Against All Odds, page 3
“Where did he meet his girlfriend?”
“Ivana was a piece of work, all cleverly disguised behind her exotic good looks,” Thurman said. “You should start with her, because if there’s anyone who was in the intelligence field, it was her. Working at the embassy by day, but at night, she was a party animal—at least that’s what Thaxton’s body guards told me. She was constantly dragging Thaxton to a Russian dance club—I think the name of it is Mixtura—and keeping him out until the wee hours of the morning. She’s the reason he got two DUIs last month.”
“Do you think she would speak with us?” Alex asked.
“I doubt she’ll give you the time of day, at least not at her office. You might be able to chat with her while she’s out partying. But get to her early. The later you find her, the more drunk she will be.”
“We’d like to get access to Thaxton’s apartment in New York, if you’ll consent to that,” Hawk said.
“That’s not necessary. I had all of Thaxton’s belongings packed up and shipped back to us here. They are boxed up in his room at our house right now.”
“Do you mind if we look through them?” Alex asked.
“What do you expect to find?”
“Maybe a clue as to who’s behind all this,” Hawk said. “I’m sure this wasn’t just some assassin acting on his own.”
“I’m not sure you want to wade into that quagmire. Besides, even if you find out something, I doubt you’ll be able to do anything about it. These FSB agents acting as diplomats are untouchable.”
“Nobody’s untouchable, Senator.”
Thurman sighed. “You two are persistent. I guess you can take a peek. Maybe you’ll have better luck than I did. I couldn’t find anything that looked remotely suspicious. Just names and numbers, all part of his job.”
“I appreciate you giving us the opportunity, sir,” Alex said.
Hawk and Alex followed Thurman back to his house. Located just inside the city limits of McLean, Virginia, the senator’s neighborhood stood in stark contrast to the bustle of the nation’s capital. Serene streets and luscious parks marked the area.
“Every time I visit these neighborhoods, I question my career path,” Hawk said.
Alex snickered. “You think you could do what these men do? It’d make you go crazy.”
“You’re probably right. But still,” Hawk said, nodding toward a sprawling Victorian mansion with an estate that he estimated encompassed five acres.
“I know, I know. It’s the good life, right? You think that until you learn about all the shit they have to put up with. I don’t think it’s worth it.”
Hawk nodded. “I think you’re right—until I think about worming my way along the hot desert floor as I maneuver myself into position to hopefully put a bullet in a guy’s head before he gets one in mine. Seeing all this does make me question my sanity.”
“Trust me, Hawk, you’re not made for this life. You’re doing exactly what you should be doing.”
“But look at that.” He pointed toward a red convertible Lamborghini parked next to a Lotus in front of a three-story brick home.
“I’ll concede that it might be fun for a day,” she said.
“Thank you. That’s all I was looking for. I just wanted to make sure that my wife was a normal human being.”
She chuckled and shook her head.
“Looks like we’re here.”
Thurman’s car signaled left and waited for the black gate to swing open. From the road, not much was visible of the senator’s home. An eight-foot white brick wall surrounded the estate. Only the top story of the house peeked over the wall.
When Hawk followed Thurman inside, Alex’s jaw went slack. Set back about fifty meters from the road was the Tudor-style home. A well-kempt garden surrounded the exterior, while the grass was cut short and tight like a golf green. At the end of the drive way was a five-car garage that had an enclosed walkway leading to the house.
“Okay,” Alex said, “maybe it’d be fun for a week.”
Hawk shook his head and grinned. “So you really are a normal human being.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Don’t get any ideas. I still like hacking into computer mainframes and going on global adventures with you. And you know I’ll never drive a minivan.”
“Famous last words,” Hawk said.
They both got out.
“If I have to drive a minivan, don’t think you won’t be driving one too sometimes.”
“If we were to get one for some strange reason, I’d soup it up. It’d be the coolest minivan on the block.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good thing we won’t have to deal with that problem.”
The garage door closed behind Thurman’s car, and then he met them by exiting through a side door.
“If you don’t mind, please make this quick,” Thurman said as he strode toward them. “My wife relishes her privacy, and I know she wants to be able to grieve in peace.”
“Of course,” Alex said. “We’ll get out of your hair as soon as possible.”
Thurman led them upstairs to Thaxton’s room. Old trophies from youth sports covered the top of his dresser, while ribbons and photos were pinned to the pair of corkboards on opposite walls in his room. Several boxes were strewn across the floor, items haphazardly placed inside without any sense of organization.
“What are we looking for?” Alex asked.
“I want to see his planner,” Hawk said.
They both rummaged through the dozen boxes or so until Alex fished one out of the bottom.
“This is it,” she said. “It’s even got this year emblazoned across the front.”
Hawk scrambled over next to her. “Let’s look at the last three months. That should give us a picture of what he was in to.”
Alex flipped through the pages, but the previous month was missing. “Well, that’s odd.”
“Make a note of that, and mention it to Thurman before we leave,” Hawk said. “I want to know if anyone else had access to this information before it was returned here.”
Alex zipped through the pages but couldn’t find anything that would indicate he was involved in anything suspicious. She went to close it but felt something crinkle against her finger, something that seemed like it was coming from the cover. “Now this is strange. Feel this.”
She placed Hawk’s hand on top of the padded cover, and it made the sound of paper crinkling.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Alex asked.
“I already told you that I can’t read your mind,” Hawk said with a smile. “It’s an ability no man actually possesses.”
“Get your knife, and cut out whatever that sheet of paper is inside,” she said.
“Not necessary,” he said as he slid his hand inside and eased out a sheet of paper.
“Jack pot,” she said.
“Not so fast,” Hawk said. “We need to open it first.”
Hawk unfolded the sheet and spread it out on the ground. It was a list of names, a couple which Alex recognized.
“I think we might be on to something,” she said.
“I know that name,” Hawk said, pointing to one near the top. “And that one, too. These are all FSB agents.”
“But what about that one?” Alex asked as she fingered a name near the bottom.
“He’s not FSB. He works in the CIA’s covert operations.”
“And this woman here appears to have a Scandanavian name.”
“I’m not so sure this is just a bunch of FSB agents. Pocket this, and let’s get out of here.”
Alex complied, shutting up the planner but only after taking a few pictures with her phone.
On their way out the door, Hawk pulled Thurman aside.
“Did you find anything?” Thurman asked.
“Nothing all that earth-shattering,” Hawk said, “but we did find a page missing from his planner. Has anyone else had access to all of Thaxton’s belongings since you brought it back?”
Thurman shrugged. “The maid, maybe his brother who was home for the funeral.”
“And who collected all these things for you?”
“Just my secretary.”
“Does she have a name?” Hawk asked.
“Yes, Irina Lopovsky.”
Hawk eyed Thurman closely, unsure if he was joking.
“Irina Lopovsky?” Hawk repeated slowly.
“Yes,” Thurman said. “Do you know her? She’s a lovely lady.”
“She also sounds Russian,” Alex said.
“Moldovan, actually,” Thurman corrected. “She immigrated here at the age of three with her mother.”
Hawk eyed Thurman closely. “Don’t you think that would be important to know, that your son who we suspect was killed by an FSB assassin had a father who employs a Russian on his staff and entrusted her to gather Thaxton’s belongings?”
Thurman sighed. “I’ve known her and her family for years. She’s clean. Trust me. All my employees have been through such a rigorous screening process that they could run for a government office without even a hint of scandal emerging from their past despite the media’s best efforts to unearth them. There simply isn’t anything there.”
“So we should just take your word for it?” Hawk asked.
“Be my guest,” Thurman said. “Question her all you like, but I promise that you’re not going to find even a hint of what you’re looking for. And then in the meantime, your chances of finding Krasnoff will diminish. Is that what you want to happen?”
Hawk shrugged. “We’re focused on apprehending your son’s killer, but we’re also not afraid to turn over any other rocks that we might find along the way.”
“I understand,” Thurman said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my wife and I would like to continue grieving in private.”
“Of course,” Alex said.
Thurman led them to the door, stopping to have one final word before ushering them outside.
“Be careful where you dig,” Thurman said. “There might be something you find that’s best left alone.”
Hawk eased into the driver’s seat and looked at Alex. “What do you think?”
“I think we’ve got a potential mess on our hands, and we better figure out a way to clean it up without anyone else getting hurt,” she said.
“Without a doubt,” Hawk added.
CHAPTER 5
BLUNT STRIAIGHTENED THEN smoothed his tie before standing up to welcome Rebecca Paris. He hadn’t even made it halfway across the room before she opened the door and let herself in.
Lugging a briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, she seemed to move effortlessly inside.
“I’m sure Linda could’ve given you a hand if you’d asked her,” Blunt said, gesturing to help.
She ignored him and marched toward his desk. Before having a seat, she set her coffee cup down and flung her other belongings into the other chair.
“I don’t have much time,” she began as she spoken in a measured tone. “And I doubt you do either since you’re such a busy man. So, I’ll make this short.”
Blunt shuffled back to his spot and sat down, wide-eyed as he listened to Rebecca speak as though she were the one in charge.
“Before we begin, I’d like to issue my condolences to you again,” Blunt said. “I never had the chance to—”
“Save it,” she said, holding up her hand. “You’ve had over a year to pick up the phone and give me a call. If you really meant what you were about to say regarding Lee, then you’ll do what I’m asking you to do.”
Blunt leaned back in his seat, interlocking his fingers and placing them behind his head. “After years of working in Washington, I’ve learned not to make any promises I don’t intend to keep. That policy might run counter to how most successful people in Washington operate, but I’d rather do what I do with a modicum of integrity.”
“Nice speech,” she said tersely. “But like I said, if you really cared about Lee, you’ll put your money where your mouth is and help me out.”
Blunt chuckled. “I like you. You’re bold and sassy. You should be on television instead of buried on the internet.”
She held up her hand and looked aside. “Please. Television reporting is an absolute joke. Editors expect you to spin the story for their target audience. And if you don’t, you’re relegated to some panel to argue like a bunch of second graders on the playground fighting to keep the fat kid off your dodge ball team.”
“You don’t mince words, do you?” Blunt said with a laugh.
“I guess you’ve never read my column, have you?”
“No, but I promise you that I’ll be looking it up as soon as you leave. You’re a breath of fresh air in a city full of people gasping beneath the weight of a million polluted promises.”
She smiled for the first time since she entered the room. “Maybe you should be the writer, or at least you could be a source. The Skinny could use someone with your access to all the major players here.”
“I’ll have to politely decline,” he said. “You don’t get to rub shoulders with these people by being a snitch. However, I’m open to hearing what you have to say, so please let’s get on with it.”
Rebecca took a deep breath and then tucked her auburn hair behind her ears. She reached over and dug out a folder from her briefcase on the seat next to her. Opening the file, she pulled out a few pages and set them on top.
“Lee was terrified of getting murdered for doing his job. Obviously, he had a reason to feel that way. But as a result, he never kept any of his really important research at his apartment. He kept just enough on his computer to write his stories, but he always back them up on the cloud in multiple locations. The real juicy tidbits he uncovered were kept in a file in a fireproof safe at my apartment. He was even so nervous about anyone finding out about us that none of our friends ever knew we were dating.”
“For what it’s worth, when I read Lee’s file after he died, you were never in it.”
She nodded subtly. “That’s why I’m alive today and in possession of these documents, pages and pages of information related to an investigation he was doing on Senator Guy Hirschbeck.”
Blunt’s eyes widened. “Hirschbeck died a couple of years ago.”
“I know—something I don’t think is a mere coincidence.”
“Why’s that?”
“Lee started digging into Hirschbeck before he died. He got a tip from someone—presumably a political rival who wanted someone else to do their dirty work—about the senator’s involvement in a secret government task force.”
Blunt shrugged. “It’s hard not to get involved in one of those when you’re on the senate’s intelligence committee. Most of them are rather benign, but the senators keep them hush-hush because they don’t want their opponents in upcoming elections to have campaign ammunition.”
“The committee Hirschbeck was involved with proved to be costly for him, but not in the political sense. And based on what went down, I think it’s safe to say that it wasn’t some benign committee. What he was doing led to serious consequences.”
“And what exactly was he doing?” Blunt asked.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
Blunt sighed. “Look, I’ll be honest with you since I can tell you’re a straight shooter. Hirschbeck and I didn’t really get along. I was operating a secret government program myself—and Hirschbeck wouldn’t stop hounding me about it. I grew tired of his relentless questioning about what I was up to. Of course, I couldn’t tell him because he didn’t have the level of clearance I did. In fact, hardly anyone did. Ironically enough, we weren’t doing anything that other branches of our intelligence community weren’t doing, but we had a license to operate beyond normal boundaries. Hirschbeck had been a thorn in my side, so I can’t say that I shed a tear for him when he died. However, I was surprised to hear about his death. He was a decent fellow and a good politician who looked out for his constituents. But the entity that ordered his death remains a mystery to me, a mystery I’m not anxious to solve at the moment.”
Rebecca shook her head. “That’s the difference between a politician and a reporter. I won’t rest until I find out what happened and get the full story.”
“So, why do you need my help?”
“I thought you might be the kind of ally I need in this town to find out the truth about what Hirschbeck was into.”
“I don’t think Hirschbeck was that kind of guy. He was more hound dog than Doberman Pinscher.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Mr. Blunt. Hirschbeck found out something, and that’s what got him killed. He was being a hound dog and stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have. I’m just trying to find out what he knew.”
“And how can I help you do that?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said with a smile. “Now, before Lee died, he told me that he interviewed Hirschbeck, who was interested in bringing to light some nefarious agency working in the shadows of the U.S. government. Lee didn’t tell me any more than that, but he did tell me that he stashed tapes of his interviews with Hirschbeck in a locker at Union Station. I’ve tried to get access to them, but I couldn’t find the key in any of Lee’s belongings. I went through his apartment, but it had already been ransacked. And since I’m not listed as his next of kin or on his will, the manager at the station refuses to grant me access. I’ve even tried with a few cop friends of mine, but they didn’t want to touch it. For all I know, this could be a giant dead end. Someone may have already found the key, opened the locker, and removed all the tapes. But if they haven’t, there’s a treasure trove in there that I want to get my hands on. Finishing this story is the only way I can truly honor Lee’s death.”
“Give me the information, and I’ll see what I can do,” Blunt said, sliding a pad and pen across his desk to Rebecca.
She nodded and scribbled down the info. “For what it’s worth, Lee liked you. He had nice things to say about you, which was unusual. To be honest, he didn’t really care for most of the people he dealt with, viewing them cynically. But he was a good man who cared about exposing the darkness in our own government.”
“Well, there’s plenty of that to be unearthed.”
