“Why?”
“Jascinski was there at the scene. He made the calls to 797th EOD and undoubtedly could easily find out or would already know their route and timetable.”
“Right.”
“He’s also had military demolition training, the best in the world.”
“Obviously.”
“One of the things they taught us in post-blast analysis is that when the job is perfect, when there is no explosive residue as evidence…”
“You’ve got a military trained guy.”
“Exactly. And he’s gotta be a Green Beret, or a SEAL, or most likely an EOD Tech since they work with explosives all the time.”
“Those guys are very particular about that stuff.”
“Precisely.”
“Did you get any reaction from that ruse, about the job being shoddy?”
“No.”
“Hmmm.”
Elena continued, “Finally, Jascinski’s motivation is that he is involved with this group. He probably has been siphoning off explosives to these guys and may even be assisting in the construction of the IEDs. I believe there was something about these explosives… maybe something as simple as a fingerprint that would point us to Jascinski. He’d have to destroy them so we couldn’t trace them to him.”
Thompson sipped his coffee, squinting again. The two sat in silence for another moment.
Finally Cameron said, “Okay… now you’ve got my attention. Continue.”
Elena felt like she just won a small moral victory.
“Okay, again, the only two people at my scene that fit the description as far as I know are Jascinski and Ball. Now we got Jascinski at the scene of an attack on Secretary Koss.”
“Okay, good point. Convince me it simply is not a coincidence.”
Now it was becoming as a chess match.
“Let me walk you through a scenario. Jascinski is providing explosives to these bad guys. We already know that the stuff was military. He arrives on scene and realizes that the game is up; he is going to get caught. So he needs to get rid of the demo. How does he do that? Jascinski has an accomplice damage the vehicle tire somehow. He comes to the rescue, certainly in uniform, maybe even with another EOD truck. Three rounds to the back of the head, blow the truck up and make off with the rest of the stuff. I’ve begun with a cursory look into his background. Guess who else has had some demo training?”
“Who?”
“Dear old Dad. Jascinski’s father is a retired admiral who started training for UDT back in the sixties. He washed out after receiving demolition training.”
“You’re shitting me? Okay, I’m beginning to see. You think this is like the kid who went through EOD school a few years ago? Remember they caught him right as he was in the demo phase.”
“Exactly… so maybe we got us a family of white supremacists or something. So I’ve called around about this guy… the admiral. Fits the profile depending on whom you talk to. Some refer to him as old school Navy, a very tough, stern son of a bitch. Others say he is on the far right.”
“‘Old school’ or ‘on the far right,’ huh? To many they are the same thing.”
“I’m sure.”
Thompson leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on his desk. He stained his teeth with more Bureau coffee.
“Okay, Elena, now I play devil’s advocate. Your argument is weak. First, if Jascinski were smart enough to pull this off without a hitch, he’d be smart enough to hand over the C-4 without it being linked to him. Second if he is just worried about the evidence why not destroy all the C-4? Make it really look like an accident. Why did he save some?
“The father? Phooey. So what, Dad tried to be UDT. His son follows in his footsteps and does him one better. Take all that away and realize that young Jascinski’s response will be that he was assigned to escort SECSTATE. It is not as if he walked up to the Secret Service and said, ‘Hey guys. Can I help?’”
“And therein lays the beauty of it,” Elena responded. “Look at it from the other angle. As an EOD Tech he knew that he’d eventually get detailed on a job with a dignitary. It doesn’t matter which one. His goal was not to take out SECSTATE, his goal was to get a high ranking government official.”
“In which case, he’ll never do this again. A second time would be too much of a coincidence to not consider him a suspect.”
“Or he’ll do it one more time and skedaddle in the ensuing mayhem.”
“Elena, you are either brilliant or a complete conspiracy nut.”
“I’ll be honest, Cam, I’m desperate for something on this one.”
“Okay, write up a formal report to propose how we proceed. I’ll consider it. I still need some convincing that this is not circumstantial.”
“I’ve already started it. You’ll have it on your desk tomorrow.”
“Fine, Elena. Before you go, I want to make one thing clear.”
“What?”
Thompson sat back up and placed his cup on the desk. His voice became more serious.
“If you fucking screw this up, I’ll kill you. Got it?”
“I got it.”
“I’m serious. I’ve got ten acres, a shotgun, and a shovel.”
“Boss, you know what you get when you add up three coincidences?”
“What?”
“Evidence.”
TWENTY-NINE
The parade of secretaries and receptionists down 23rd Street on their way to and from lunch distracted Sergeant Thomas Donohue. Most wore conservative blouses and suit jackets, but the legs were all bare. He loved the legs.
From the back seat came a growl. Donohue looked in the rearview mirror. His Dutch Shepard was also eyeing the ladies.
“Easy, Guinness. Steady, boy.”
Donohue turned his cruiser left onto Jefferson Davis Highway, heading back into the jurisdiction of the Defensive Protective Service.
Donohue worked at the Pentagon first as an Air Force Security Police Officer. DPS recruited him while he was there and he joined them a year after leaving the military. Donohue completed the perfunctory rookie year as a patrolman followed by two years on the elite Emergency Response Team. Since that time Thomas Donohue was a K-9 handler. His dog, Guinness, was a triple threat. The animal was an attack dog as well as a bomb and drug sniffer.
The speed limit was fifty-five miles per hour. Gabriel ensured that he was not a mile over the limit. He had a video camera propped on a camera bag in the passenger seat of his sedan. It was aimed out the window, the power was on, and it was recording.
It was his first reconnaissance of the area. Gabriel thought the camera would appear innocent enough.
After all, he thought, it’s not like owning a video camera is illegal.
He noticed an apartment building on a hill to his left.
I could get a room in there and set up a nice observation post.
Gabriel decided to look into that.
It happened about four times a year. Donohue was visited by his police sense. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. It was the silver sedan; something was not right about it. Donohue pulled in behind it and began to observe it more closely.
“Come on, bud, drive into my parking lot,” Donohue said out loud.
In the rear view mirror he saw Guinness through the screen between the front and back seats. The pooch was now looking over his shoulder at the grey sedan. He had the same instincts as his handler. He growled again.