“Today?”
Uzi consulted his watch. “As in right now.”
Leila looked around, as if thinking of a reason to decline. “I just got here. I haven’t had time to evaluate the crime scene.”
“I can brief you over lunch.”
“How about we do dinner tomorrow night, and then I can stay here and look around, and I won’t feel like I’ve shirked my responsibilities.”
“I admire your work ethic. Dinner it is. Any place in particular?”
“There’s a Mediterranean place I know off Constitution in Fairfax. Amir’s. Not as fancy as that farmer’s place, but it’s my type of food.”
Uzi was so focused on the beauty of her face that he was hardly listening to what she was saying. “Okay. When and where?”
Leila’s eyes narrowed. “That place I was just talking about. Amir’s. In Fairfax.”
“Right.”
She smiled knowingly. “Say tomorrow, seven PM.”
“Okay. ‘Tomorrow, seven PM.’” He grinned. They both laughed.
“See you then.”
As he watched her stride away, DeSantos’s approaching voice grabbed his attention. “Are we all squared away? Did you exchange any information with her, or just lots of hormones?”
“Hormones,” Uzi said. “No info.” They turned and headed for his car. “We’re having dinner tomorrow. Some Mediterranean place in Fairfax.”
“Amir’s,” DeSantos said. “Great food. You’ll like it.”
Uzi pulled out his keys and winked at his partner. “I’m not going there for the food.”
The chilled evening descended quickly. While Uzi spent the afternoon hours going through emailed reports his task force agents had submitted, the hours melted into a clearing sunset. He was making steady progress when his phone line began blinking. He’d turned off the ringer hours earlier and his secretary had already gone home. He picked up the receiver, but no one was there.
Uzi set it down and turned his attention to another intra-office email. Ten minutes later, a message from Agent Hoshi Koh caught his eye: “I might have something. Call me ASAP.”
Uzi lifted the handset, but before he could dial, Hoshi was standing in his doorway, her hand poised to knock.
“I was just about to call you,” he said as he set the phone back in its cradle.
“I tried your line twice, and then your cell. But you didn’t answer.”
“I turned off the ringers. What’s up?”
Hoshi took a seat on his guest chair and reclined. “You really wanna know?”
Uzi tilted his head. “Hoshi, it’s late, I’m tired, and my brain is about to close up shop for the night. So if you’ve got something, speak up or hold it till tomorrow.”
“I thought you saved the grouch for everyone else and your charming side for me.”
“Sorry. I really am exhausted.” Uzi leaned back in his large leather office chair and rubbed his right eye with the knuckle of his fist. “So… you found something?”
“Yeah, a guy who used to work with Ellison until a month ago, when he was transferred to Pax River, a different branch of HMX. Lieutenant Brad Wheeler. From what I’ve been able to gather, Wheeler hated Ellison’s guts. They had more than one knock-down drag-out off base. Had something to do with Wheeler’s transfer.”
“Wonder why Vasquez didn’t tell us about that.” He noted Hoshi’s crumpled brow. “The Aircraft Maintenance Officer at HMX. He had every chance to tell us about Wheeler’s beef— Shit, he probably had a hand in the transfer.”
“You want me to follow up?”
“I’ll have Hector do it. He and Vasquez go back aways.” Uzi thought a moment. “His sheet?”
“Clean.”
“Figured. Wouldn’t be at HMX if he had any marks. But you like this guy for Ellison.”
“He’s got to be looked at.”
“I agree. So where’s the problem?”
Hoshi shifted in her seat. “A buddy of Ellison’s at Quantico told us Wheeler recently purchased a forty-five.”
“Same caliber used on Ellison and his sister.”
“Could be coincidence and mean nothing, but—”
“Anyone talk to this guy?”
“I did. Alibi is weak. Says he was in bed, sick. I checked with Pax River, and he did call in sick. But no doctor’s visit before or after. No script, but a bunch of over-the-counter meds. Showed me a credit card receipt from CVS the day before the murder. I spoke with the store, and the receipt was for meds. But buying cold medicine and calling in sick doesn’t mean jack.” She received a nod from Uzi. “Other than that, I didn’t get much from him. Too damn disciplined.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a Marine.” Uzi rocked a bit in his chair, thinking. Then: “Gun records?”
Hoshi folded her arms across her chest and smiled wanly. “I knew you’d get to that sooner or later. In this case, later.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“The director won’t allow us to access the NICS,” she said, referring to the National Instant Criminal Background Check System, the federal audit log utilized by gun dealers to conduct background checks on gun purchasers. “So the gun records might tell us a nice story, except that I can’t get at them.”
Uzi squinted. “That makes no sense. We need those records. What’s his problem?”
“You really want to know?”
Uzi rose from his chair and stretched. “Hoshi, do you realize that every time I ask for your opinion, you answer me with a question?”
“Do I?” She caught herself and laughed. “Sorry.” She glanced over her right shoulder, then lowered her voice. “I’ve had my eye on Knox for a long time. I just don’t trust the guy. I’ve always felt he’s had his hands in the NFA’s coffers.”
At the mention of the National Firearms Alliance, Uzi’s ears perked up. “Like how?”
“To the tune of four-hundred thousand for his last senatorial reelection bid before he became director.”
Uzi whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”
“That’s a lot of influence,” Hoshi said.
Uzi’s eyes were roaming the room, but he was seeing nothing. He was thinking, putting this latest puzzle piece together with the others he’d inherited in the Rusch investigation. “Okay,” he finally said. “So I need to get with Shepard on this, see if he can chat up the attorney general, get him to talk some sense into our esteemed director. I mean, we’re all on the same side, right?” He shook his head. “Kind of strange for the head of the top law enforcement agency in the world to prevent his own agents from doing their jobs.”
“I just came from Shepard’s. He’s still here, if you want to talk to him.”
“Let’s do that.” He moved out from behind his desk and strolled through the doorway. “Anything come up on Gene Harmon?”
“How so?”
“Being chair of the House Select Committee on Intelligence, I figure the guy could’ve rattled a cage or two. See if he was involved in any unusually sensitive or controversial decisions the past couple of years.”
“May be tough to get that kind of info. Closed-door congressional stuff.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” He received a reluctant nod from Hoshi, then continued: “Put some people on his life. Known acquaintances, relatives, friends — especially ambassadors, foreign heads of state, that sort of thing.”
“Already being done.”
“And follow up on this Wheeler dude. Talk to his buddies, see what else we can dig up on the guy.”
“Speaking of digging up…” She handed him a message slip with a name and phone number scrawled across it. “A source of mine, works for a group that keeps tabs on gun-control issues. Gun Violence Center. He’s got some info for you.”
“You already spoke to him?”
“Let’s just say I’ve got an open line to him. He usually knows what’s going to happen before it does. Must have good intuition.”