Verhoven met Tillman’s gaze but didn’t answer.
“For godsake, Jim!” Lorene said softly. “He saved my life. Yours, too, for that matter. Either we trust him or we don’t.”
Verhoven nodded but still hesitated for a moment. “It’s the State of the Union address,” he said finally. “We’re going to decapitate the entire top tier of the US government. We’re going to kill them all.”
26
I-79, NEAR THE VIRGINIA BORDER
Gideon’s encrypted cell phone rang as he was heading north on Interstate 79, cruise control set four miles above the speed limit.
“Do you have any clue just how deep in the shit you are right now?” It was Nancy on the line. “You’re wanted for questioning as a person of interest in connection with the shoot-out at Verhoven’s compound.”
“‘Person of interest’? What does that even mean?”
“It means Dahlgren’s already spinning this to try to make it look like it’s your fault. I suspect he’s even trumping something up so that he can arrest you.”
“He’s the one who provoked the situation.”
“Were you there?”
“I’m not sure I should answer that, given what you just said.”
“You’re not the only one who’s in trouble. He tracked the equipment I gave you, which probably gives him some sort of unauthorized-use-of-federal-property charge if he feels like using it. After that, it’s just a question of what other junk he wants to pile on.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this,” he said.
Gideon took Nancy’s answering silence as confirmation of her own regret. The cell phone beeped again. Tillman’s number popped up on the screen
“Can you hold on, Nancy?”
“Is it Tillman?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell him to ditch his phone. Both of you need to do that as soon as we’re done with this call. Our cells are encrypted so they can’t listen to us, but they can still triangulate the signal to locate you.”
Gideon's War and Hard Target
“Okay. 82222222 d‡Hold on.” Gideon put her on hold and took...
“We need to set up a delivery time and place for those items we talked about,” said his brother. That was their cover. Gideon was Tillman’s arms dealer.
From the way Tillman spoke it was clear to Gideon that Verhoven was in the room with him and might even be listening in on their conversation. “Where and when?” Gideon asked.
“There’s a park on Sully Road in Centerville, just off twenty-eight. Be there in two hours.”
“I’ll need at least four to get together the whole package.”
“Fine. Four hours then.”
“But there’s some options you need to specify on your shopping list.”
He understood this was Gideon’s cue for Tillman to communicate whatever he could about what he’d learned so far.
“Those last breaching charges you sold me were dog shit. I need the good stuff. Skip the Charlies, the Oscars, both of the things from Latvia, and none of that Irish stuff. I’d prefer the Eagles, but the Richards would also be okay.”
“No to Charlie, Oscar, double Latvia or Ireland, yes to the Eagles and Richards.”
“Write it down, man. I can’t afford to have a problem.”
Charlie, Oscar—that was radio letter code. He was pretty sure that’s what Tillman was getting at. He wrote down the letters. C. O. L. L. I. E. R. Tillman continued: “While I’ve got you, I don’t want you using that supplier you asked me about.” He hoped Gideon would understand he was talking about Mixon. “It’s a dead issue.”
There was a brief pause. “Understood.”
“Four hours.”
“One last thing. I have an inside source says the Feds are upping their scanning game. You need to burn this phone and move on.”
“Copy that. Thanks for the heads-up.” Tillman hung up. He’d wanted to tell Gideon that he’d discovered the target was the State of the Union address, but that would have to wait for their face-to-face meeting four hours from now.
Gideon switched back to Nancy. “That was Tillman. Verhoven was listening, so he couldn’t say anything directly, but he managed to tell me that Mixon is dead. And that the guy Mixon recorded talking to Verhoven: His name is Collier. Can you trace that?”
Nancy sighed. “Dahlgren grilled the hell out of me half an hour ago, and he’s trying to get me to tell him where you are. I convinced him that I didn’t know. And that’s when he suspended me. He’s in damage control mode right now. He won’t listen to reason, he won’t listen to me, and he especially won’t listen to you. If he brings you in, it’s just going to be so he can pin this whole disaster in West Virginia on you.”
Gideon felt a rush of anger toward Dahlgren. Nancy had just been trying to do her job, and now she was being punished for it by a bureaucrat who was more concerned with Mix qned with covering his own ass than with protecting the public. Worse still, Nancy was his only ally inside the Bureau, whose resources he needed.
“Do you have any way to check out Collier? If we get some solid proof, Dahlgren won’t have a choice except to listen.”
He could hear Nancy breathing on the other end. He knew he was asking a lot of her, but without her help he would be operating blindly. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, she said softly, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Then the phone clicked dead.
Gideon was coming up on a rest stop, the welcome station for the state of Virginia. He pulled in, set his phone in a rack full of brochures detailing the state’s many fine tourist destinations, and decided to forgo the cup of coffee he desperately needed so he could distance himself as quickly as possible from the traceable burner.
Nancy got off the phone and put her face in her hands. She was sitting at her desk on K Street, staring out the window. She knew Gideon was right. Dahlgren wouldn’t listen to reason, and without more evidence, they’d never be able to convince him. But what could she do? She’d been suspended. Someone from OPR was supposed to come in about five minutes and take her gun and her credentials.
She sighed and looked at her watch.
Dahlgren may have given the order for her suspension. But that didn’t mean the word had reached the IT department yet. She logged into her account and started typing furiously.
It only took a moment for the computer to find a correlation between the names Collier and Verhoven.
Collier, John C. SS# 000-41-3797. DOB 4/16/85. Born Pocatello, Idaho.
She pulled his credit bureau report and found that his second most recent address was listed in Anderson, West Virginia. Six months ago, though, he had moved to an address in Idaho.
She pulled up the address, found it registered to Wilco Partners, LLC. A few more minutes of data drilling revealed that Wilco Partners consisted of only one partner, a man by the name of Dale Wilmot. A quick scan of Google revealed that Forbes magazine named him the 957th richest man in America, with business interests primarily in timber, but also in heating, air-conditioning, and trucking.
He was a big handsome guy in his late fifties who looked like the older brother of the star in a cowboy movie.
According to an article in Forbes, Wilmot’s only son had been grievously injured in Iraq nearly two years ago, after which Wilmot had ceded daily operations of his companies to senior company management and, in the words of the article, “retreated to his majestic Idaho estate where he has devoted himself largely to philanthropic enterprises and to caring for his son.”
The address of Wilmot’s estate was unlisted, but Nancy managed to track it down through a federal tax assessment dated a year ago. But as the address came on screen, two tall men in dark suits walked into her office. “Special Agent Clement,” one of them said, “I would request that you surrender your duty weapon and credentials, and then accompany me to—”
Gideon's War and Hard Target