She had almost let herself get lost in their kiss, lost in Nick Morrelli's charm. It felt so right at the time, but there had to be something more, an anchor more solid than chemistry. Or was it simply her? Would she ever be able to trust a man enough to let him into her life? Had she not learned anything in the last two months?
Before boarding she had checked her voice messages. There was an early-morning one from Ben. He joked about her leaping over cars, said he was worried about her and to call when she got the opportunity. He didn't sound like a doctor simply worried about a patient. Outside of Gwen and her partner, R.J. Tully, she wasn't used to having someone worry about her. She wasn't used to having someone want to take care of her. She wasn't sure how she felt about it.
Suddenly she realized what was nagging her. It wasn't Patrick or Nick or even Ben. It was something A.D. Kunze had said earlier. Why couldn't she put her finger on it? She'd read a good deal of the debriefing file before realizing it was a debriefing of Special Agent Raymond Kunze. He'd failed to mention that not only had he conducted some of the early witness interviews, he was also one of the first agents on the scene.
She glanced over at him. He was stretched out and sleeping, a blanket pulled up to his chin. Fourteen years ago Kunze would have been about her age, an experienced agent who had probably already seen his share of the horrors people could do to each other. But nothing prepares you for mass murder.
During their trip from D.C. yesterday he had mentioned Oklahoma City. He'd come to this scene at the personal request of the Minnesota governor and the state's senior senator and he'd even brought along a profiler to connect the dots. For someone who, after fourteen years, still believed that John Doe #2 assisted Timothy McVeigh and then disappeared into the Oklahoma City landscape, Kunze had been anxious to wrap up the mall bombing in a neat, simple package. Had he purposely tried to sway the investigation in the wrong direction by insisting they consider Citizens for American Pride, a fringe, white supremacist group? A group that had never perpetrated violence in the past. Had Kunze already known about Henry Lee's secret group? Or suspected that it existed?
Maggie pulled her laptop case out from under her seat and started rifling through the contents. She pulled out the file folder she'd received on their flight from D.C. Inside were the warnings or what Kunze and Senator Foster had considered warnings. The copies of memorandums were poor quality. They mentioned phone calls and e-mails, but there were no transcripts of the calls, no copies of the e-mails. The memorandums talked about vague warnings but went into great detail about the group called Citizens for American Pride, CAP for short. What Maggie was most interested in, was where the warnings had been sent. Who received the e-mails and phone calls? Why had Kunze been so convinced the group was responsible?
Finally on the last page, toward the bottom, there was a brief note, almost a footnote: "Approximate times of e-mails and phone calls not recorded by Senator Foster's staff."
So it had been the senator who had received the warnings.
Maggie slumped down in the leather chair, tapping the corner of the file folder against the chair arm. It was exhausting trying to figure out any of this. Henry Lee had told her that Citizens for American Pride was a smokescreen, a distraction. But Kunze still believed the group might be involved. He'd even suggested they may have been used.
There were a lot of things about this case that didn't add up, no matter how hard she tried to look for the obvious. Smokescreens, kidnapping, hired bombers and secret organizations.
Kunze had mentioned Occam's razor and now Maggie remembered another adage: Don't speculate about hypothetical components. The simplest answer was usually the correct one. Was Phoenix the simplest answer or mere speculation? Was it possible that they were headed to the wrong airport? Could the Project Manager have chosen Las Vegas?
She shifted in her captain's chair, sank the back of her head into the soft leather and closed her eyes. One thing A.D. Kunze didn't quite understand and William of Occam would never have considered or included in his principle was exactly what Maggie counted ongut instinct. She'd bet her life on it any day of the week and hopefully she could count on it one more time.
CHAPTER 73
Everything had gone smoothly. No more glitches. Asante was pleased.
The crew in Minneapolis had disbanded, destroying or taking with them anything that could be incriminating. And if they had gotten sloppy, or even if they were detained, it didn't matter. None of them had met him or seen what he looked like. They knew absolutely nothing about him. He had a new SIM card in his cell phone. He'd even reprogrammed his computer. The numbers they had been using to reach him, no longer existed. There was no way to connect any of them to Asante, which was just another mark of a brilliant project manager. Even members of his crew were cutaways. No one would be able to reach him now. Not the people he'd hired, nor the men who had hired him. Everything was in place.
The white Chevy TrailBlazer he'd chosen from the Las Vegas airport's long-term parking lot had proven to be a comfortable ride. It had also been a plus that the SUV didn't have an OnStar navigation system. The owner had accidentally left a printout of his flight itinerary on the passenger seat. He wouldn't be returning until the following week.
As extra insurance, before Asante left the parking lot he drove around until he found another white Chevy SUV. The second one was an older model Chevy Blazer, but it had served his purpose. He exchanged the two SUVs' license plates easily in the middle of the night with no one around to notice.
Asante had driven straight through, all three hundred and fifty-nine miles with only one interruption. He'd exited his route to stop at a storage facility a few minutes after crossing the Nevada/Arizona border. The entire trip had taken him just over six hours.
Now he ate dinner in his hotel room, a feast by room service standards. He could see the airport from his window, continuous blinking lights as the last of the evening flights came in and went out. That was one thing he liked about Phoenix. You could see forever without buildings getting in the way. He wondered if the blast tomorrow morning could be seen from this very window.
Asante finished the last of his dessert, wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and shoved the tray aside. Standing, he could see the hotel's parking lot from this window, too. The Pullmans were in the Chevy TrailBlazer, packed and ready. Everything else he needed for tomorrow he had pulled from his duffel bag and laid out on the second double bed.
He fingered the Carolina Panthers baseball cap. It was beginning to show some wear though he'd taken good care of it over the years. He'd never watched a Panthers game in his life. In fact, he'd bought the cap at a convenience store in Junction City, Kansas. It had been an impulse buy at the time. Asante didn't believe in lucky charms but this ordinary ball cap had come close to being one.
He rubbed his hands together and glanced around the room. Everything was in place. No glitches. He'd get a good night's sleep.
CHAPTER 74
Sunday, November 25
Sky Harbor International Airport
Phoenix, Arizona
Nick wished he had Jerry Yarden here to help him. The quirky little man had an eye for details and a knack for electronic security equipment. He would have had everything in place by now. Instead Nick had been at it since midnight, working with two security technicians, installing and preparing equipment he'd only just learned to operate a few weeks ago.