Three Weeks in Washington, page 6
part #3 of Titus Ray Series
She answered her phone the way she always did—by repeating her phone number.
“Hi, Katherine, it’s Titus.”
“They’re looking for you.”
“It’s taken care of.”
“What were you thinking?”
“According to Carlton, I wasn’t.”
“I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“Please don’t tell him that. He has way too much self-esteem as it is.”
“You know, Titus, something tells me this isn’t just a social call.”
“As always, your analysis is right on target. So, here’s the thing. I have a phone number, and I’d like you to run it for me.”
“Off the books? Are you serious? That would be—”
“Strictly speaking, it won’t be off the books.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means someone will eventually ask you to check out the number anyway. What I want you to do is to run a preliminary data dig on it. Like right now. Do it as a personal favor to me for old times’ sake.”
As I waited for her to respond, I could hear Arkady speaking to someone in the hallway.
Katherine said, “Okay, this goes against my better judgment, but give me the number.”
I gave her the number I’d memorized from Felipe’s yellow bag of chips and disconnected the call.
Seconds later, the door to the study suddenly swung open and Carlton walked in.
He was followed by four men dressed in suits.
All four were serious looking guys.
Well, counting Carlton, all five of them were serious looking guys.
Chapter 8
Within a few seconds, Carlton assessed the situation and started issuing orders. First, he directed the men in suits, who were from the Department of Homeland Security, to take Felipe into custody.
The moment he gave that order, two of the suits went out on the patio and grabbed Felipe, placing handcuffs on him once again. As that was taking place, Carlton had me open up the backpack and show him its contents. The other two DHS guys also walked over to take a look inside.
When the younger of the two saw the heroin, he let out a high-pitched whistle, while the older guy uttered a curse word.
Carlton didn’t say anything.
The older guy appeared to be in charge—Carlton called him Arnie—and he demanded I tell him where I’d stashed the AR-15.
When I told him it was out in the Suburban, and I offered to go get it, he gave me a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look and told The Whistler Guy to go retrieve it.
Arnie appeared to be distrustful of me.
I thought I knew why.
A few minutes later, they brought Felipe in from the patio. The look on his face was one of resignation, and he never even glanced in my direction as they marched him out of the study.
Once this drama was over, Arnie wanted Carlton’s assurance any information I’d obtained from Felipe Arcos would be turned over to the Secretary of Homeland Security within twenty-four hours.
Carlton looked sincere as he gave him that assurance.
Before leaving, Arnie turned to Carlton and said, “We’re even now, Douglas. I don’t owe you anything.”
“Understood.”
Arnie nodded in my direction. “The FBI may still want to question him, though.”
“Quite possibly.”
Carlton walked out in the hallway with Arnie, reentering the study a few minutes later. After closing the door behind him, he came over to the fireplace where Mitchell and I were standing.
I’d already prepared myself for his tongue lashing about Felipe.
“Which one of you brought food in here?” he asked.
* * * *
Even though both of us feigned ignorance of any food infraction, Carlton kept sniffing the air and insisting he smelled onions.
I offered to open up the French doors and let in some fresh air, but when Carlton sat down at his desk, he forgot all about discovering the culprit who’d created the stench in his study.
Instead, he wanted to know what intel Mitchell and I had on Felipe Arcos and Reyes Valario.
He pointed his finger at Mitchell. “What did you learn over at the Command Center?”
Mitchell hesitated for a second.
Since Carlton was head of the Agency’s Middle East division, he wasn’t Mitchell’s boss, at least not technically.
Mitchell’s boss was C.J. Salazar, head of the Latin America division. Thus, according to the rules governing Agency protocol, Mitchell didn’t have to answer Carlton’s question, because he was operating under the Latin American division.
An exception to this organizational structure had been made during Operation Clear Signal, when Ahmed Al-Amin, a Middle Eastern operative, had been traveling in Latin America. Both divisions had been involved then, and the DDO had ordered Carlton and Salazar to work together, which meant Mitchell and I had found ourselves answering to two bosses.
I knew Mitchell didn’t have much respect for his own boss, so it didn’t surprise me when he responded to Carlton’s question a few seconds later.
“When I was over at the Command Center, their analysts were still running the threads on Valario. All they had on him was pretty much what the Agency had given them—he was here on a student visa from Caracas, and he was enrolled at the University of Arkansas. One of the feds said he thought Valario was a good marksman just by the way he took out those guards at the gate.”
Carlton nodded. “We’ve determined Valario attended Hezbollah’s training camp on Margarita Island two years ago. That’s probably where he got his training.”
My pulse quickened. “Really? You’ve confirmed this?”
“Why are you surprised? A few hours ago, you sounded certain this shooting was tied to the Clear Signal operation. You insisted it was the reason you grabbed Arcos in the first place. Was that true or were you just blowing smoke?”
“When I saw the response to the shooting, I knew it fit the scenario Roberto had outlined in The Caracas Document. Let’s face it, Douglas, all the news outlets this morning were providing Hezbollah a video lesson on how law enforcement would react to a terrorist event in D.C.”
Carlton nodded. “That’s true. But—”
“As to the rest ... well, I’m not exactly sure why I decided to grab him.”
Carlton rubbed his hand back and forth across his baldhead a couple of times. “Knowing you, I can understand that, but I need something more concrete than just your gut premonition to explain your behavior. Did you at least get some intel out of Arcos? Otherwise, ...”
His voice trailed off.
I knew what Carlton was implying, so I immediately summarized what Felipe had told us about Reyes Valario and why he’d made the trip to Washington with him.
The only part I left out was the phone number on the potato chip bag.
The moment I began reciting this narrative, Carlton pulled out a legal pad from his desk drawer and started making some notes. When I ended my account, he lifted the lid on his laptop and started typing.
A few minutes later, he looked up and asked, “Did Felipe give you a last name on this Alejandro?”
“No, but that shouldn’t matter. He’s a student at the university, so—”
He waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten to tell me something.”
“Not likely.”
Carlton went back to his screen, and, after a few more keystrokes, he closed the lid and said, “I just sent the Ops Center a summary of your interrogation of Felipe. I’ve also scheduled a meeting with the entire operations team for ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Nolan is drawing up some possible scenarios on the reasons behind Valario’s actions today and gathering information on his Hezbollah connections.”
“Nolan’s directing the team? Where’s Olivia?”
“She called in sick this morning.”
Carlton didn’t elaborate, but I wasn’t surprised to hear about Olivia McConnell’s absence.
Olivia had breast cancer, something she’d revealed to me in a safe house on Margarita Island the night before the Clear Signal team had flown into Caracas.
She’d also indicated she didn’t plan on having a mastectomy, even though that’s what her doctors had advised her to do. Her mother and sister had both died from the disease, but she told me she wasn’t going to put herself through the turmoil they’d gone through trying to fight the inevitable outcome.
I’d tried to convince her to change her mind about having the surgery, but Olivia wasn’t known for changing her mind about anything—especially if the person doing the coercing happened to be a man.
Olivia had issues with men, or at least with those who didn’t treat her as an equal.
I said, “Olivia won’t be happy with any scenario put forth by Nolan.”
Carlton nodded. “When she’s back at work tomorrow, I’m sure Nolan will get an earful of her revisions.”
Olivia was not at work the next day.
Nor was she at work the day after that.
* * * *
Carlton pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen. It was difficult to tell if he’d just received a text, or he was ignoring a caller, but after returning the phone to his pocket, he looked up at Mitchell and told him to check in with Salazar as soon as he got back to Langley.
Mitchell appeared to get the hint Carlton was dismissing him and said, “I was just leaving,”
Carlton looked over at me. “There’s no need for you to ride back with Ben. I drove your Range Rover out here to The Meadows.”
Mitchell got him and nodded at me. “I guess that means you can make it back to Langley on your own.”
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What about the ... ah ... stuff you left in the Suburban?”
I had to believe the imaginary stuff he was referring to was his way of letting me know he wanted to have a private conversation with me before he left, so I said, “Yeah, I better get that stuff out of your car. I’ll walk out with you.”
Carlton said, “Don’t be long, Titus. There’s several things we need to discuss.”
“I won’t be but a minute.”
I took longer than that, but it wasn’t Mitchell’s fault.
* * * *
I’d been right about Mitchell. I hadn’t left anything in his car; he had just wanted to talk. As soon as we walked out of the house, he started bombarding me with questions.
“What about the phone number Felipe gave us? I didn’t expect you to show it to the feds, but why didn’t you at least mention it to Douglas?”
I didn’t say anything until we were further away from the house.
Once we’d walked over to the Suburban, I said, “Information is a powerful commodity in this business, Ben. If you come across something important, something no one else has, you should view it as an unexpected windfall and stash it away somewhere for a rainy day. One day, when a storm pops up on the horizon, you’ll be glad you did.”
He nodded. “Okay, I get that. But sooner or later, Felipe is going to tell the feds about that telephone number.”
“I’m sure he will, but I think Felipe has a hard time remembering numbers. More than likely, he can’t recall that phone number, and he’ll tell the feds he wrote it down on the bag, the same way he told us about it.”
“But won’t they—”
“By the time the DHS guys show up in Carlton’s office and demand we share that bag of chips with them, the Agency will have already figured out whether the number is connected to Hezbollah or not. That way, no matter what happens, we’ll be one step ahead of them, and when you find yourself sharing the roadway with the feds, that’s a good place to be.”
“Is that why you made the phone call before the feds showed up? Do you have someone tracing that number right now?”
“That’s right.”
As if on cue, my phone vibrated.
“But what if—”
“Sorry, Ben,” I said, heading back towards the house, “I need to get back inside and see what Carlton wants.”
When I walked back inside the house, I took the first left and entered the living room.
Gladys had always called it the great room instead of the living room, and, with its multiple seating areas, it had obviously been designed for entertaining large groups of people.
I didn’t care anything about the room’s design. All I cared about was whether the room was far enough away from Carlton’s study to prevent him from being able to overhear my conversation with Katherine.
I pulled out my iPhone and looked down at the caller ID before accepting the call.
However, the call wasn’t from Katherine.
It was from Nikki Saxon.
* * * *
Nikki and I had met in Norman, about a month after the DDO had forced me to take a year’s medical leave. My initial encounter with Detective Nikki Saxon had not been an auspicious one.
She had been assigned to investigate the death of a young woman I’d recently met. Since I’d been the person who’d discovered the woman’s body, the detective had conducted an extensive interrogation of me and had even considered me a possible suspect in the murder investigation.
Because of those suspicions, and also because Ahmed Al-Amin could have been involved in the woman’s death, I’d made the decision to break Agency rules and reveal my true identity to the detective. Although she’d been skeptical of my assertion, after verifying my CIA employment with a mutual friend, she’d allowed me to work with her to find the woman’s killer.
Despite the circumstances surrounding our introduction, I’d been captivated by Nikki from the moment we’d first met. Admittedly, in the beginning, I was drawn to her beautiful face and incredible figure. Later, after getting to know her better, I realized the hidden qualities she possessed were equally appealing.
Such an attraction was unusual for me because I considered myself a loner, and, with my lousy track record with women, I’d made it a practice never to get too close to the opposite sex.
In spite of this, Nikki and I had established a connection, and our fledgling relationship had been one of the reasons I’d purchased a home in Norman and left Stormy in her care when I’d gone after Ahmed.
Having Nikki look after Stormy had been an ideal situation when I’d been on assignment in Caracas. Now, however, Nikki had been invited to attend the FBI’s sixteen-week Law Enforcement Training School in Quantico, Virginia, and her classes were due to begin in less than a week.
After Carlton had ordered me back to Langley, I’d discussed with her what we should do about Stormy. She’d agreed the only thing we could do was to board him somewhere, and she’d offered to find him a suitable kennel before she left Norman.
Even though I knew she was probably calling me about Stormy’s care, when I accepted the call, I felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of hearing her voice again.
“Hi, Titus. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
I walked over to the windows facing the west side of Carlton’s property and looked out on the backyard. It was a peaceful setting.
“No, Nikki, it’s fine. Nothing’s happening around here right now.”
As I gazed out on Carlton’s country garden, with its trimmed bushes and blossoming flowers, I suddenly had a vision of Nikki and me walking hand in hand down the sloping path toward the swimming pool.
“Were you able to get some rest after you got there?”
Nikki’s question brought me back to reality.
I couldn’t very well tell her I’d been busy kidnapping a young Hispanic kid, smuggling him out of a hot zone, and transporting him to a magnificent country estate. Nor could I tell her I believed this same kid was involved in a Hezbollah plot to use chemical weapons on the nation’s capital.
Since the truth wasn’t an option for me, I did what I did best and lied to her.
As I stared out at the perfectly manicured grounds, I assured her I’d spent a restful afternoon at a Residence Inn in Arlington, Virginia. After spinning my tale, I changed the subject and asked her if she’d had any luck finding a kennel for Stormy.
“As long as it’s okay with you, I think I’ve come up with a better solution. I’ve asked my captain to let Stormy stay out at his farm again. I believe I told you he has two labs of his own, and when I went out there to pick Stormy up after your mother’s funeral, he seemed reluctant to leave his new playmates behind.”
In the middle of the Clear Signal operation, I’d been forced to fly home to Flint, Michigan, to attend my mother’s funeral. The day after I’d arrived there, Nikki had surprised me by showing up at my hotel.
She’d explained her presence by saying she was there because that’s what friends did for each other. I hadn’t argued with her. In fact, I’d been so happy to see her, I’d been speechless.
Later, after spending several days with her, I realized I wanted Nikki to be more than just a friend who showed up at funerals.
“That sounds like the perfect arrangement. What about you? Are you leaving for Quantico soon?”
“I’m planning to leave in a couple of days. I should be there by the end of the week. Will I be able to see you then?”
Although I was happy she’d asked the question, I knew I couldn’t make such a commitment, so I brushed her off. “I doubt it, Nikki, but you’ll be so busy at Quantico, you won’t have time to think about me.”
Suddenly, I knew I wasn’t alone, and I instinctively grabbed for my gun as I turned away from the window.
Seconds later, when I saw who was standing in the doorway, I released my grip on the gun and immediately told Nikki goodbye.
Carlton asked, “Who’s Nikki and why is she coming to Quantico?”
Chapter 9
