Текст книги "The Bricklayer "

Автор книги: Noah Boyd

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“So Vail let himself be fired so a cop killer wouldn’t walk.”

“I think it’s even more than that. I don’t know. He seems to have this resentment for the way the rest of us lack commitment or something. He didn’t even show up for his last OPR interview, therefore insubordination.”

“Too bad we lost him.”

Kate sat silently considering something before she said, “Sir, Vail had this reputation for finding people. He handled all the federal fugitive warrants for Detroit homicide. They said whether someone was gone fifteen minutes or fifteen years, he’d find them. Like I told you, he wasn’t on my squad, but everyone knew about Steve Vail. Funny thing was he seemed oblivious to any kind of notoriety, that anyone would be interested in anything he did. I always thought it was an act—until just now watching him sneak out of that bank.”

“Are you suggesting we bring him into this?”

Kaulcrick said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We’ve got more than enough resources at our disposal. You can’t bring a civilian into this. With each turn of this thing, it looks like we can’t protect ourselves from ourselves.”

“Just to find Bertok,” she said. “Someone who doesn’t have to tiptoe around like the rest of us. So far we’ve got nothing. It’s pretty obvious that Vail can keep his mouth shut. What have we got to lose?”

The director pushed the Play button and watched again as Vail disarmed the two bank robbers. “Think you can get him, Kate?”

“Me? He despises men in authority. What do you think his reaction will be to a woman?”

“I think you’d better find out.”

FIVE

STEVE VAIL SPLASHED SOME WATER ONTO THE MORTAR AND USED knife edge to sink the moisture deep into the mixture. The late-morning sun felt good on the back of his neck. It had rained the night before, leaving one of those damp Chicago mornings that felt cooler than the mid-seventy-degree temperature. Moving back into the shadow of the large circular chimney he had been hired to rebuild, he picked up a brick and flipped it over so its wire-cut face was in position and buttered one end with the softened mortar. He pushed it into place, tapping the top with the butt of the trowel handle, and then used a backhand sweep to scrape off the excess mortar, flicking it into the joint just formed. His eye checked the brick’s alignment as he reached for the next one.

The ladder he had used to get to the flat roof started tapping rhythmically against the top of the wall. Someone was coming up. Flicking the excess mortar off the trowel, he threw it, sticking it into the pine mortarboard. He peered over the edge of the roof and was surprised to see a woman coming up the ladder. She moved quickly, her hands and feet finding the rungs instinctively. She was wearing a pantsuit and small heels, which should have made the climb more difficult, but they didn’t seem to slow her at all. Under her jacket, on the outside of her hip, he could see the bulge of a gun. Parked behind his truck now was a four-door sedan, one of those full-size government cars that were conspicuously nondescript.

Kate Bannon came over the top of the ladder and was surprised to find Vail leaning against the chimney, apparently waiting for her, his stare mildly curious. She brushed her hands against each other, wiping away imaginary debris from the ladder as she composed herself. “Hi,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m—”

“Kate Bannon.” He took her hand.

“How’d you know?”

“Detroit.”

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” she said. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t think you knew I existed.”

“I knew.” His mouth tightened into a grin that she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Even though I was some ‘management bimbo’ getting my ticket punched?”

He smiled more completely. “Even though.”

“I would assume that’s what most of the male street agents thought,” she said. “And looking back, I’m not sure they were wrong.”

“Brutal honesty, and so early in this little—what is it we’re having, some sort of sales pitch?”

“At least give me the courtesy of pretending you’re being fooled,” she said. “And it’s not about your performance at the bank last month if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She was hoping to see some surprise from Vail that she knew he was the one who had disrupted the robbery, but his face had shifted into those unreadable planes she remembered from Detroit. “I’m not. I know they wouldn’t send someone all the way from Washington just for that.”

“How’d you know I’m at headquarters?”

“Five years ago, you were some ‘management bimbo’ doing your field supervisory time. I haven’t been keeping track of the rate of promotion for women, but I would guess that’s long enough for you to be at least a unit chief.”

“Actually, I was just promoted to deputy assistant director.”

“Really,” he said. “You must be quite the agent because someone as brutally honest as you surely wouldn’t accept a promotion simply because you’re a woman.”

She stared back at him, slightly amused. “Listen, Steve, if you’re trying to convince me that you can be an SOB, I remember. You’ll also find I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

Vail laughed. “A deputy assistant director. And on a rooftop in Chicago. There must be a really big problem back at the puzzle palace?”

“There is something we’d like your help with.”

“Unless you’ve got some bricks that need to be laid, you’re in the wrong time zone, darlin’.”

She looked at the chimney and the tools scattered around it. “You have a master’s degree in Russian history from the University of Chicago. How did you wind up being a bricklayer?”

“Is there something wrong with being a bricklayer?” he asked, his tone half amused with the feigned indignation.

“It just seems like there would be easier ways to make a buck.”

“Fair enough. It goes something like this. First you have to get fired, and then if you wait long enough, you start getting hungry. The rest of it just kind of falls into place.”

“I would have thought that you’d have looked for something a little more…indoors.”

“My father taught me when I was a kid. It’s how I got through college. And if you’re going to snoop around my personnel file, please get it right. Soviet history. It’s an important distinction in case whatever brings you here depends on my ability to see into the future,” Vail said. “Thus…” He waved his hand to encompass the surroundings. “Actually, I kind of like the work. It’s real. There’s something permanent about it, at least in human years. Handfuls of clay being transformed into complicated structures. And then, of course, it was the only house that the wolf couldn’t blow down. Besides, there are too many bosses indoors.”

“So you’re never going to take a job that has a boss?”

“There’s always a boss. The trick is to never take a job you can’t walk away from. Especially when the bosses get to be insufferable, which I think is now a federal law.”

“Is that what you did with the FBI, walk away when you didn’t like the boss?”

“Seems like you’ve thought about it a lot more than I have.”

“I’ve come with an offer that you can walk away from whenever you want.”

He pulled the trowel out of the mortarboard and picked up a brick. “Then consider me walked away.”

“I wouldn’t be here unless we really needed your help.”

“One of the things my departure from the Bureau taught me was that the FBI will never really need any one person.”

“I’m impressed. You’ve maintained a grudge for five years. You rarely see that kind of endurance anymore.”

“Thanks, but the credit really should go to my father. World-class scorn was the sum total of my inheritance. Enough of it can get you through anything.” Vail started turning over the mortar on the board again.

“Do you want it in writing? The Federal Bureau of Investigation needs the particular skills of Steven Noah Vail.”

“You’ll find someone else.”

Kate stepped in front of him. “I know something about you that maybe you don’t even know.”

“Oh good, I was wondering when we’d get around to managerial insight. Will I need something to write with?”

“You have to do this.” Her tone was not pleading but accusatory.

He held up the brick between them. “I do this so I don’t have to do anything.”

Her eyes carefully searched his face. “My God, you don’t know, do you? You really don’t know why you do these things. Why you have no choice but to say yes to me.”

“In that case, no.”

“Stop being so Vail for a minute.”

“Why is ‘no’ such a difficult concept for women? You demand we understand it the first time, every time.”

“Do you know why you stopped that bank robbery?” Ignoring her, Vail spread a bed of mortar and pushed the brick into it. “Because no one else could,” she went on. “Everyone else in the world is running around searching for their own self-importance, and you’re cruising around ignoring yours.” She smiled. “And let’s admit it, if you’re really that into revenge, what could be better than having the Bureau come crawling to you to fix some problem that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t?”

Vail stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. He turned and went back to work on the chimney. For the next half hour neither of them spoke. She sat down on the edge of the roof and watched him. There was an economy of movement to his work that she supposed was necessary for any task so repetitive, but still there was something about the way he did it that she found intriguing. The way his large, veined hands flipped over the bricks and found the right alignment instinctually. The way when he applied mortar, it was always the exact amount needed, never dropping any, never needing to add any. The flow never interrupted. How he was transforming perfectly rectangular bricks into a perfectly round chimney.

The more she watched him, the more she realized he was working faster than he normally would. If the work was as rewarding as he had said, there should have been an occasional appraising touch or at least a glance when he finished a course, but instead he immediately reached for the next brick. She couldn’t tell if he was just angry with her or if he wanted to get done so that he could be rid of her for good.

After the last brick was tapped into place and the joint scraped flush, Vail flicked the excess mortar off the trowel and then scraped both its sides on the edge of the board. She could finally see some reaction on his face. Even though the trowel was clean, he kept stropping it against the board absentmindedly. “What exactly is it that needs fixing?”

“I’m sorry, I am not allowed to tell you.”

“Who is?”

“The director.”

“The director?”

“That’s the one.”

“What is it that you think I can do that the other eleven thousand agents can’t?”

“Most important? Be discreet. Last month’s little bank robbery gave us a pretty good indication that you’re not interested in getting your name in the papers.”

“And less important?”

“You had a certain reputation in Detroit.”

“For?”

“Hunting men.”

“So you want me to find someone without anyone knowing that the FBI’s looking for him.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but those are the main concerns.”

“Other than getting to polish my neglected self-esteem, what’s in this for me?”

“It’s completely negotiable.”

“Are you saying that as a deputy assistant director or as a woman?” As her face reddened slightly, the scar on her cheekbone started to glow white. He smiled. “That’s enough of an answer for now. When?”

“I came in a Bureau plane. It’s waiting at Midway.”

Vail picked up a ten-gallon bucket and started shoveling the unused mortar into it. “Give me a half hour to clean up.”

VAIL’S PICKUP PULLED up in front of his apartment with Kate’s Bureau car close behind. He walked back to her as she opened the door. “I’ll make it as quick as I can.”

She got out. “Can I use your phone?”

“You don’t have a cell?”

“I’d rather use a hard line.”

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

Kate wondered how bad it was up there. She found herself intrigued at the prospect of peeking into Vail’s personal life. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Vail opened the door and let Kate walk in ahead of him. The small apartment was not what she expected. It seemed newer, better constructed than the rest of the building. The walls were unpainted Sheetrock. The taped seams were visible but had been smoothed with the expert touch of a trowel. In stark contrast, the dark hardwood floors looked like they had been recently refinished and were buffed to a high sheen. The furniture was sparse, and the few tables and shelves scattered around held a couple dozen different sizes and types of sculpture, mostly the kind that were found at garage or estate sales or dusty way-out-of-the-way antique shops. Strangely, all the human figures were of the headless variety and had apparently been purchased for the detail of the torsos. She wondered if there was another reason. “I’m still working on the walls, but I guess that’s obvious.”

On a worktable at the front window, to take advantage of the natural light, was an almost complete sculpture of a male torso formed by hundreds of thumb-size smudges of clay. “You live here alone?”

“If you’re asking if it’s mine, the answer is yes. And yes to living alone.”

She walked over to the two-foot-high figure and examined it more closely. The upper portion appeared completed and was heavily muscled. She glanced around at the other works in the apartment to see if any matched the style. “None of the others are mine if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Do you sell them or give them away?”

“Actually, I throw them out when I’m done, or break them down so the material can be reused.”

“Have you ever tried to sell them?”

“They’re not good enough yet.”

“Really, this seems like it has potential.”

He pulled off his T-shirt. “That’s probably why you’re not working at the Guggenheim, and I’m a bricklayer. Beer?”

“Sure.”

“Glass?”

“Please.”

Her voice had an odd quality about it that Vail was drawn to. It was lilting, but at the same time gracefully incomplete, making him want to hear it again. “Not trying to be one of the guys drinking out of the bottle—refreshing.” He handed her a glass and twisted the cap off. After opening his, he took a long swallow from the bottle.

She glanced at each of the sculptures again. “What’s with the no-heads?”

He took another swallow of beer. For the first time that day, she sensed a reluctance to answer a question, an evasion of the blunt answers that seemed to come naturally to him. “I find faces distracting. I’m always trying to figure out what the models were thinking about at the time, even what language they might be thinking in. Probably studying Russian and reading Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky all those years has scarred me for life. Besides, I’ve tried faces. They all wind up looking like they’re from Middle Earth.”

The explanation seemed superficially dismissive, one that he never quite believed himself. Remembering Detroit now, she wondered if there was a natural distance he preferred. Back then everyone assumed it was some sort of extension of his inexplicable modesty. Armed with this new insight, she looked around and could find no television or magazines or personal photos. Apparently not even pictures of faces were allowed. The real question, she supposed, was what had made him like that. “Even though you didn’t say yes right away, I’m surprised getting you to come back to Washington wasn’t more difficult.”

“As you can see, my sculpting business isn’t going that well. And the job I just finished was the only one I had scheduled.”

Again, she detected a slightly hollow ring to his reasons. “You know, if you’re interested in getting your job back permanently, that could be arranged.”

“I’m not looking for permanent right now, just different.”

She smiled and nodded, deciding to lighten the conversation. “I think I can pretty much guarantee that this is going to be different.”

“Give me fifteen minutes. The phone’s over there.”

Kate sipped at her beer absentmindedly as she listened to the shower. She stood over the unfinished sculpture, admiring its virility. The shoulder and upper arm muscles seemed too large to be realistic, but it gave off a kind of primitive indestructibility. Then, closing her hand, she let her fingertips massage her palm, recalling the callused strength of Vail’s handshake. She let the tip of her finger run lightly down the curve of the figure’s spine like a drop of warm water.

SIX

AS THEY WERE BOARDING THE PLANE, KATE THOUGHT SHE MIGHT have a chance to find out more about Vail. That he had recognized her on sight had made her curious, even flattered. As far as she recalled, their eyes had never met in the year and a half they were in Detroit together. Now seemed like a good opportunity to find out why he remembered her.

Vail took the window seat without asking her preference, and by the time she got settled, he was sound asleep. He didn’t wake up until the plane’s tires chirped onto the tarmac at Dulles International. “Why are you looking at me like that, was I snoring?”

She smiled. “No, in fact for the first time today, you were perfect company.”

“Is that how you like your men, unconscious?”

“My men? You make it sound like I collect scalps.”

“Human beings are collectors by nature. Ownership, control. Breaching someone else’s defenses. In one form or another, we all do it. It’s part of the chase.”

“Chase? What are we chasing?”

“That’s what men—excuse me—men and women since Pythagoras have been trying to figure out.”

“Pythagoras?”

“Yes, there were Greek philosophers before Socrates.”

“The guy with the triangle?”

“The square of the hypotenuse. He believed that the soul was immortal. Do you think your soul is immortal?” Vail asked.

“Deputy assistant directors are not allowed to have souls.”

“Or to collect scalps?”

“Actually that’s a requirement.”

He leaned close to her with mock intimacy. “Tell me something, Deputy Assistant Director Bannon, is that all I am to you—advancement?”

“Like you said, bricklayer, we all need something to chase.”

THE DIRECTOR HAD given his secretary instructions to show Kate and Vail into his office as soon as they arrived. When they entered, Lasker was seated at his desk signing a stack of paperwork. Directly behind him stood Don Kaulcrick, taking each of the documents after it was signed and barely looking at them.

Lasker rose and offered Vail his hand. “Steve, thanks for coming, and on such short notice. This is one of our assistant directors, Don Kaulcrick.” Vail shook Lasker’s hand. The director waved Vail into a chair. “Your way of ending a hostage standoff is impressive.”

“You’d think someone who did this job for a while would know better than to go inside a bank on Friday afternoon.”

Lasker laughed. “Let me ask you something that’s been driving all of us around here nuts. After it was over, why did you just walk away?”

“I never really thought about it. But if it drove everyone nuts, especially around here, that’s reward enough.”

Lasker picked up a file that had Vail’s name printed on the cover. “Is that a warning? In case you decide to help us.”

“I would think after reading my personnel file that question would be unnecessary.”

Lasker smiled. “I’m starting to understand why you were fired.”

Vail laughed. “I can’t see how it could have turned out any other way. It was a train wreck just waiting for the Bureau and me to be thrown in each other’s way. No one especially wanted it, but at the same time no one cared enough to prevent it, most of all me. A bureaucracy has to have the ability to self-repair if it’s going to be able to function. I’ve never done well knowing anyone has that kind of authority over me.”

“So when you turned down a pass from OPR if you’d give up the ASAC, you weren’t just being loyal?”

Vail turned to Kate. “I suppose Kent Wilson is an SAC somewhere by now.”

“San Diego.”

“Ah. At least they sent him to someplace with bad weather.” He turned back to the director. “Let’s just say I had other priorities.”

“Like not letting a cop killer go free?”

Vail looked surprised, and Kate felt a small twinge of pleasure at uncovering something about Vail that he apparently hadn’t wanted revealed. “I assumed that this command performance would be for some sort of more immediate problem.”

“Sorry. Around here, constantly checking motives is necessary for survival. In that vein—while I know it’s not necessary to say this to you—I have to ask that what you’re about to hear not leave the room.” Vail nodded. “You’ve heard about the ‘Enemies of the FBI’ murders.”

“As much as I try to avoid the news, it’d be hard not to.”

“Then I’m sure you know that a group calling itself the Rubaco Pentad is claiming credit for the killings. While they appear to be some sort of domestic terrorism group on a crusade, they have actually made large monetary demands to stop the murders.”

“Who were they demanding it from?”

“The FBI.”

“Not lacking confidence, are they? And you’re not letting the public know about it because…”

“One of their demands is that if we do, they’ll kill another prominent person. It’s an ingenious tactic. Since we can’t reveal their motives, it looks like we’re the ones with the hidden agenda, as if it’s just a matter of time before some vast governmental conspiracy is exposed. We’re really handcuffed.”

“I could see how you would be,” Vail said. “Since I’m here, I assume things didn’t go well at the drop.”

“They turned it into a deadly obstacle course. It seemed like they didn’t really want us to deliver the money. The agent making the delivery was shot to death.”

“I assume the entire million wasn’t in the money package?”

“Just a thousand dollars, and they left that at the scene.”

“A warning that they’d be back,” Vail said.

“Yes, it certainly was.”

“Any decent leads come out of it?”

The director said, “Don, you’ve been handling that.”

Kaulcrick said, “There was some scuba equipment used we’re trying to trace, but it’s almost impossible. And the prison was on a secure naval base, so we’re in the process of finding out who’s had access to it the last couple of months. It’s literally thousands of people, so it could take forever.”

“Sounds like somebody knows how to get you to burn manpower.”

“Are you suggesting it’s a waste of time?” Kaulcrick asked.

“Not at all. You never know what lead is going to be productive. But it sounds like they picked the base because the bigger and more complicated the location, the more time it takes to investigate. It seems that their major weapon is distraction. Leads like that need a lot of manpower but tend to never go anywhere.”

“There’s no question they know how to manipulate the investigation,” Lasker said.

“So what happened at the second drop?” Vail said.

“Who said anything about a second drop?” Kaulcrick asked abruptly, glancing at Kate.

“The second and third murders did,” Vail said. “Don, I’m here because I’m on your side.”

“I have to apologize for everyone, Steve,” Lasker said. “I’ve been so insistent that this not leak out, everyone has become paranoid about it. You’ve given your word and that’s certainly good enough. What I’m about to tell you is even more sensitive.” He then described the second demand letter along with its instruction for Bertok’s role in the delivery of money. He detailed the route and the Bureau’s inability to follow at an effective distance, and finally the disappearance of the agent and the two million dollars.

“So you want me to find Bertok.”

“Yes. And should you recover the money, we wouldn’t object.”

“It couldn’t have been an easy decision letting the full two million drive away.”

“When you got the press holding you hostage twenty-four hours a day with the possibility of not stopping the next murder, it was a surprisingly easy call.”

Vail became lost in thought. Kate waited a few seconds and then said, “I’m sure you’ve got a million questions.”

“Nothing I need to waste everyone’s time with right now. You haven’t got the next demand letter yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” Lasker said.

“Chances are the price will be going up. Do you think the delivery will be as difficult?”

“We hope not,” the director said. “But I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Kaulcrick said, “We were hoping to identify them first.”

“Any promising leads?”

Neither Kate nor Kaulcrick answered. Finally Lasker said, “Not really.”

“That’s too bad, but I guess it won’t affect me finding Bertok, which, by the way, is not going to be easy.”

Everyone was silent for a few seconds before the director said, “Actually the two problems may overlap. All three victims, and the agent at the drop, were killed with the same gun, a Glock model 22. That’s the same model Bertok carried.”

“There are thousands of those guns out there,” Vail said. “Why would you think he could be involved?”

“Well, he was designated by name to make the drop, and whoever is doing this has a good knowledge of extortions, which Bertok worked. Plus he did disappear along with the money. I certainly hope he’s not involved, but to be perfectly honest, we don’t know.”

“If it’s him, why this last murder?”

Kaulcrick said, “In theory, he could be looking down the road for a defense. Why would he kill again if he already had the money? He’s in law enforcement. He’s used to seeing people getting caught when they thought they couldn’t be. It’s cheap insurance. Three murders or four, they can only give him the needle once.”

“I guess it’s possible, although that would take someone who is extremely cold—but I suppose two million dollars can get you to a lot of warm places,” Vail said.

Lasker said, “So, Steve, will you help us?”

“If I agree, I have a couple of conditions.”

“I’m certain we can work them out.” The director opened a drawer, took out a black case with a gold FBI shield pinned to the outside, and slid it across the desk.

Vail opened the credentials and looked at his photo, which had been taken during new agents’ training. “It’s hard to believe I was ever that…on board.” He closed the case and put it in his jacket pocket.

“Whether you find Bertok or not, I can make that permanent, with all the seniority, including the time you’ve been out of government service.”

“I appreciate the offer, but it may be premature. I’m not here to find out if I can now be a good soldier. I know I can’t. What you want me to do is difficult, which means, because of the methods I may find necessary, it’s likely just a matter of time until you’ll regret bringing me into this.”

“Right now that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

Vail smiled. “That’s exactly what my last ASAC said to me.”

The director forced a short laugh. “Okay, but if you don’t want your job back, we’ll have to pay you something. How about a percentage of any money recovered, or a flat amount for finding Bertok?”

“Which brings us back to the conditions. Two items. First, I’m sure at some point I’ll have to get assistance from FBI field offices. Unless SACs have changed, they’re not going to like taking orders from some imported street hump. So I’m going to need someone with enough capital letters in front of his—or her—name to make those guys nervous.”

“Like Deputy Assistant Director Bannon?” Lasker said.

Vail looked at her. “How about it, Kate, think you can make the right men tremble?”

She felt herself starting to blush, but extinguished it with a sarcastic smirk. “Looks like I’m going to be the one taking orders from some imported street hump.”

“And second?” the director asked.

“That I not be paid.”

Confusion narrowed the director’s eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Vail smiled. “If I’m being paid, sooner or later someone will consider me an employee and start giving me orders. We all know how that’ll end. No, my payment is to not have to take orders from anyone. Maybe when we’re done—if I’m successful—I’ll add up my hours and you can pay me the hourly rate for a bricklayer.”

“Then what’s to prevent you from becoming a loose cannon?” Kaulcrick asked.

“Hopefully nothing.”

“I have to tell you, I voted against bringing you into this,” Kaulcrick said. “I’m sorry. There’s enough confusion.”

“If you keep being that honest, Don, you and I will survive. Even through the confusion.”

Lasker said, “If you don’t want anything more than a pittance, why would you take on something like this?”

Vail looked over at Kate. “Apparently, because I can.”