Daeng crouched next to the door, opened it, and quickly slipped his gift under the driver’s seat.
Seconds later, he was back in the trees, moving south toward the main road.
The first thing Griffin did when he climbed back into this car was call Dima.
After giving him the location of the cabin, he said, “Find out every vehicle the owner has. If he has family, find out what cars they have, too. Then check and see if any of them were left here.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Dima said.
“Find out and call me back.”
He disconnected the call, tossed his phone on the passenger seat, and considered his next move. He could stop at the café he’d seen in Trevor Hollow and wait until Dima called back, but even then there was no guarantee they’d know where the others had gone.
No, staying around here was a waste of time. Best to head back to DC. Morten was due in later that evening anyway, and would want a briefing.
Griffin started the engine, and drove all the way to the cabin so he could turn around before heading for the main road.
Daeng watched from his hiding place at the end of the access road as the Lexus made the turn back toward the interstate.
He tapped SEND on his phone. When the call connected, he said, “He just left.”
“Good,” Quinn said.
CHAPTER 32
Griffin had expected Dima to call already, but here he was, nearly back in DC, and no word from the useless stooge.
While he knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up to Howard and his friends, in the interim Griffin would have to report his short-term failure to Morten. That would not go over well.
He had just taken the Rosslyn/Key Bridge exit when the phone rang.
His first thought was, Finally. His second was, That’s not my normal ringtone.
Even odder, it wasn’t coming from the seat next to him, where his cell sat. The sound was muffled and…under him.
Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached under his seat and searched for the source of the ring. As the tone stopped, his hand encircled the familiar shape of a phone, and pulled it out.
How the hell did it get into his car?
As he contemplated the question, it rang again. The display read: UNKNOWN. He debated for only a second before answering. “Yes?”
“Mr. Griffin, how’s the drive?”
There was a small empty parking lot ahead on the right. Griffin pulled into it and stopped. “Who is this?”
“From what I understand, I’m someone you want to talk to.”
The tension that had engulfed Griffin moments before suddenly disappeared. Maybe his report to Morten wouldn’t be as gloomy as he’d thought.
“Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Howard? Or are you the other one?”
The silence was short, but unmistakable. Griffin had scored a point. “Call me Steve,” the man said.
“I’m glad to see that you’ve recovered from the accident, Steve.” No response on the other end. Another point scored. “What is it I can do for you?”
“You can tell me why you’re so interested in me and my friends.”
“I would be happy to. Perhaps we can meet somewhere and discuss it.”
The man laughed. “Right. That’s not going to happen. I’m not a fool.”
“If you’re not a fool, then you must know why I’d like to talk to you,” Griffin said, hoping to find out if Howard was even worth worrying about.
“It obviously has something to do with the apartment in Georgetown. Peter’s apartment.”
“Obviously.”
“Specifically, I would say it has something to do with two things.”
Here was the potential prize. “And what would those two things be?”
“You’d like me to tell you, wouldn’t you? I’ll say this much. One has to do with a tiny island in the Caribbean, and one with a leisurely mountain drive in Turkey. Does that help?” Before Griffin could come up with a response, the man said, “I’ll call again.”
Griffin continued to hold the phone against his ear after the line had gone dead.
A tiny island in the Caribbean. A leisurely mountain drive in Turkey.
They knew. Not only about Miranda Keyes, but also about the connection to Romero.
It was the worst-case scenario, and if he didn’t clamp down on it now, he’d never be able to control it.
He had to restrain himself from throwing the phone on the floor. He needed it, needed Howard to call him back. He set it on the passenger seat next to his own cell, and put the car in Drive.
There were things he needed to do before the phone rang again.
Quinn walked back across the room to where Nate, Orlando, and Liz had listened in on the call over Orlando’s computer.
“I’d say that was a direct hit on Miranda Keyes and Peter,” Nate said.
“Absolutely,” Quinn agreed. Griffin had known exactly what Quinn was talking about, which meant there was no question now that the man and the people he worked for were involved in both deaths.
These were the people Peter had been hunting. These were the people Quinn wanted.
“He knew Steve’s name,” Liz said. “He knew about the accident. How could he?”
“The photos taken in front of Peter’s place,” Orlando said.
Quinn nodded. “He must have gotten his hands on them and somehow ID’d Steve that way.”
“I thought Helen Cho had shut down contact between her agency and Griffin,” Orlando said.
“That’s what she told me.” He lifted his phone and tapped the director’s number. As soon as he had Helen on the other end, he said, “Either you lied to me, or you have a leak.”
Director Cho ordered an immediate lockdown of O & O. Cell phones were confiscated, and all nonessential communications were forbidden.
Computer techs began looking through logs that tracked not only landline calls but all cell-phone activity within the facility, searching for the specific unusual activity outlined by Director Cho.
It took only eight minutes to identify a potential suspect, and another three minutes to comb through his personal cell-phone records to confirm that more suspicious calls had occurred when he was away from the building.
When the security detail entered the suspect’s office, Michael Dima — the current Central — looked up from his computer screen in surprise. “Excuse me, but you’re not allowed in here.”
Clyde Witten, head of the detail, took a step forward. “Sir, you will come with us.”
“I will do no such thing. I’m Central. I can’t leave my desk.”
“Relief is on the way, sir. You will come with us.”
Dima made a great show of being outraged as he reached for his phone. “This is ridiculous. I’m calling Director Stone right now.”
Witten stepped forward, yanked the phone out of Dima’s hand, and put it back in its cradle. “You will come with us.”
He grabbed Dima by the arm and pushed him firmly toward the door.
“What’s this all about? You can’t do this! I want to talk to Director Stone.”
“I’ve been told that Director Stone is no longer with O & O,” Witten said. He’d received word of Stone’s “early retirement” straight from Direct Cho when she gave him his current orders.
“What?” Dima said. “Then…then, I, uh, I want to talk to who’s in charge.”