Jake shook his head and said, “Never came up.”
Hafner pressed. “Did you bring it up?”
“Nope, never was an opportunity to discuss it.”
“Why not?”
Jake paused before responding. He could trade barbs in the locker room with the best of them. He could laugh at himself and enjoyed the playful banter with his fellow street agents, but administrators needed to walk softly when questioning his investigative strategy. “What do you mean, ‘why not’? I’m asking you, ‘why?’ Why would I bring it up? Why would we even talk about it? I have no reason to inquire about counterfeit money. It makes no sense.”
Hafner either wasn’t listening or didn’t comprehend Jake’s logic. “But we need to pursue the Supernote. That’s the whole purpose for your meeting Park. Why didn’t you bring it up? We’re getting a lot of pressure from Washington. Headquarters is being hammered by the State Department. We owe it to them to resolve this quickly. The highest levels in Washington want and deserve answers.”
Jake looked at Trey and Rachel before dealing with the idiocy confronting him at this late hour. “In my undercover capacity I don’t even know he deals in Supernotes.”
“But Reid paid you with Supernotes,” said Hafner.
“But I don’t know that.”
Hafner failed to grasp the distinction. “Of course you do. That’s what the meeting in the SCIF was all about.”
“Jake Kruse knows but Jake Goode doesn’t,” offered Jake in a somewhat detached voice, with just a hint of sarcasm.
Rachel Chang intervened. “Boss, he’s right. In his undercover capacity he doesn’t know the money was counterfeit. He would have no reason to bring it up since there isn’t any way for him to identify the bills as being bogus.”
Hafner gave a halfhearted “whatever” look before he said to Jake, “The point here is that you need to get on with finding out everything you can about the Supernotes.”
Jake was just below erupting but maintained his composure. “And what scenarios do you have in mind? I welcome an opportunity to discuss our options.”
“You’re operational. You come up with the plan. I’m telling you to get it done and get it done quickly,” Hafner said like a petulant child.
Jake looked at the others before facing Hafner. “If you think you can do it any better, pal, I’ll make the introduction.”
Jake did an about-face and walked toward his car, not waiting for a response.
Hafner started to chase after him but Rachel held out her hand, blocking his pursuit. “Boss, I think it’s best to let it go. Trey and I will touch base with him tomorrow.”
Through it all, Wilson never uttered a word.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jake was steaming when he got into the Rover. He also knew better than to let it show. He took a deep breath, started the vehicle, eased methodically out of the parking space, and headed toward the Rosemead Boulevard exit. While waiting for the light to change he was thinking about the confrontation that had just occurred — and how much it distracted from accomplishing the mission.
He was a hardened warrior — and wanted nothing more than the satisfaction of removing the cancers of society. He had proven himself on the battlefield in Iraq, and on more than a dozen undercover assignments since joining the Bureau. But he also knew “fighting the good fight” included too many skirmishes with administrators who didn’t understand or refused to acknowledge the complexities of undercover work on the street.
Hafner was one more self-proclaimed beacon of brilliance from Headquarters who spent too much time jockeying for the throne at D.C.’s puzzle palace. He would never grasp an essential reality: every undercover assignment is an unscripted one-act play with the actors fluent in the language of deceit. Jake needed to get home before he went Waco on this ASAC. He resolved to remove the administrator from his Christmas card list.
As the light turned and Jake pulled out onto Rosemead and headed toward home, his cell phone rang. He fished through his pocket for the phone and answered on the third ring. “Yeah, this is Jake.”
It was Bill Holodnak, a former Marine on the Joint Terrorism Task Force. “Jake, I’m in the wire room working Park’s phones.”
“I was there less than an hour ago.”
“Well, apparently since you departed, there was some kind of home invasion at Park’s. He just got off the phone with someone, maybe one of his security people. From what our interpreter says, Park was saying his daughter Jenny and his granddaughter were kidnapped.”
“What?” shouted Jake. “Are the police there? What happened?”
“I’m not sure but I think Tommy’s dead.”
“No! Was Park hurt?”
“I think he’s hurt but is going to be okay. There was a lot of confusion but I’ve got our Korean translator listening to a playback of the call.”
“Did you call the police?”
“I called 9-1-1 but the dispatcher said they were already notified. I know it wasn’t Park. We would have picked it up on the wire. It must have been a neighbor or maybe the alarm company.”
Jake pulled the Rover to a halt in the parking lot of a bank and said, “This may work to our advantage. Call Trey. He’s with Rachel and Hafner. I just left them. Tell Trey what happened and that I’m heading back toward Park’s home in San Marino.”
“Roger,” Holodnak replied. “Anything else?”
“Not right now. I’m going to call Park on a cell phone number you may not have on the wire warrant. I’ll record it in case you can’t listen in. I’m going to call as if I have an idea on how to handle Reid, his attorney. Maybe he’ll tell me something about what just happened.”
“That might work. I’ll notify the others now. I called you first since your stake is personal,” said Bill.
“Thanks,” said Jake.
“I’ve got your six. Be careful.”
“Thanks, Bill. I’ll give Park a call.”
Jake ended the call and reached into his pocket for the number Park gave him. He activated the internal recording device on his phone and punched in the number.
Park answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Mr. Park, it’s Jake. As I was driving I got to thinking about how to handle Reid. What if we—”
Before Jake completed the sentence Park interrupted. “Where are you?”
“What’s wrong? You sound upset.”
“I need you back here immediately. I need some help, especially from someone outside the family.”
“Sure. I stopped to get gas and a bite to eat. I can be back at your house in a few minutes.”
“The police may be here when you arrive. Tell them I asked for you.”
“What’s wrong? Why the police?”
“Just get here,” ordered Park.
Jake heard the weak sound of sirens in the background as he ended the call. Instead of heading for home, Jake turned west on Huntington and backtracked to Park’s home in San Marino. This time he made the trip without “the King.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
When Jake arrived at Park’s home, the San Marino police were on the scene. Red and blue flashes shot into the night sky like strobe lights at a seventies disco. The media were also on hand, reporters across the street attempting to get a few facts to piece together a story and helicopters circling, their bright lights attempting to get footage for the eleven o’clock news. Uniformed officers blocked the entrance at the gate. Jake couldn’t very well flash his FBI credentials to gain access. He would have to bluff his way through the cordon — and still avoid being plastered on the front page of tomorrow’s Los Angeles Times.
He drove down the block, parking around the corner from Park’s home. Grabbing a baseball cap from the backseat, he pulled it down low on his head, put a new memory chip in his recording device, and locked his Glock in the glove compartment.