“What about where he lived?”“He lived with me. I've been through all of his stuff — he wasn't much for possessions anyway. They're all boxed for charity. Just some clothes and stuff like that.”
“We need to figure out who is controlling this operation.”
“I agree. Then what are we going to do?”
“Find some way to convince them to stop. Or make them.”
“Like kill them?”
“Yes.”
She held his gaze and nodded. “I can go along with that.”
FBI Agent Jeff Silver wasn't having a good day at all. Something big was going on in Denver. The FBI field office was overwhelmed with ominous events including the poisoning of the Denver City Council, the disappearance of a member of the House of Representatives, and a Colorado State Representative dying of liver failure, probably poisoned. Mix in some car bombings, suspicious fires and other strange events, something big was definitely going on.
The local law enforcement on a good day could barely deal with the ordinary crimes and criminals and had basically turned the whole thing over to the FBI. In relinquishing their responsibility and information, a lot of garbage had been thrown into the mix. Since Jeff was the lead on the case, it was his task to sort through the piles of information in search of a common thread.
Then there were the usual nutcases calling in, trying to be helpful. No one was saying that Elvis was responsible, but Osama bin Laden had been mentioned several times. The media fanning the flames of panic and paranoia made everything that much more difficult.
Spooks and people in power from all over the country were constantly calling, looking for updates. He'd already pissed off several such time-wasting leaches and was just waiting for headquarters in DC to call and rip a flap off his ass for doing it.
Police officers and detectives were also calling, hoping that they could get leads on cold cases or, better yet, dump the whole thing into the lap of the FBI and let them take it off their books.
For this crap, he got $36,000 a year and semi-crummy government benefits. It made him think that he should call up a buddy of his who was working in Iraq and take him up on the job that he had been offered several months ago. Yes, it was more dangerous, but at $17,000 a month, 90 % tax free, he could put up with some occasional danger and not have to deal with all of this. What the hell, he was single, no other real family, and this was getting too old, too quick for his taste, chasing from one crisis to the next. It made it difficult to give a shit about the next potentially world changing event.
An agent with his tie askew, dark five-o'clock shadow and sweat-stained shirt came in and set a folder on his already stuffed desk. It caused a cascade of folders to slide off onto the floor.
As the agent tried to pick up the mess, Jeff said, “What do you have for me?”
“A list of Colorado militias and their members. We're running their names through the databases to see if there are any hits. But computer time is at a premium, so it'll be slow going.”
He flipped open the thick folder. “Can any of these misfits be counted on to do anything with any sophistication? I doubt it. Besides, after the Oklahoma City bombing, we put so many agents into these groups that you are more likely to find a deeply placed undercover agent than someone with the brains to pull off this kind of operation. Anything else?”
The agent handed him a piece of paper. “We ran the surveillance cameras close to where the building was started on fire with thermite. Here's a list of the license plates and the names associated with them.”
Jeff glanced at list. There must have been three hundred names there. Nothing stood out. Registered to a coin store out of Albuquerque, New Mexico. That was where the man found in the trunk of the car had been found. It was a thin and fragile thread, but some days, you just had to run with what stuck out with your guts hoping for a break.
Circling the plate number, he said, “Run the particulars on this plate and anyone from out of state. I want this information ten minutes ago and don't care who the hell you have to kill to make this a priority.
The agent nodded and slipped out of the room.
His phone buzzed. He picked it up and said, “What?” It was a senator from Colorado and what that man had to say didn't improve Jeff's day at all.
Chapter 17
Leo and Jackie, after their tasteless fast food meal, headed back towards Nathan's office. Jackie was amazed that you could have so many calories, plug up your arteries and still be eating cardboard. Naturally, Leo had only eaten a salad without dressing and had bottled water with his meal. How the man could survive on so little solid food was beyond her. He seemed to suck energy and strength from the surroundings. She was going to have to ask him how he could continue to function after all that they had done today — starting just before dawn and it now looking like it was going to be a very late night.
“So, what are we looking for?” she asked, taking a sip of her extra large Coke. She needed the caffeine to keep functioning.
“Anything that links Nathan to Alamut besides something that shows up on a computer. I don't trust them, try and use them as little as possible, and know how easy they can be fiddled with without anyone knowing the difference.”
The way he put it should have insulted her, as she had spent her entire life writing software to ensure the integrity of computer systems. If you couldn't trust the banking system, who could you trust?
“I suppose you don't have a checking account, credit cards, e-mail, PDA, cell phone or anything like that?”
“You’re right. Everything you do that provides any convenience opens a hole into your life. I don't want people to know any more about me than I'm willing to tell them face to face. Let's get back to the matter at hand.”
“Okay. So, you want some paper documentation to the effect that Nathan was directing an assassination company?”
“Yes. More importantly, who’s now running it.”
“I don't think that it's anything Nathan would have written down. The man hated paper and did all he could electronically. Besides, he had an eidetic memory — all he needed to do was read something once and could quote it back at you two years later.”
Leo went quiet for a while. Then he said, “I think we’re just going to have to look anyway, unless you have any other ideas.”
“How about following the money? That was the original plan anyway, wasn't it?”
“Yes. But that was to find out who was the owner of the Alamut Enterprises. We know Nathan owns that. Though it might be a smokescreen, it proves that whoever does own it can cover their tracks quite easily, including bank transactions…”
“That can't be right. There are all sorts of tracks and controls involved in banking. And they are the highest level of security. We've been down this track before — banks have defense in depth, multiple redundant security layers, network sniffers, firewalls. The only real successful attacks on internal bank computers have been from the inside, not the outside.”
“Can we get someone from the outside?”
“I still don't know what information we’re going to get.”
“That's it. We are walking around with bulls-eyes on our backs, and we aren't one inch closer to finding out who has put them there or why. So I'm asking for suggestions. I sure as hell don't want to be killed. All I want to do is find out who’s after us, figure out a way to make them stop and then go back to my old life.”
She thought about everything they’d done and realized that he was right.
“I need access to a computer. Find an Internet Cafe, hopefully one without security cameras.”
“Can't they track you when you’re using their computers?”
She smiled. “They won't be able to because I won't be using their computers, just their wireless network.”