Last Chance to Die, Noah Boyd [most read book in the world TXT] 📗

Vail went over to the computer and moved the mouse, lighting up the monitor screen. The Bureau satellite was online. “Bryn Mawr Park. About a five-minute drive from . . .” Vail moved the cursor as it traced the map along Route 123 and then Chain Bridge Road.

Kalix took a step closer to the screen. “ . . . CIA headquarters at Langley.”

“And that means what?” Bursaw asked.

Vail looked at Kalix and then at Bursaw. “I have no idea.”

Kalix said, “It means we’re one step closer to . . . What time of the day were these three contacts?”

Vail picked up a file and started making notes. When he finished, he handed Kalix a slip of paper. “At 10:03 A.M., 1:42 P.M., and 10:48 A.M.”

Kalix turned around and smiled at them.

“What?” Vail asked.

“All three are during working hours. Have you ever been to Langley?”

“No.”

“You can’t get in or out without swiping your ID.”

“So the CIA will have a record of people leaving headquarters on those dates, around those times. That’s great, but I doubt they’ll be willing to share that with us.”

“I have a good friend over there. We went to law school together. And he’s in Personnel.”

Vail pushed the phone toward Kalix. He picked it up and dialed.

After Kalix hung up, he said, “Maybe by this afternoon. He has to sneak around a little to do it. He’s going to call me at the office. As you probably heard, I had to promise him first notification if something comes up on one of theirs.” Kalix got up to leave.

Vail asked, “Where are you going?”

“Back to the office. I have a meeting I can’t miss. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

After he left, Vail went back to the wall and started scanning it. Finally he turned to Bursaw and said, “Let’s get out of here for a while. What do you say we go cover some of those leads on Sundra?”

“You sure you want to bother with that now?”

“I need something to do. Let’s go make some people nervous.”

For the next three hours, the two men fell into an old rhythm developed during three years of friendship and working together in Detroit. They complemented each other well, picking up on the familiar nuances of criminal behavior, which weren’t much different whether they were in D.C. or Michigan.

The first stop was a Middle Eastern travel agency. Sundra’s file did not document why she was investigating them, but once Vail and Bursaw started interviewing the owner, they discovered that he had a large marijuana-growing operation in the building’s basement. They decided that someone had flagged the premises based on the inexplicable electrical consumption caused by the massive lighting system used.

The next one turned out to be an identification mill operated out of a residence. The individual in charge of the operation provided forged driver’s licenses and car titles for a hundred dollars apiece. He had been arrested years before and received probation. When he told the two agents that his lawyer said he would probably be continued on probation if caught, Vail and Bursaw felt satisfied that he had nothing to gain from Sundra Boston’s disappearance.

“Two down, three to go,” Vail said as they got back into the car. “Lucas Bursaw, tell us who our next contestant is?” Before Bursaw could answer, Vail’s cell phone rang. It was Kalix. Vail listened for a few seconds. “Okay, we’ll meet you there.”

Bursaw said, “What’s up?”

“We’re going to have to put this on hold. John has that list of CIA employees.”

22

When they got to the off-site, John Kalix was parked outside waiting for them. They went upstairs, and Kalix handed Vail the list of names, along with their photos.

“Names and photos—you must have something on this guy.”

“Actually, I do. Like I said, he and I went all the way back to law school. We were pretty close. We were out one night having a few cocktails, and he spotted a source of his in the bar. I guess he thought I’d be impressed, so he introduced me to the guy. The source was horrified that someone would see us, and he tried to leave. My friend caught him outside and started slapping him around. The asset made a stink, and I wound up lying about it to a couple of their internal grunts. He was absolved, and now he’s paying the bill.”

Vail made a quick count. “Nine. That’s not bad. Have you run the names through indices?”

“Personally searched them myself. Nothing.”

“We have one advantage right now—surprise. If we confronted them, we’d lose that. Besides, from the moment these people decide to start spying, they’re constantly rehearsing their answers to any questions about their loyalty. Anybody have any ideas?”

Kalix and Bursaw both shook their heads.

“Sorry, boys, there appears only one thing we can do,” Vail said. “We’ve got to show the photos to Kate.”

“How are you going to do that?” Kalix asked. “They won’t let anyone from the Bureau near her.”

“John, this is where we separate the temporary help from the truly self-destructive.”

Kalix laughed. “Talk about making something sound irresistible.”

“Come on, how many FBI agents can say they helped a federal prisoner escape?”

“If you mean without becoming a federal prisoner themselves, I’m going to guess zero.”

Alfred Bevson, the United States Attorney for the District of Columbia, sat at his desk rereading a newspaper article regarding a shooting in Annandale the day before. The facts seemed deliberately vague, and that, coupled with the participants’ being two unnamed FBI agents and two suspected East European illegal immigrants, made him wonder if it had something to do with the Kate Bannon case. His secretary buzzed him. “Yes.”

“There’s an attorney by the name of Karl Brickman on the line. He insists on talking to you.”

“Just tell him I’m in a meeting and I’ll call him back.”

“He said he was representing Kate Bannon.”

“What?” Bevson swore under his breath. The FBI must have leaked her detention. “Okay, Claire, put him through.”

Bevson knew that the Bureau was upset with him for cutting