King and Maxwell by David Baldacci
“I used his code. Just asked if he was okay. That we wanted to be in touch.”
“Wingo might not be letting him respond. He might not trust us.”
“If I were him, I wouldn’t trust anyone,” replied Sean.
“So what do we do about Vista?”
“We wait.”
Four hours later, when Michelle had ordered but not touched her fourth cup of coffee, their patience was rewarded.
Sean’s voice crackled in her ear. “Alan Grant and our bogie on your three.”
Michelle imperceptibly turned to look in that direction. She had on a ball cap pulled low with her long hair bundled up inside it. Wide sunglasses covered the top half of her face.
“Eyeballs on,” she replied.
Grant and his colleague looked like young, successful businessmen having a quick meeting on the street. Michelle couldn’t hear what they were saying, and she didn’t want to risk getting up and crossing the street to get closer. If they spotted her, it might blow their only chance to advance the investigation.
“Plan?” she whispered.
“If they split up, I’ll take Grant, you take the bogie. If they both go inside the office building, follow them in, see and hear what you can. Same if the bogie goes in alone.”
“What if they ID me?”
“You’re pretty well disguised, and there are a lot of people around. I think we just have to risk it.”
“And you?”
“If one or both leave in a car, I’ll follow Grant while you’re on the bogie. You got your wheels nearby?”
“Around the corner. But I miss my Land Cruiser.”
“Look, just throw some trash around the car’s interior and you’ll feel right at home.”
“God, you are so funny you could go into stand-up,” she snapped.
“Everyone needs to have a backup career.”
“You really think this is going to lead somewhere?”
“If Wingo is interested in these folks, then we are too.”
“They’re heading into the building.”
“Good luck.”
“Roger that.”
Michelle rose and took up the tail. She wedged herself in with a group of people who were entering the building after Grant and his colleague.
She just managed to jump onto the elevator with Grant, the other man, and ten more people. She pushed to the back, keeping Grant and his companion in front of her. She caught snatches of their conversation but doubted they would be discussing anything sensitive in public.
They got off, as she knew they would, on the sixth floor. Four other people exited the elevator car there, so she decided to chance it. She followed them down the hall and passed by them as they entered the offices of Vista Trading Group. It was a double-door entry and looked impressive. Grant must be pretty successful because this was a Class A building and rents were not cheap in this area of D.C.
She slipped around the corner and then doubled back.
And got the shock of her life.
She darted back around the corner before the man could see her.
“I just saw a guy going into Vista,” she said to Sean through her comm pack.
“Okay, who was it?”
“You are not going to believe this.”
“With this case I’m starting to believe anything is possible. Who did you see?”
“The guy we met with earlier at the Pentagon.”
“Colonel Leon South?”
“No, the other one. Dan Marshall, assistant secretary for acquisition, logistics, and technology. The same guy who lost a billion euros of taxpayer money.”
“Holy shit.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“What’s the connection with Vista?”
“Coincidence?” said Michelle.
“If it is, it’s the size of Texas. We need to dig a lot deeper.”
“Edgar?”
“He already dug into Grant’s background. I’m surprised he didn’t find the Dan Marshall connection.”
“Even geniuses miss things.”
“Or maybe he’s losing a few brain cells too.”
“Don’t worry, he has tons to spare.”
CHAPTER
57
MICHELLE CONTACTED EDGAR AND CONVEYED the particulars on what they needed. He promised to get right on it and call her back with his results. In the meantime Sean and Michelle headed over in Sean’s car to Reston, Virginia, to meet with the blogger, George Carlton.
Sean phoned ahead and Carlton met them outside his town house—which was also his office, he told them, as he escorted them inside.
“I’m surprised there aren’t news trucks parked out here,” said Sean. “After your big scoop.”
Carlton was short and portly and around fifty. His beard was trimmed close to his chin and his mustache drooped partially over his upper lip. He looked at them strangely and then apologized.
“My right contact has a scratch. Trying to get in to see the eye doctor.”
He showed them into his office, a small room off the foyer. It was piled high with books, newspaper articles, magazines, and DVD cases. A large computer sat on the top of his desk while a server hummed below in the kneehole.
They all sat. Carlton rubbed his mustache and looked at them thoughtfully. “Media trucks here would validate the world of the blogger, so that will never happen.”
“The two worlds don’t get along?” said Michelle as she perched in a chair, sharing space with a stack of magazines.
“The two worlds don’t recognize each other. I’m about the truth. They’re about entertainment, ratings, and the almighty dollar.”
“I’m all for the truth,” said Sean.
“In your call you said you might have some information for me?” said Carlton.
“Quid pro quo,” said Sean.
Carlton frowned. “I’m in the business of gathering and reporting information en masse, not in dispensing it individually. And I’m certainly not going to pay for it.”
“Well, we’re in the business of digging down to the truth,” said Michelle. “And we need your help to do it.”
“Who are you?”
Sean showed Carlton his ID card.
“Private investigators?” sniffed Carlton. “And who is your client?”
“Confidential,” said Sean. “But depending on what you tell us, we might have some things to tell you.”
“Like what?”
“Like some more background on the story you’re already reporting on with the missing billion euros.”
Carlton smiled. “You obviously have not read my most recent blog. It went up just thirty minutes ago. I expect it to go viral anytime. The eyeball rate is already through the roof.”
“No, we haven’t seen it,” said Sean. “But I’m not a regular blog reader.”
“And he thinks viral is an infection,” added Michelle.
Carlton chuckled. “Well, I am surprised that the media trucks have not swooped in after this one. Or at least the Feds.”
Carlton hit some keys on his keyboard and swung the screen around so they could see it. Sean and Michelle swiftly read through the contents of the most recent blog. Carlton was watching them closely. “You don’t seem too surprised.”
Sean glanced at him. “That the billion euros was going to fund weapons for people seeking to topple the Iranian government and that an intermediate step to funnel the money involved poppies from Afghanistan that you use to make heroin? Yeah, it’s a big surprise to us.” He added, quite truthfully, “Especially the poppies and heroin part.”
Carlton looked at him slyly. “I thought you were into the truth. Because what you just said was bullshit.”
“Who was your source?” asked Michelle.
Carlton did an eye roll. “Please, don’t even go there.”
Sean swiftly counted on his hands and then looked at Michelle. “Is it six people killed and five severely wounded so far in this whole thing or do I have the numbers
Michelle did a quick mental count. “I think it’s five killed, six critically wounded. And don’t forget the woman who’s missing and probably dead. That’s all in this country. But that doesn’t take into account all the men killed in Afghanistan. That was a real slaughter.”
“That’s right. I had it backward. Well, in my defense, the body count keeps changing day-to-day. I can’t keep up.”
A startled Carlton looked between them. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“And you know the bombing at the motel in Alexandria?” asked Sean.
“That’s connected to this?” said Carlton in a shaky voice.
Sean said, “Well, since we were there and were almost killed, yeah, it is. So what you have to take into consideration, George, is that whoever is behind this is feeding you information for some purpose that is not exactly clear yet. But what is clear is that they have a habit of cleaning up leave-behinds.” Sean stared pointedly at him. “Do you get what I’m saying?”
“That I’m a leave-behind? But I’m just a blogger. I don’t know anything that could hurt anyone.”
“Well, if the source is emailing you, that leaves a trail. And that trail starts with you and ends with the source.”
“But I’m sure my source is taking pains to cover that trail.”
“Doesn’t matter. Can’t take the chance. I would expect that once your usefulness is over he’ll come kill you, take your computer and your phone and your e-tablet and the server I see under your desk, and burn down your house and your bloody remains just to be extra sure.” He looked at Michelle. “What’s your take? You’d do that, right, if you were the source? No trace?”
She replied, “Absolutely. But I’d dismember him first, then burn him. Then use acid. Makes identifying the murder victim much harder.”
Carlton looked ready to throw up but said weakly, “You’re just trying to scare me.”
Sean slowly shook his head. “I don’t have to try. You should be scared. I am. And I was with the Secret Service. Not a lot can scare me, but this sure as hell does.”
Michelle said, “You need to think about this very seriously, George. Very seriously. All those connected to this are dropping like flies. We’ve almost been killed three times and we can take care of ourselves.” She looked at his small, chubby frame. “I don’t think you’re in the same situation.”
“But what can I do?” wailed Carlton.
Sean said, “Download your emails to a flash drive and give it to me right now. Then pack a bag and buy a plane ticket that will take you far, far away from here for about a month. Check the papers or, better yet, the blogs for what’s going on back here. If we’re all still alive at the end of thirty days, then come back. It should be safe.”
“You’re shitting me!”
Sean looked at Michelle and then back at Carlton.
“Or you can stay here and die,” she said to the blogger.
Carlton said nothing.
Finally, Sean rose. “Let’s go, Michelle. Waste of time here.”
Michelle stood. “Lead a horse to water. Sorry, George. Don’t know what to tell you. Pay up the life insurance. Notify next of kin of the cash coming their way. And make sure your homeowner’s insurance is paid up. For when they come and burn this place down with you in it.”
They started to leave.
“Where would I go?” yelled Carlton.
Sean turned back. “Where would you like to go?”
Carlton thought for a few moments. “Always wanted to see the Sydney Opera House.”
“Good choice,” said Sean.
“Great choice,” added Michelle.
“Flash drive?” said Sean, walking back over to the desk.
Carlton fumbled for one in his desk drawer and slipped it into the slot on his computer.
“Can you guys drive me to the airport? I can book a ticket online and it’ll take me no time to pack and snag my passport.”
“Why not?” said Sean.
“Are you armed?” asked Carlton.
Sean pointed to Michelle. “I have her, so the answer is yes, I’m armed.”
He watched as Carlton downloaded the emails onto the flash drive and then popped it out and handed it to Sean.
They drove Carlton to the airport and dropped him off there.
“Good luck,” said Sean.
“I think you’ll need it more than me, pal,” said Carlton before he hurriedly disappeared into the crowds at Dulles.
As they drove off Michelle said, “Think Edgar can trace the email back to the source?”
“If anyone can, he can. The IP address and all the other junk that I don’t understand will be on the email trail. Whoever sent it will have done all they can to shut off the route, but Edgar may find something.”
“Find someone, you mean.”
Sean glanced at her. “That trip to New Zealand is looking better and better.”
“Yes it is,” said Michelle as they drove on.
Sean’s phone buzzed. He answered it, listened, said thank you, and then turned the car in the other direction.
“What’s up?” asked Michelle as he punched the gas.
“Dana’s awake and wants to see me.”
“I’m surprised the hospital would notify you. You’re not family.”
“That wasn’t the hospital. It was her husband, General Curtis Brown. And he also wants to talk to us.”
CHAPTER
58
CURTIS BROWN, DANA’S TWO-STAR HUSBAND, stood in the corner of the room with Michelle while Sean sat next to the bed and spoke to Dana. She was groggy, in pain but alive. She even managed to smile a few times, though she winced each time she did.
“Should have listened to you, Sean,” she said slowly. “Should have just left the mall.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Old habits die hard, I guess. Didn’t want you to get hurt. But you look okay. And Michelle?”
“Standing right over there with the general, fit as a fiddle.”
“I’m glad. I’m so glad,” she said breathlessly.
“You should rest.”
She gripped his hand more tightly. “Those men?”