Текст книги "What Lies Behind"

Автор книги: J. T. Ellison

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Chapter 49

Potomac River

ROBIN HADN’T BEEN compromised, that she knew for sure. She was vulnerable, yes, she had the last vestiges of a head injury lingering about, was shattered by the death of her little sister and her mother’s constant betrayals, but she wasn’t compromised. She was going to end this before it spread any further.

First, she needed weapons. She wasn’t about to go into the breach unarmed.

The gun the Secret Service agent carried was already in her pocket. She started combing through Riley’s place, looking for guns and ammo, anything that might help. She found his gun safe in the small, tailored closet in his tiny bedroom. A combination lock and a key, double fail-safes. Shit. If she could only get back to her own place, she had an arsenal there. But she knew the cops had to be crawling all over it by now. Home was no longer an option.

She was surprised to feel the loss of her sanctuary keenly, wondered if she’d ever be able to go home again, but pushed away the emotional intrusion and kept searching. She found the safe’s key taped to the back of a painting of a sunset in the bathroom. She inserted it into the gun safe lock, turned it. One part down.

Think, Robin. Riley wasn’t trying to keep people out of his safe. Not really. It was for defense, but he was more likely to stay constantly on offense. He’d want to be able to get into it, and quickly. So if Riley was in a hurry, what would the simplest code be?

000.

She lined up the numbers, and the safe opened. She laughed to herself. Riley hadn’t expected her to toss his place looking for weapons. He hadn’t taken enough precautions. Regardless of what he’d been expecting, it was sloppy. Which surprised her. Riley wasn’t normally the sloppy type.

She pulled out a 5.56 Tracking Point 500 series AR, admired the state-of-the-art long-range weapon for a moment, followed it with a 9mm Smith & Wesson M&P. The TP AR would be good for a long-range shot, and it fit well against her back if she needed to run. She slapped on a leg holster with a K-Bar knife in the sheath, filled a pouch with multiple magazines for the handgun, and an extra clip for the AR, strapped it to her waist. She slammed the door to the safe and returned the key to its hiding place. If she couldn’t take them down with this arsenal, it was time for her to quietly retire.

She needed to call Lola, get her brain moving on things.

She picked up Riley’s phone, started dialing the number, then stopped and set the phone gently back in the cradle.

Don’t trust anyone, Robin.

Maybe Gina was right. Maybe she was better off handling things herself. The only problem was, she didn’t know where to start.

She needed some help. Riley’s unsecured desktop computer was sitting on his desk. She booted it up, hijacked the system, bypassed the passcode, encrypted the hell out of the system and was in.

It took her fifteen precious minutes to get all the addresses, phone numbers and maps she needed. She turned the computer off, picked up the phone and made a single call. She had to talk to Atlantic. She had to find out what was going on.

She was shocked when he answered.

“Riley?”

“No, sir, it’s Souleyret. I’m at Riley’s place.”

“Where is he?” There was a note of urgency in his voice she’d never heard before.

“I don’t know, sir. He told me you sent him to clean up my mess.” There was an edge to her own words, but she’d long ago stopped being frightened of powerful men. Atlantic could have her murdered in her sleep if he wanted, but why would he? She was an asset to him, until the moment she stopped being one. When he’d brought her on board, he’d pledged that he would let her know when she stopped being of use to him. It was nice to know she would be informed of her own expiration date.

Atlantic was quiet for a moment, then she heard a sigh. “I was afraid of this.”

She was shocked at her anger, but there was no stopping it now. “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment. I’ll just go off quietly and eat a bullet. Will that do for you? Sir?”

“Robin. Riley is unsanctioned.”

The words hit her like a speeding train. “What did you say?”

“I have been searching for answers to your sister’s death since you called me this morning. I unearthed some tremendously frightening information. Riley has been working with Jason Kruger at the State Department. He is a part of an organization known as Pyramid. They come from Tripoli, an offshoot of al Qaeda. They went to Africa to raise an army. Their scientists, who have been funded handsomely over the past few years, were tasked with finding a way to attack the United States and Israel. These cowards are behind the terrorist attack planned on American soil tomorrow. I understand Mr. Kruger is dead, and the samples Amanda brought into the US are missing. They have stolen them. Riley has stolen them. There has been increasing chatter about an attack coming shortly. They’re planning to release a genetically modified superbug into the United States. They’ve been working on several different delivery methods. Water. Vaccines. Grenades. Putting sick people into airplanes. Their theory is, if they spread it widely enough, chances are good they can sicken thousands of people. This superbug kills in forty-eight hours, and it’s airborne. We will have a pandemic on our hands almost immediately.”

She felt the world breaking into fragments around her. Riley. Riley was behind this. All his anger today, his comfort, his words.

I can’t do this anymore.

He didn’t kill your sister.

She thought her heart might burst from her chest, the blood pumping so hard she could feel the individual beats against her ribs. “Did you know this threat was under way?”

“Yes. But we didn’t know who the players were. Now we know some of them. Maureen Heedles, who worked R and D for James Denon. Jason Kruger from State. We have the name of an organization. It will take time to track down all those involved, but we have a beginning.”

“And Riley is a part of this. Are you absolutely certain?”

“I am. I’m sorry. I know you have been friends for some time.” The word friends floated from the phone, spinning lazily in the air, tinged in green.

You could call it that, she thought, then her stomach seized and she fought down a sickening bout of nausea. Riley, who’d been helping her recover, who’d slid into her bed and into her body with ease. The head injury had forced down her walls. She’d been vulnerable for the first time in her adult life.

And he’d taken advantage of her temporary lull.

Gina was right, after all. She had been compromised.

Riley had been using her this whole time. He’d been waiting, biding his time, knowing exactly what Amanda was working on. That was why he’d always inquired after her. Not every day, just sprinkled into conversation here and there.

Where’s Amanda these days? What is she up to?

I’d love to meet her sometime. Does she ever come back to the States?

She must be pretty important if you can’t touch base with her. Where did you say she worked again?

Innocuous chatter. Getting-to-know-you conversations. Fucking pillow talk.

She’d walked into the oldest trick in the book. Seduction.

Robin stared out into the dark water, listened to its hypnotic lapping, the maddeningly regular splashes against the hull of the boat as the tide forced its way into the marshes. He who controls the tides... She had no choice. Riley had killed her sister. She had to take him down. There was no decision to be made here. It was Riley and his terrorists or her.

“Atlantic, where would he be? Where did he go? Do you have eyes on him?”

“He’s shielding himself from us. Or they’re doing it for him. Our satellites over D.C. have been deactivated. That was my first clue Riley had turncoated. We’re awaiting help from the NSA. But until we’re back online, our usual tools are useless.”

“Jesus. And he knows exactly how to make a satellite go dark. Please tell me you have a fix on his tracker.”

“It’s gone. He cut it out of his arm, or he’s lying dead at the bottom of the Potomac, right under your feet.”

“He’s not here. I saw him leave. He must have tossed the tracker as he left.”

Right after he kissed me goodbye.

“I’m sorry, Robin. You’re going to have to use old-fashioned methods to find him. Because he’s managed to blind us. We’ve flagged his passports, all the identities we know of, but you know he has friends. He could be in the air right now, and we’d never know it.”

“Where would he go? Back to Africa? No, sir. He’s here. If they’re planning an attack, he’s going to be in the midst of things. That’s his way.”

“Lola has the names of the other members involved in the day’s events. Kruger is dead. Maureen Heedles has been neutralized, is being taken to the hospital with a gunshot wound. A Spaniard, Senza, was killed this morning trying to eliminate James Denon.”

“I’ve crossed paths with him before. Not sorry he’s gone.”

“And the man you found at Dr. Bromley’s office? He was a French national named Alain Montague. Very nasty business, how we lost him.”

She caught the rebuke. “Yes, I should have left him alive. But why? He was a hired gun. He knew nothing. He’d been sent to kill, and he nearly succeeded.” Riley sent the man to kill you, Robin. Remember that. There could be more.

“Bygones.”

“I’ll find Riley, sir. And I will end him.”

“I trust you know where to start?”

“I do. I’ll report back when I have news.”

She hung up the phone, stared at the arsenal she’d just accumulated. Did a press check on the Glock, and headed into the living room. Girabaldi and her pet Secret Service agent were still dutifully sitting at the table where she’d left them.

“We have a problem,” she said.

“Another?” Girabaldi responded.

“Yes. We need to get you out of here.”

Robin grabbed the shoulder of her mother’s perpetually elegant Chanel jacket and pulled her from her seat. She tossed the agent his gun and backup. “Car. Now.”

He listened, ran to the car, and by the time Robin hurried Girabaldi out of the houseboat, he had the car started. Robin shoved Gina into the backseat and climbed in behind her.

As they drove up the deserted lane, Robin asked, “Do you have a safe house? Someplace you can go that no one knows about?”

“I have a place on the Chesapeake. It’s sheltered. No one can trace it to me.”

“Go there, now. Use your most secure protocols. No phones, nothing that can be used to track you.” She took Girabaldi’s cell and tossed it in the bushes.

“I’m safer with you.”

“No, you’re absolutely not. Our host here is involved in the plot.”

“Riley Dixon? Working against our interests? That’s not possible.”

“It is possible, because it’s true. He’s gone dark. I just talked to our...to a friend, who’s warned me what Riley is really up to. I have to find him and eliminate him. You won’t be safe with me. Head to your beach. Have Fumbles here watch your back.”

The agent gave her an exceptionally dirty look in the rearview. Robin smiled at him. “Let me off on the corner of Prince and South Pitt, then get her the hell out of here. Think you can do that?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

“Good.”

Gina actually looked frightened, something Robin couldn’t remember ever seeing. “What are you planning, Robin? You can’t go up against Riley alone. He’ll see you coming a mile away.”

“No, he won’t.” Robin stared out the window for a moment. “You don’t know me very well, Gina. I will do whatever I must. That’s how I was raised, and that’s how I was trained.”

They were moving quickly now. There was very little traffic. They’d be at her drop-off point in a few minutes.

“Listen to me. You need to disappear. Riley is going to be hard to stop, yes, and I don’t need to be worrying that you’re safe, as well. When you see this splashed on the news, and that we have a resolution, you’ll know it’s time to come home. Can you do that for me? Just trust me for once and disappear?”

Gina nodded. “I’ve always trusted you,” she said quietly. “Be careful, Robin.”

She gave her mother a cocky smile. “I always am.”

Chapter 50

Kruger’s condo

JASON KRUGER LIVED on Connecticut Avenue, a few blocks northwest of the National Zoo. This was an area for professionals; there was a Metro stop almost across the street from his tan brick building, and multiple bars and restaurants spilling late-night light onto the sidewalks. Despite it being nearly two in the morning, there were plenty of people wandering around. It was last call, and the bars were beginning to empty.

Kruger’s building was guarded by a glass door requiring a keycard. There were no cops around. Fletcher’s instincts were right; they’d beaten them to the scene. Sam was about to pick up the phone and ask the condo company to buzz them in when Xander knocked the butt of his SIG hard against the plastic reader, and they heard a familiar buzz. The door was briefly unlocked.

“Where’d you learn that trick?” she asked, scooting inside.

“Denver, actually. Guy out there showed me. It doesn’t work all the time, but there’s a certain frequency that gets interrupted in some of them, and we just got lucky.”

“My little juvenile delinquent.”

He huffed out a laugh. The lobby was dark. They made their way toward the back, found the elevators. Inside, Xander brushed his lips across her forehead. “You hanging in there? It’s been a crazy day.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. But I’m telling you, Xander, the second this case is over, we are moving. I’m sick of my house being used as a halfway station for crime scenes.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She reached for the Glock at her hip, so aware of its strange weight. Hefted the cold, hard metal in her hand. Xander was watching her. “You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, clearly concerned.

Sam didn’t like guns. She didn’t like shooting them, cleaning them, having them around day in and day out. And right now, she abhorred the fact that she held one in her hand. But she wasn’t about to step into Kruger’s apartment without it.

She gave him a half smile. “Yes, I do.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the third floor. They crept down the hall, Xander leading the way, the M4 ready in his hands. The lighting was eerie, on some sort of dimmer, so the walls shone orange. The carpet cushioned their steps, and they made it to apartment 303 without a problem.

Xander shouldered his M4 and pulled a small brown suede case out of his back pocket. His lock picks. Sam the FBI consultant looked the other way. Moments later, the lock disengaged, and Xander slipped inside. She followed, the gun warming in her hand.

Kruger’s home was dark, the milky glow of the streetlamps on Connecticut their only source of light. The furniture was minimalist, modern, black leather with white accents. The walls were covered in tribal masks and wooden sticks. A large black-and-white painting of the Buddha took up nearly the entire living room wall.

It did not look like the home of a terrorist.

Sam put on a pair of purple nitrile gloves. Xander had already pulled on his thin supple leather shooting gloves. At least they wouldn’t contaminate anything.

Xander made a motion with his right hand, which Sam knew meant spread out. He started toward the bedroom. She went directly to the refrigerator. If they were going to get lucky, it might start here.

She swung open the stainless doors. A gust of cool air enveloped her. Aside from a knocked-over bottle of ketchup, some hard cheese and bologna, a four-pack of Innis & Gunn, the fridge was empty.

A hardworking man like Jason Kruger would certainly spend little time at home cooking. Worse, there was no sign of the vaccines.

She felt her earlier hope dissipate. Fletcher had been so sure there was something here. She’d bought into it, feeling the same way. She thought there would be some sort of resolution, something to put a period on this awful day. But there was nothing visible. Their only hope was the computer.

She did a perfunctory search of the rest of the kitchen and dining room, pushing on panels and hoping for the same kind of surprises they’d found in Cattafi’s apartment. Nothing.

The unit was small, only a single bedroom and bath off the living room. Xander rounded back into the living room, shaking his head. His voice was low.

“You need to come see this.”

She followed him into the bedroom. The closet door was ajar. The left half was filled with two rows of hanging clothes, pants and suit coats and shirts, with a double rack for shoes below. Very neat, very organized. The right side held a small, stackable washer and dryer. Xander played his light over the edge. “What’s that?”

Sam got closer. “Blood.” She opened the washer. The contents were wet. Inside was a pair of running shoes, pink-and-orange running shorts, a dark shirt and a dark jacket.

The girls who’d been headed to Cattafi’s apartment said they’d seen a jogger, a woman. The witness Hart had spoken to, the weirdo in the gray Honda, also said he’d seen a woman jogging.

These clothes had to belong to Maureen Heedles. She was the jogger.

“Xander, we have three witnesses from this morning who saw a woman jogging in our neighborhood around the same time as the murder. I think Heedles was telling the truth. She’s our killer. Let’s tear this place apart. Where’s the computer?”

“Over in the corner. I’ve already copied the hard drive.” He dangled a flash drive in front of her.

They started a thorough search of the bedroom. Sam hit pay dirt five minutes in.

“Xander, I’ve got something.” Kruger had a European-style bed with drawers underneath for storage. “There’s a false panel in here. Look what I’ve found.” She held up a cell phone, a thin MacBook Air and a black leather bag. “Wanna bet these are Amanda’s?”

“All the proof we need to tie Heedles directly to Kruger. It’s a thread we need to unravel, though. They were supposed to be in New York. How did she get to D.C. and back without Denon noticing?”

“It was night. Unless they were sharing a bed, I assume she had her own room. It’s a little over three hours by train, and Amtrak has overnight runs between the two cities. Train down, kill Amanda, dump her clothes and the laptop here with Kruger, back on the train up to New York. Boom. You could do the whole shebang in less than eight hours, and it’s faster than driving. Rather elegant, actually.”

“Smart. So what’s Kruger’s role in this?”

“I don’t know. Other than he works for Girabaldi, who used to be Robin’s boss. I think Heedles was meant to appear to be Robin Souleyret. It’s all a big setup, with her as the scapegoat. We need to let Fletcher’s people process the entire place. But we have to take this with us. Let’s go call him, let him know what we’ve got.”

“Sounds good.”

They started back toward the door. Sam noticed light bouncing in the hallway and froze. She grabbed Xander’s hand, pulled him to a stop. Leaned close. “Someone’s out there.”

The light went off, and they heard the distinct sound of a key being inserted into the lock.

Xander moved quickly, blended into the shadows by the door, pulling Sam behind him. He raised the M4 toward the breach.

The door opened gently, silent on its hinges. Someone else was breaking in, trying to be quiet about things. But this person had a key, and it wasn’t Fletcher’s people from Metro.

Xander waited for the bulk of the body to be in the apartment, then reached out with a hand and grabbed whoever was coming in the door.

The world exploded into action.

No longer worried about making noise, Xander yanked the person into the apartment and slammed the door behind them. The battle raged on for a few minutes, the two thumping and pulling and scrabbling, trying to gain purchase on the slick hardwood floor. Sam saw the intruder was small, dressed in black, fists moving at a rapid pace. Fighting, fighting hard. One punch caught Xander on the nose, another in the jaw. Sam felt a warm spray of blood across her hand. She stepped forward into the scrum, caught a kick in the shin.

But Xander was on top now, wrestling the person to the ground. After a breathless curse, Sam realized it was a woman. She saw a flash of blond hair, realized who this must be. Before she could intervene, the woman was pinned on her back, breathing hard. Xander was sitting on her chest, a large K-Bar knife to her throat.

“You broke my nose, you bitch.”

“You shouldn’t have attacked me, then, you stupid oaf. Get off me.”

Sam flashed the light across the woman’s face, which gave her the last bit of confirmation she needed. She sighed heavily.

“Xander. You can let her up. But watch yourself. It’s Robin Souleyret.”

* * *

Seeing the sister gave Sam chills. It was always hard talking to family members of the dead, but when they bore such a striking resemblance to the corpse she’d just worked on, it made things much more difficult.

All her imaginings about Amanda Souleyret went out the window when her sister Robin stood up. It was almost as if Sam could suddenly see the corpse animate, and it gave her the creeps. Eyes that sparkled with life, even in their grief, a dancer’s stride, blond hair in a long bob past her shoulders. Robin was taller than her sister, and a few years older, but the resemblance was uncanny.

Robin had also been through the ringer. She had a well-formed black eye, and new injuries from her altercation with Xander. Her right eye was swelling, her knuckles were abraded. A bruise peeked out of the top of her shirt.

“Had a rough day, I take it?” Sam asked.

Xander was still holding the knife on her, ready to use it if she bolted. She eyed him with distaste. “You could say that.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning. Explain to me why I shouldn’t call Metro and have them come arrest you for murder.”

“I didn’t kill anyone who wasn’t trying to kill me. And I don’t owe you an explanation. I have my own reasons for being here, and now that I see what I’m looking for isn’t available, I’ll be going.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Sam replied coolly. “I can link you to three crime scenes today. Not to mention your sister’s murder. There’s a stack of women’s clothes in the washer, which has blood on it. I don’t doubt that it’s your sister’s. You want to tell me what your connection is to Kruger?”

“Please,” Robin said, rolling her eyes. “Are you accusing me of murdering my sister?”

“Did you?”

“Hardly,” she spat.

Sam knew she couldn’t trust the woman, but a knot released in her chest. She held out the bag with Amanda’s things, and Robin flinched.

“Want to tell me how these got here?”

Souleyret was getting upset now. “I have no idea. I have no connection to this man. I’m investigating these crimes, just like you. Besides, do you think I’m dumb enough to leave evidence behind? I’ve been doing this for a very, very long time, Dr. Owens. I wouldn’t be alive today if I was as sloppy as these fools.”

“And yet, you’ve been a part of every crime scene I’ve been to today, and we have DNA to prove it.”

This clearly surprised her. “Bullshit.”

“You left a hair behind this morning at your sister’s place. And the neighbor saw your vehicle. It’s circumstantial, but it will stand up in court.”

Robin was shaking her head. “I didn’t kill those men. And I didn’t kill Bromley, or my sister, or Cattafi. I’ve been searching for her killer, just like you.” She couldn’t resist adding a gibe. “Though it seems I was a few steps ahead, until this moment.”

Sam narrowed her eyes at the woman. “So you’re just exceptionally clever, and someone’s setting you up? That’s what you’re trying to tell me?”

“Yes.” Robin seemed to be on the edge of losing control. Sam wanted to push her there. It would be the most expedient way to get information from her.

“Any idea who might have it in for you?”

Instead of answering, Robin said, “Think about it. Why would I kill my sister? Why would I kill any of these people? Now, the man who attacked me in Dr. Bromley’s office, him I had to stop. He was trying to kill me, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. But I had nothing to do with Amanda’s world, on purpose. It was the best way for me to keep her safe. I love my sister. I’m heartbroken that she’s gone. And I didn’t kill her.”

She must have seen something on Sam’s face. She backed against the sofa and sat down, arms at her sides. Defenseless. Shocked. “But you know who did. And you’ve been playing me. You know I’m innocent.”

Sam nodded. “You’re hardly innocent. But yes, we know who killed Amanda. We have her killer in custody, and a confession.”

Robin took a deep, long breath, her shoulders relaxing. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. But first, I need some ice.” She gave Xander a rueful glance and touched her eye. “Didn’t your mommy teach you it’s not nice to hit girls?”

“My mommy makes exceptions when the girl in question leads with a Smith & Wesson.”

They assembled in the kitchen. Xander plopped some ice from Kruger’s freezer in a dishcloth, handed it to Robin. He made another ice pack, cautiously held it up to his nose. When it was numbed a bit, he signaled to Sam, who ran her fingers along the edge, squeezed the sides. He grimaced, pulled back from her touch, eyes watering.

“It’s not broken. Just banged up. You’ll be pretty again when the swelling goes down.”

Robin, whose face was hidden behind her own ice pack, laughed a little. Sam turned on her.

“You’ve been our number-one suspect in several murders today. You’re damn lucky he didn’t shoot you. I hardly think this is the time to laugh. Explain what you’re doing here. Now.”

“You’re feisty. I like that. I’m just looking for a guy I know,” Robin said lightly.

Sam wasn’t in the mood. “Quit fucking around and tell me how you know Jason Kruger.”

A shadow passed across Robin’s eyes. “That’s not who I’m looking for.”

“Who, then?”

“A ghost.”

Sam got in the smaller woman’s face. “Robin. Listen to me. We have a very bad situation brewing right now. So if you know anything about it, now is the time to talk.”

She did. And the more she told them, the more frightened Sam became.