Текст книги "What Lies Behind"
Автор книги: J. T. Ellison
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Chapter 39
Fletcher’s house
SAM’S PHONE RANG. It was a 202 exchange, but she didn’t recognize the number. She answered, anyway.
“Dr. Owens? Agent Owens? Uh... This is Peggy at GW. We talked earlier about Dr. Bromley?”
“Doctor is fine. Thanks for getting back to me. Were you able to find him?”
“No, ma’am, because my info was wrong. He got back into the country yesterday, and he should be at his office. I tried calling over there, but no one answered. He might have gone home because of the jet lag, but I know he likes to do some work right away when he gets back, just trying to catch up, and sometimes he turns off the phones. I left a message on his cell for him to call you, but if you really need to talk to him now, you might just head on over there and try to see him in person. If I talk to him, I’ll tell him to expect you.”
“Peggy, you deserve a raise. Thank you for following up.”
She told Fletcher.
“Good. We’re heading there now,” he said.
They sent Daniels to join the surveillance team looking for Robin Souleyret, and sent Mouse on her merry path to follow the money trail, with extreme injunctions to keep her mouth shut. She’d assured them she wouldn’t say anything to anyone—she knew which side her bread was buttered on—and had given Sam the key to the encryption codes so they could access the SD card’s multilevels of security in Fletcher’s office.
Sam was sorry to see the girl go. She was smart and funny, and had added a bit of needed levity to the day, despite the horrifying information she’d uncovered. She made a good teammate.
In the car, Fletcher got on the phone with Hart, who’d tracked down the gray Honda that had been lurking around the Cattafi crime scene, so Sam took five minutes to write up her notes, trying to prioritize. The information they were uncovering was coming fast and furious, and she wanted to be sure they had all the threads together. They needed to find Amanda’s laptop, which Sam was certain had more information on it. They needed to know who the SD card was meant for. Sam assumed it was Girabaldi, but perhaps it was for Robin Souleyret.
Why kill the renters? Why kill Amanda? Why try to take out Cattafi? And who the hell was manufacturing the superbug?
There were too many whys floating around. So much information, so many threads. They needed Bromley, needed to understand what, exactly, he and Tommy Cattafi were up to, whether they had indeed developed a vaccine against the superbug. They needed the samples Amanda had smuggled into the country themselves. They needed to find out where the hell Robin Souleyret was hiding in plain sight; Daniels’s tail had reported in that she was not at her residence. The afternoon was slipping away, and Sam was starting to get tired.
She made Fletcher stop at Starbucks so she could grab a large coffee. She offered to get him one, but he demurred, running into the market across the street for a Diet Coke. While she was in line, she called Xander.
“Where are you?” He sounded stressed, and she felt bad. He needed her. She knew just how hard this morning must have been for him, and here she was, completely caught up in this case.
“We’re at the Starbucks in Foggy Bottom. There is so much going on with this case I can barely keep it straight. Are you okay?”
“I am, but, Sam, I need you here. As soon as possible.”
He wasn’t kidding, and he wasn’t asking. She recognized his tone; he was in operational mode. Something bad was happening. “I’ll come right now. I’ll have Fletcher drop me off. He can survive without me for a while.”
Xander got quiet for a minute, then said, “No, actually, stick with Fletcher. Stick to him like glue. He can keep you safe. I trust him.”
His tone made her anxious. She stepped closer to the window, edging herself between the glass and the wall, looked outside. Living with Xander, who was a Ranger through and through despite the fact he no longer worked for the government, had instilled a sense of danger in her. She was more wary, had a different level of focus as she moved around the city, was more attuned to her surroundings. She immediately began watching to see if anyone was paying attention to her. From what she could see, no one was. She pitched her voice low. “What’s wrong, Xander? What’s going on?”
“Remember the code I gave you for your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it on and call me back.”
The “code” was an encryption key that allowed her to make secure calls. He really was into something. She did as he asked, inputting the code, waiting for the dial tone to beep at her three times to indicate it was encrypted and active, then called him back.
“Okay, I’m secure. Xander, what in the world is wrong?”
“The man I killed this morning was a pro. We thought he was hired to kill my principal, James Denon.”
“You thought?”
“It’s looking like he wasn’t the target, that someone on his staff was. The problem is, we’re missing one of his people. We’re looking for her now. French national using the name Juliet Bouchard. She came in with his team three days ago, but she wasn’t with them when they were flying home, and she’s not listed on any manifests leaving the country. Nor does she have a visa on file. I’m pretty sure she’s behind the assassination attempt.”
Sam felt a punch of recognition when she heard the name. “Bouchard. Bouchard. Why does that name sound familiar?”
“You’ve heard of this woman?”
The barista at the counter called Sam’s name. “Hang on a sec, my drink’s ready.” She grabbed the coffee, dumped in cream and sugar, enough to give her a real boost, then headed back out onto the street, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. She used her bottom to push open the door.
“Sam? Talk to me.”
“I’m here, babe. I’m just thinking.” She set her coffee on top of Fletcher’s vehicle, opened the door. And then it hit her, where she’d seen the name, and her blood went cold. The list of Amanda’s aliases. Juliet Bouchard was one of them.
“Xander. I know who she is. And I know where she is.”
“Tell me, right now. I need to lock her down.”
“You’re too late. The woman’s real name is Amanda Souleyret. And she’s in the morgue.”
* * *
Sam put Xander on the speaker and filled him in on everything she knew as Fletcher drove them to Bromley’s office. He absorbed the story, asking only one question.
“Do you have any idea who might have killed Souleyret?”
“There’s only one suspect right now. Her sister, Robin,” Fletcher answered.
“The spook? Great. Where exactly is Robin Souleyret?”
Sam glanced at Fletcher. “That’s what we want to know.”
“Listen, can you do some background on Denon, see if he has any official ties to Souleyret or the State Department? Might save us some time, if we can find the name of the company Amanda was investigating in Denon’s files,” Fletcher said. “Look at Regina Girabaldi, too.”
Xander whistled. “That Girabaldi?”
“Yes. She’s into this, we just don’t know in what capacity.”
“I’ll add her to the mix. Listen, though the threat level might have gone down if Souleyret is dead, someone killed her, and until you find the sister, I won’t be sitting easy. I’m not kidding when I say keep Sam close, Fletcher.”
“You know I will,” he replied. “We’re at Bromley’s office right now. We’ll touch base when we get out.”
“One more thing. Bouchard—Amanda Souleyret—she suggested Denon hire me and Chalk to do his protection detail here in the States. Souleyret may have involved us for some reason, and if she did, I intend to find out exactly why. We’re looking into everything he’s done since he set foot on our soil. She may have involved you on purpose, too, Sam. Made sure you’d be called in to work this case. Please be careful.”
“I hear you, though I think I’m simply a coincidence. Baldwin put me on the case because he was tied up on another.”
“This woman was murdered a block from our house. That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
“Not everything is a conspiracy, Xander. Cattafi happened to live near the school I teach at, one he attended himself. This isn’t Timothy Savage all over again.”
“Just be aware, hon. I killed a guy this morning. The media’s already tracked me here. How long do you think it will take them to start putting the parts together?”
“Then we’ll work faster. You mind your six, soldier.”
She heard a snort of amusement. “Since it’s such a pretty six, I will do my best.”
She hung up and looked at Fletcher. “Some good news there.”
“What? That the media is hounding your boyfriend?” he said, pulling up to the curb.
“No, goof. If Amanda brought the vials in on Denon’s plane, they mustn’t be dangerous in and of themselves. If we’d found out she’d brought them stowed in a specialized container, or taken clear precautions to negate the danger, I’d be much more worried. She must have had them in her bags, perhaps in a small cooler. I think Denon and his people would have noticed if she were trying to hide something lethal.”
“We’ll want to ask, but I hope you’re right, Sam. I’ve got a headache just thinking about those diseases.”
She looked him over, concerned, but he smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing some Advil won’t fix. Do you have any?”
She fished a bottle from her bag, dumped two in his hand. He downed them, then tossed a POLICE card on the dash of his car. “Let’s do this.”
Sam glanced around before she got out of the car, just in case. She saw nothing out of place. The street was crawling with coeds and businesspeople and runners, all wrapping up their afternoons, beginning the slow march into night. The normalcy hid a multitude of sinners, and she didn’t feel entirely safe until they’d gone through the revolving doors and entered the cool lobby of Bromley’s building.
There was a metal detector, two guards standing near it and a workman in a leather tool belt perched on a small ladder, the mechanism panel pulled off to show dangling wires. More guards were at the desk; they were all on alert.
Fletcher badged them, jerked a head toward the repairs. “Problems?”
“As always. Who’re you here to see?”
“Dr. David Bromley.”
“Fourth floor. Mind signing in?”
Sam reached for the pen. She scanned the list of names as she wrote hers down. Something was odd. The list had a Fred Horace, a Jennifer Wilde, then a Jorace Filde.
“Fletcher. Look at this.”
She pointed at the name. His brows pulled together. “Weird.”
“Purposeful? Or am I just being totally paranoid?”
“You’re being appropriately paranoid.” He signaled to the guard. “Do you remember these people? Do you have any identification on them?”
“Just the cameras.” He pointed to the camera over the desk. “Don’t know if it’s working, though. Pretty much everything electronic on the first floor got all kinds of wonky this afternoon.”
Fletcher tapped his fingers on the counter. “We’re going up to Bromley’s office. You pull the camera feed for this time slot. I need to see who this person is.”
The guard looked exceedingly uncomfortable. “Uh, sir, do you have a warrant? ’Cause the building management won’t like that a bit.”
“Get on the phone with them, tell them we’re looking for a murder suspect who may have been in the building. And if they give you any crap, come up and get me. I’ll talk to them directly. Can you do that?”
He nodded. “Why not? Everything else around here is screwy today.”
Fletcher motioned for Sam to follow him, and they went to the elevators. Once the doors were closed, he said, “Good catch. Think Robin has been here already?”
“It stands to reason. First she visits her sister’s town house, then Cattafi, then stops here? I’d say she’s looking for something.”
They were whisked up to the fourth floor, out into the tan carpeted fluorescently lit hallway. Bromley’s office was halfway down the hall. The door was locked. Fletcher banged on it a few times, but no one answered.
“Damn it. Not answering the phone, not answering the door. Where the hell is this guy?”
“Fletcher. We’d better get security to let us in.”
He turned to her. “Why?”
Sam pointed at the floor. There was a small smudge of red on the carpet.
“Aww...shit.”
Chapter 40
Bromley’s office
THE INTERIOR OF Bromley’s office was splashed with a vivid red. They could see a body from the doorway. The scent of blood was rich and fresh in the air—whoever this was, he hadn’t been dead for very long. He was young with black hair, and Sam knew from the photos on the wall he wasn’t David Bromley.
While Fletcher called it in, Sam edged carefully into the room, taking gloves from her pocket. She used her phone to take a few pictures, wanting to preserve the integrity of the room as much as possible before they stepped inside.
Fletcher grabbed her arm, making her jump. He whispered in her ear. “You, stop. Stay right here. I need to make sure we don’t have any company.”
She nodded, let him lead the way. He had his gun out. When the guard from downstairs arrived, they cleared the office. She stood watching the dead body in the outer office, saw his twisted leg, the gunshot to his knee, his crushed face, the disarray. There’d been a huge fight here, and he’d lost. The question was, who the hell was he, and who had he encountered?
And if this was Robin Souleyret’s work, they needed more gun power. Maybe a couple of Abrams battle tanks.
A few moments later, Fletcher called out to Sam, “Come back here, carefully.”
She followed his voice down the hall, and found him standing over another body.
“Bromley?” she asked.
The guard nodded. He was pale, but holding it together. “God, oh, God. Yes, it’s Dr. Bromley. He came in this morning real early, right at the beginning of my shift. How could he do this? I don’t understand. He didn’t seem the suicidal type, you know?”
“The man in the anteroom, does he work here, too? He wasn’t wearing lab clothes,” Fletcher said.
“Him, I’ve never seen. I don’t know who that is. Someone really did a number on him. I don’t recall him coming through security today, but I had a break at lunchtime.”
Fletcher stepped back, motioned for them both to do the same, so they were at least less likely to contaminate the crime scene further. “Now you want to get that camera footage rolling for me, buddy?”
“I was checking it out when you called me up here, Lieutenant. There’s a problem with it, like I told you. Everything from this afternoon is erased. It’s almost like we had a power surge. Something weird happened. The metal detector goes down all the time, but this was everything—cameras, the machines, even some of the guys’ phones.”
“That sounds like more than a power surge.”
Sam shoved her hands into the pockets of her pants. “It sounds like a deliberate attack. Like someone needed to get in here and didn’t want to be seen. I wonder who that might be?”
Fletcher nodded at her from across Bromley’s body. “Look.” He pointed at the small piece of paper left carelessly near the body. He took a picture of its placement, then picked it up with a gloved hand and read it aloud.
“‘Do I have your attention yet?’ Yes, by God, you do.”
Sam’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen. “It’s Nocek. Maybe we’ll get some answers.” She stepped into the hall and answered the phone.
Nocek was excited. “Samantha, I have most gratifying news. We know what sort of poison was used on the young men. You were very quick to think of having the samples sent ahead.”
“We’re in a time crunch, Amado, and I have more bad news. Two more bodies related to this case. So thank you for taking me seriously and running the blood. What did you find?”
“Scopolamine and morphine.”
“That’s an odd pairing. An anticholinergic mixed with an opioid? I’d be more inclined to expect that in a 1940s delivery room than now.”
“You are correct. It is not a commonly used concoction now.”
“It would be a painless way to go. Easy to administer, too—no taste, no scent, no color. Just mix it in water and feed it to your victim. It would explain why their mucosa was red.”
“Painless, yes. And simple to acquire. More importantly, if one were an expert in its use, if administered properly, it would also induce a state of well-being, bordering on hypnotic.”
She sucked in her breath. She knew exactly where he was going. “The CIA used to use scopolamine for interrogations. It was one of the first effective truth serums. The renters were questioned before they were killed. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“As always, Dr. Owens, your astuteness astounds even me. Yes, I believe this to be the case. And the sample from Michael Oread registered nearly twice the dosage given to Jared Lanter. I will be paying special attention to each man’s time of death to see if there is a differential that would prove this theory.”
“Do you think Oread was killed first? It would make sense. If you’re trying to get information out of someone, killing the second person would give them incentive to cooperate.”
“I think that may be the case, yes.”
“Thank you, Amado. Call me if you find anything else interesting. And I’m sure you’re going to be getting a call to come here, so I’ll give you the information.” She rattled off the address and suite number. “I won’t be here. I have another stop to make. But be careful, and have your people paying attention. We have someone on a spree, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I would extend the same warning to you, my dear. Be very careful.”
* * *
Sam told Fletcher Nocek’s theory. He was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to get out of there and track down Robin Souleyret. When she told him the possible reasoning behind the specific drugs given to the renters, he started shaking his head.
“Should have known we were dealing with Agency crap when Girabaldi dragged us in this morning. This all leads back to her. She’s trying to pull us in to clean up her mess. She’s going to dump this whole case at our feet and blame us for not stopping these deaths. I can already see the press conference.”
The security guard stationed by the door to wait for the crime scene techs gawked at Fletcher. Sam grabbed Fletcher’s arm and pulled him deeper into the lab.
“Whoa there, cowboy. Don’t let anyone else hear you say that. She’s a very powerful woman with a lot of friends.”
“And a rogue agent from her past tying up loose ends.”
“Do you really think Robin Souleyret killed her own sister?”
“I don’t know, Sam, but at this point? We’re five bodies down in a twenty-four-hour stretch, with another clinging to life. We have notes from the scenes that are giving us some sort of message. Talk of cell regeneration, zombies in Africa, tainted vaccines. Pressure from the State Department. Some big muckety-muck out of England helping Amanda Souleyret get into the country. Despite all this information, we don’t know anything more than we did this morning, and I’ve got another four murders to deal with. I am not at all happy.”
“I know. We need someone good to take apart Bromley’s records, see if we can find anything that might help explain what he and Cattafi were doing.”
“I’m thinking it’s time we push Girabaldi a bit. See what we can shake loose. If she’d been clearer with us this morning, we might have gotten ahead of this.”
Sam thought about it for a minute. “I understand the urge, but Fletcher, again, Bromley’s been dead since this morning at least, well before we got pulled into State. I think finding Robin Souleyret is the primary goal right now. Whether she’s our suspect, or she’s working the case of her sister’s death on her own, a face-to-face is imperative. What did Hart tell you about the Honda Accord that was circling the crime scene? Could that have been her?”
“It wasn’t a woman, it was a guy. Hart said he claimed to be looking for ‘companionship,’ trolling the late-night Georgetown scene before heading downtown for some action. He wasn’t sure about him. Said the dude was weird. He’s going to do a background check on him, see if anything pops.”
“All right. Let’s go down and see what the tapes say, see if Robin Souleyret was even here. Then I think it would be smart to hook up with Xander. See what he and his partner, Chalk, have come up with. They have a tie into this case now, too. And Baldwin is flying back as we speak. He has more information for us that he couldn’t share over the phone about Robin’s background. We have a lot of balls in the air, and to be honest, I think it’s time to regroup before we go marching into the State Department and start making accusations. You good with that?”
He blew out a breath. “I’m good with that.”
* * *
Sam hung back while Fletcher and the guards went over the footage from the day. Thought about everything—about the senseless murders, the secrets and lies. Wondered about James Denon. She knew the name, of course; he was in the news often. What was his tie to the tainted vaccines?
She wasn’t an idiot—the pattern was clear. Everywhere they went, they seemed to be just missing the elder Souleyret sister. And in her wake was a deluge of dead bodies, killed in a variety of manners and methods. There was no way they couldn’t consider Robin Souleyret as a suspect, at least until she was caught and questioned.
Something else was niggling at her, and she knew exactly what it was. She simply couldn’t imagine Robin killing her little sister. Yes, the woman was black ops, which meant she followed orders and knew how to keep to the shadows. Yes, she had a record of assassinations longer than Sam’s arm. But it would have to be one hell of a head injury to allow her to stab her own sister in the back.
Thought some more, about life. About what it must be like to be out on your own, making life and death decisions on a daily basis, the subterfuge that went into that kind of existence, the ability to go for extended periods without touching base with anyone. Xander had been in the business himself, in a way. She knew how hard it had been on him. Surely it was hard on Robin Souleyret, as well. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t totally alone in this world.
Fletcher was arguing with the head of security now. She left him to it, dialed her Doberman, Marcos Daniels. He answered on the first ring.
“Dr. Owens? Can I help you?”
“I hope you can, Agent Daniels. Anything show up from the surveillance on Robin Souleyret’s place?”
“No, ma’am. Nothing. She’s not there, and we haven’t seen her go boo yet. The girl’s in the wind.”
“Maybe not entirely. She’s almost certainly in D.C. I think someone’s helping her, and it’s time to put some pressure on.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“First, find out who Robin might be working with. Even though she’s a sole operator and used to being on her own, she needs resources—money, weapons, everything. Find out who might be offering her succor. See if she has a man, or any record of boyfriends or girlfriends, all that jazz. These people can’t operate without a little help from their friends. I don’t think she’s on a sanctioned job, but just in case, you might want to take a look at our friends from Langley, too.”
“Got it.”
“And then, I need you to do a massive triage on Amanda Souleyret. Find me anyone and everyone she’s been in contact with in the past few weeks. Crash her systems, get into her email, rumble her life, everything you know how to do, and do it fast. Can you do that?”
“I can. Sure wish Mouse was around. That girl...” He drifted off.
“Call her in. Tell her we’ll pay her as a consultant. Make her sign every nondisclosure agreement we have, and make it very clear to her what the parameters are.” She went silent for a second, then said, “You did get her number, didn’t you, Daniels?”
“Um, yes, ma’am, I did.”
She couldn’t help it; she smiled. She thought she’d caught a flicker of interest between them. “Good. If you hit a brick wall with Amanda’s real accounts, try tying in the name Juliet Bouchard. It’s an alias she was using. I’m assuming, if she’s any good at her job, that the legend is backstopped well. Find the legend, and we’ll start finding some answers. Get moving. Report to me only, do you understand? And, Daniels? Watch your tracks. Robin Souleyret is a suspect now, and she’s dangerous. All right?”
“On it, ma’am. I’ll be back to you soon.”
He hung up, and she pocketed her phone. Maybe working for the FBI wouldn’t be all bad. And this protected Fletcher completely. If he didn’t know what she was up to, it wouldn’t rain down on his head. She was pretty damn sure Baldwin would have done exactly the same thing. Which meant he’d have her back.
Or she was becoming power-hungry.
Fletcher huffed over to her. “Who were you talking to?”
“Daniels. Checking on our surveillance. So far, we’ve got nada.”
“The security guard was right. The tapes were wiped. Not only from the afternoon, either. Whatever happened cleaned the whole day.”
“And what do you think happened?”
“Some sort of electronic surge, that’s my best guess.”
“Robin Souleyret has a great deal of electronic experience, yes?”
“Yes, she does.”
“I’m not up on all the latest spy technology, but I assume it’s very possible to have a micro-EMP made that would only work in a small area?”
“Entirely possible. Hell, you can get directions to make one of those on the internet—it’s not hard.”
“Then let’s throw that in as the possible cause of the problem and move along.”
The doors opened and the crime scene techs started rolling through, and Hart arrived right behind them.
When he saw Fletcher, he narrowed his eyes and marched over. “What in the name of hell is going on? We got bodies and crime scenes coming out our ears.”
“We’re trying to find out.” Fletcher filled him in as best he could. “We’re going to Sam’s place and regroup.” Hart smelled like pizza—he’d grabbed a slice on his way over—and Sam heard Fletcher’s stomach growl. “And eat, hopefully. Been a long time since lunch.”
“Ah,” Hart said. “You’ve got Xander the wunderkind working on this, don’t you?”
Sam smiled. “He found a link between his principal and Amanda Souleyret. I can only imagine what he’ll have for us when we get there.”
“Before you go, I have some bad news,” Hart said, and Fletcher groaned.
“More bad news? This day keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”
“The vaccines from Cattafi’s place never made it to the CDC lab they were supposedly heading to. It’s taken a while to sort through everything, but the gist is this—the CDC claims they were never contacted, and never picked up the vaccines.”
“What? Who the hell signed out the vaccines?” Fletcher asked tightly.
“The signature is scribbled, so we don’t have a name. He said he was from the CDC, picked up the vaccines from HAZMAT, signed all the paperwork, got in his car and left. Got him on camera—a big guy, wearing a ball cap with the name of a courier company that doesn’t exist on it. He’s gone, and the evidence is gone with him.”
Fletcher turned white with anger. “Holy shit. Holy shit, people. We are well and truly fucked.”
“Fletcher, now it’s time to call Girabaldi,” Sam said. “Everyone who’s tangled up in this case or discovers a facet of it is being tracked down and eliminated. We can’t contain the story if we can’t stop the people involved from being killed. Not to mention whoever is behind this has their hands on the vaccines. This is not good, and we need to move quickly.”
He breathed deeply a few times, thinking, then nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right. Girabaldi is the key. I just don’t know which side she’s on.”
Sam shook her head. “I don’t, either.”
“We’ll head over there right now, explain what’s been happening, and that we’re going public. We can’t let those vaccines be used against us. I will not have a terror attack in this city on my watch.”
“That’s a good plan, boss. I’m with you. You be careful,” Hart said.
“Yeah. You, too.”
Fletcher gave Hart some directions on what to recover from upstairs, and they set off, knowing the crime scene was well in hand.
They stepped out into the cooling fall evening. Sam had the oddest sense of dislocation. The gloaming was hovering around them, everything so clear, so perfect, and for that fraction of a moment as the sun began to set, light bouncing off the windshields of the cars lined up at the meters on the street, she saw the world around her with an unearthly clarity. It made her uneasy; things were too far out of control.
They started toward Fletcher’s car, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a car turn onto the street. A black sedan, very similar to the one Edgar Poe had described. The window started down.
Sam turned abruptly, grabbed Fletcher’s arm and pulled him toward her just as the bullet crashed into the building behind her.
