and I think we made it a lot worse. But I’ll tell you, I wish you and David were here. Interrogation was never my strong suit.”

“Maybe later. Right now, I have to go read Jen’s report, and David has to interrogate Ricky Wilford.”

“Ricky?”

“Yeah. Darryl’s younger brother. He works at the store the Colt was stolen from.”

“No shit. Well, good, tell Dave I said to jump all over his ass.”

She grinned at her partner, who was still standing in the doorway, a shocked look on his face.

“I’ll pass along the message, Ken. Go find your fax.”

“I’m on my way.”

Alex hung up and turned toward David.

“The hotel?”

“Yeah, the Doubletree. Who knows, maybe there’ll be fingerprints from the guys who hired them, eh?”

“With the luck you and Mark had today, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

*******************************************************

Ricky Wilford was just twenty three years old. He’d been working at Riley’s Sporting Goods in Baltimore for four years. From a salesman, he’d advanced to assistant manager. Riley’s was planning on opening a second store, close to Annapolis. Wilford was being groomed to be that manager.

Now, however, it appeared he may never get that promotion. In fact, he’d probably lose his job.

It took two hours, but after constant questioning, Wilford broke down crying. He admitted giving his brother his set of keys to the store, and had explained how the alarm system worked. The plan, he said, was that Darryl and his friends would enter the store, steal the weapons and clean out what money they could find. After resetting the alarm and locking the door, they would then back the truck into the front door, so as not to leave the idea that they had used any keys.

Ricky’s part, besides loaning the keys, was to disable the security cameras.

The members of the task force who were still at the office had gathered in the control center once again. Ben and David were relating the results of their interrogation to the rest of the team.

“We asked him who all was involved, and he said it was his brother, and his brothers friends.” Ben leaned back drinking a cup of coffee. “I asked him if it was George Mather, and he said no, George was out of town.”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, right about then he was probably in eastern Europe, getting his buddies shot up.”

“Well, Tom and I are planning to go to the hotel Wilford stayed at, right after we check in with NYPD. Maybe someone will remember him, and whether or not he met with anyone else.” Rudy and his partner Tom Jorgen would be leaving for New York City that evening. Tom had gone home to pick up his bag. He’d meet Rudy at the airport.

“You might also check with the NGA office up there, Rudy. They call this one in Washington the national office, but it’s mainly a lobbying center. The one in New York is supposed to be member support.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be happy to show an FBI agent around, Alex.”

“You never know. Besides, if you tell them you’re investigating the murder of one of their members, they might even be nice.”

“Good point. I guess in a way we are doing that, aren’t we?”

The agents shared a grin at that.

Cliff was tapping his fingers on the table. “David, Ben, couldn’t your suspect give you any names at all?”

“Nope,” Ben replied. “He said he never liked the guys, and only met ‘em once or twice.”

“Damn. That means we really didn’t get new information from him, did we?”

“We did get one thin’. We got an address. As soon as Mark’s done, he and I are gonna go see what Mr. Wilford’s apartment can tell us.”

“Good going. Call the Nightwatch here if you need back up or the lab boys.”

“Will do.”

Cliff looked over the notes he’d made during the day. “By the way, Alex, I understand you got a call from ballistics?”

“Yeah, Mike Clarin confirmed a seventy-five percent probability that the rifle used to kill Steven Fletcher was a Romanian Dremov 39 millimeter.”

“Why’d it take him so long?”

“Dremovs are illegal in the states, and they don’t see many used because they’re so expensive. He had to dig to find the pattern in the database, but once he compared them, he said they were a good match. Without the gun, he can’t go higher than seventy-five percent in his report. He personally thinks it’s more like ninety, but he won’t say that officially.”