“Shit. Did we miss something?”
“You could say that. The mystery cell phone from the FBI site came online last night.”
Simpson shook his head in disbelief, and Turner mirrored his response.
“Yeah, tell me about it. They traced it to a place just down the road.”
“You’re kidding.”
Simpson gave him a hard look. “We’re like a couple of damn amateurs these days.”
Addy Simpson sat in silence for a moment and then explained that just after Turner had fallen asleep last night, he had placed a call to Matilde Soller. The conversation had a painful but expected outcome, the sort of emotion that can only be conjured up when delivering bad news to a loved one. He explained that he had left out the details of what they had found at the house in Poolesville, telling his friend that he was afraid that would have been too much for her broken heart to take.
Turner and Simpson both had been up against worse odds through the years, and neither man was about to give up now. Jack Turner sensed a mixture of guilt, anger, and pain, and knew that being sloppy and missing the crucial communication had hit Simpson hard. It may well have been too late for young Maria Soller, but they needed to do what a good soldier did best: compartmentalize the emotion and focus on the job at hand.
“You know you’re right,” Simpson said.
Turner raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“I’m too close to this…to the point where I’m making mistakes.”
“Yeah, well, it happens—”
“Let’s not sugarcoat it, Jack. I could very well have gotten you killed last night.”
“But you didn’t.”
Simpson shook his head. “Now we’ve missed out on a lead that could have broken this wide open.” He continued to shake his head, this time it was with guilt. “And maybe even led us to Maria,” he said, the sadness evident in his voice.
“Look, we don’t have many options right now,” Jack Turner said as he sat down in one of the chairs. “We’re doing the best that we can. Most of our guys are out of the country. It’s not like we have an army of operatives. Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help matters,” he said flatly.
“Have you spoken to Trent?” Simpson asked, and noted the surprise on Jack’s face. “What I mean is, can you get in touch with him?”
Turner was clearly uncomfortable.
“Okay, look,” Simpson said, “don’t even answer that. If you can get in touch with him somehow, do it. We need him.”
Turner furrowed his brow but remained silent.
“If I’ve learned anything since yesterday, it’s how I would react to a situation similar to what happened with him and Ryan.” Addy locked eyes with his friend and hid nothing behind them. “I get it. I could have handled things better. I could have been more supportive, understanding. I’m the one who signed up for the risk, despite the good doctor’s recommendation not to bring a twin into the program. And you’re right.” His expression darkened. He bowed his head in thought for a moment before returning to his friend. “Feeling sorry for myself is stupid, I should know better than that.”
They were the leaders of one of the most formidable paramilitary teams in the world. As much as the training served to prepare them for the horrors this world had to offer, at the end of the day they were all still human.
“I’ll see what I can do about Trent,” Turner said. “Now let’s get over to that site and see if we can find anything.”
Chapter 77
Frank Culder had slept very little. His eye was on the prize, and the thrill of a power grab provided enough of a buzz to top off his energy levels. Normally he wouldn’t come into the office on a Sunday morning, but he had some loose ends to tie up before taking a trip to Chicago. His men had spent the night in the bureau’s private hangar at Frederick Municipal Airport and were planning to pick up the director at Reagan National with the jet when he was ready.
His technology lab had delivered the expected news. The hard drive in the computer taken from Maximillian Soller II’s car was useless; the techs weren’t able to retrieve any data. The lab also confirmed that the other device the forensics team retrieved from the scene had been assembled by Francis Millar. His fingerprints were found on the inside of the system’s chassis. They explained that the device was used to find wireless networks. The system would automatically connect to open wireless networks and scan for vulnerable computers. It was also programmed to exploit known hacks into any secure wireless networks it encountered.
Culder’s patience was growing thin as he waited for a call. When his cell phone finally did come to life, he didn’t recognize the caller.
“Culder,” he answered.
“Director Culder, this is Bart Stapleton calling.”
He recognized the name but couldn’t connect a face or title. “Bart Stapleton?”
“Yes. That’s right. Senator Soller said I should give you a call. He told me you might be able to help me out with a little problem.”
Culder considered how much easier life would be once Soller stopped cashing favors in all the time. He still wasn’t sure who the caller was, so he pulled a browser up on his computer and searched for the name. He was surprised.
“Sure, Mr. Chairman. What can I do to help?”
“Please, call me Bart.”
“Okay. What can I do to help, Bart?”
“To be blunt, I want you to help me crucify someone.”
The director was put off by the comment, until his eyes drifted to the requisite portrait of President Vincent Cross that was hung on his office wall. He smiled. “I see.”
“Rumor has it there’s a particular Island he enjoys. A place that makes the legendary Alcatraz look tame. If the public were to get wind that he’s connected to a group of hoodlums, I think our friends in the media could do something with that.”
There was history between Cross and Culder, and it wasn’t pretty. The president had become aware of an attempt by the FBI director to pry into his private life. The action was done at Senator Soller’s request and, in so many words, the president reminded Culder that J. Edgar Hoover was long dead, and that it wouldn’t be wise to try to follow in his footsteps.
The director was amazed at the president’s reach. He still hadn’t figured out who the mole at the bureau was, but it was only a matter of time before he did. Cross was a man he would happily bring down, given the chance. His thoughts returned to the call he was expecting, and he decided he would take advantage of the opportunity.
“You know, I think there might be a little birdie on that Island that will sing for us.”
“Splendid,” Stapleton said. “I have an important meeting, but I will get back to you directly. If that birdie needs a little incentive to make its music, that is something that can be arranged.”
Culder smiled. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Chapter 78
The hope that filled her eyes the previous evening had been extinguished. It all started when she connected with a kindred spirit. He had introduced himself as Tony Kalem. He was rugged, mysterious, and Victoria Eden sensed the danger, along with their mutual attraction. He was as suave as he was hard to get, and what began with turbulence on a personal level eventually escalated to something physical once the plane landed.