“Hm.” David waited while Alex finished her cocoa. “Think she could be the one following you?”
Alex sighed. “I don’t know, Dave. Why would she? It’s not like I’m a threat to her.”
“Maybe she’s not what she says she is. You know spooks switch sides all the time.”
“I know. Fun and games, man, fun and games.” They grinned at each other. “But I don’t think so, Dave. She’s serious, deadly serious. Her partner died, and she took two bullets because this guy blew their cover. She thinks he was paid for it, and by the same guys that paid to have Dabir killed.”
“Any proof?”
“Well, she did I.D. the shooter as George Mather, former CIA agent, the same man whoscrewed them in eastern Europe.”
“At least we have his name. Did she say who paid him then?”
“No. I don’t think she knows that. But she does know something, I’d bet on it.”
“What about the driver?”
“Mather’s brother-in-law. An agency wannabe. Name’s Darryl Wilford. And by the way, Teren ‘says’ that no prejudice was involved on their part.”
“Bullshit. You and I both know there was.”
“I don’t know, Dave, she made a really convincing case. After all, she knew this guy, and was convinced he killed for money, not ideology. I’m inclined to believe her on that.”
“So now you don’t think these killings were racist?”
“I didn’t say that. I said, I agree that Mather may not have killed out of prejudice. Doesn’t mean that whoever paid him wasn’t a racist son of a bitch.”
David tapped his hand against the steering wheel in frustration. “How does that help us, Alex? I mean, doesn’t that put us back at square one? I mean we know about Brogan’s family ties, and I’m telling you he gave them the car. But how do we tie him to this Mather guy?”
“I don’t know. But I was asking Teren about how he would be paid, and she said it would either be cash or electronic transfer. That reminds me,” Alex reached down to her belt and unclipped her cell-phone. She dialed rapidly, then waited.
“Who’re you calling?”
“Jenny, that friend of mine in Research. She’s a whiz with — Hey, Jen, this is Alex, howya doin’?”
“I’m good, Alex, but busy. And I have a feeling you’re going to make me even busier, right?”
“Could be.”
“Hey, didn’t we do enough for you with that report for Ken? He said it was also for you. Didn’t we do a good enough job?”
“Oh, you guys were great. That was really helpful, and when David and I go back to Philly we’ll be able to really put the screws to Mr. Brogan.”
“If he’s involved in this shit, Alex, I hope you get him, but good.”
“Thanks, Jen. But, you were right, you know. I am going to ask you for something else.”
“Damn. Knew you wouldn’t just call to say thanks.”
“If you can help me out with this, I’ll send you roses and a thank-you card.”
“Oh, don’t do that, my boyfriend will get jealous.”
Alex laughed along with her friend, then became serious again. “Okay, Jen, got a pen and paper?”
“Yeah, go.”
“All right, I need any and all financial records you can find on these two names. First one is Mather, m-a-t-h-e-r, first name George. You might have some trouble getting things on him because he’s confirmed CIA, but try anyway.”
“Okay, and number two?”
“Wilford, w-i-l-f-o-r-d. First name Darryl, d-a-r-r-y-l. Unfortunately, that’s all I know about him, just his name.”
“So, you want background as well as financial?”
“At this point, anything, but especially finances.” Alex bit her lip, and then gave a half-sigh. “Hell, let me give you these other two names as well. I don’t know if you’ll find anything, since they’re CIA as well, but we can try.”
“Great. Don’t suppose you want to tell me why I’m chasing spooks for you?”
“Not really.”
“Didn’t think so. What are the other names?”
“Watson, Perry. Spell it just like it sounds.” She waited a moment. “Mylos, m-y-l-o-s. First name Teren, t-e-r-e-n.”
“Got it. Mather, Wilford, Watson, and Mylos. Good guys, or bad guys?”
“At this point, I’m not so sure I can tell them apart. I’m hoping you can help.”
“I’ll do my best, pal. You still with that cute partner of yours?”
“You mean David?”
“Yeah. Is he still married?”
“Yes.”
“Damn. Well, gotta go. Somebody, who shall remain nameless, just dumped a shitload of work on me.”
“Sorry, pal. Get me something on these guys, and I’ll send over lunch for you and the old gang, all right?”
“Hey, that’ll work! Talk to you later, Alex.”
“Thanks, Jen.”
Alex folded the phone and reclipped it to her belt.
“What was that about me?” David asked.
“Oh, Jen thinks you’re cute.”
“She always had good taste.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you saw her new boyfriend.”
“Bad?”
“I hear he has piercings where no one should have piercings.”
“Ouch.” He waited. “Okay, you want to tell me why you just ordered financial records on someone who’s supposed to be dead?”
“You mean Watson? I don’t know. I mean, I know the guy’s dead, but —” She threw up her hands. “I don’t know, call it a hunch.”
“And this Mylos?”
Alex frowned. “Again, I can’t tell you why. Something in me says I can trust her, but something else says I should be prepared in case she’s not all she seems.”
“And what does she seem to be, Alex?”
She hesitated before answering him. “Cold. Emotionless. Deadly serious.” She stopped and thought about it a little more. “And yet … she also seemed angry, and hurt, and — I don’t know.”
Alex didn’t say anything else, and David didn’t ask anymore questions. It was a quiet ride the rest of the way into Baltimore.
*******************************************************
The store they were looking for was called Whitley’s Fine Clothes For Men. It was located on a busy corner in downtown Baltimore, right next to an office supply store. The mannequins in the window at Whitley’s wore handsome dress shirts with dark jackets, and blank expressions.
Before exiting the car, Alex agreed to let David lead the questioning. She followed him into the store, knowing she was too tired to effectively lead any interrogation. If the answers were a little slow in coming, she would probably lose her temper, and they’d never get the answers they wanted. So, she stayed behind David, hanging back as he approached the salesman that had them in his sights.
“Good morning. What can I do for you today?”
It was way too early for such cheer, and Alex wanted to tell the younger man to shove his head up his own tailpipe. Instead she held her tongue, and listened as David asked to speak to the manager.
The manager, Mr. Clymes, was even shorter than Alex, and thin. He greeted them politely, and offered his services.
“Mr. Clymes,” David said as he showed his badge, “could we talk in your office? It’s important.”
“Oh, well,” the small man smiled nervously, and glanced at Alex, who was also holding up her badge. “I suppose that would be best. This way.”
He led them behind a curtain, and through what was obviously a store room, stopping at his office door. “I’m afraid I only have two chairs in the office, Agent — Wu, was it?”
“Yes, and two chairs will be fine.” David motioned at the door, and Mr. Clymes opened it. It was small, but neat, and the smaller man took the chair in front of his computer, while David sat in the smaller seat next to the desk. Alex stood in the doorway, watching the scene in the office, and keeping a covert eye on the other employees present.
“Now, what can I help you with?”
“Mr. Clymes, I believe you carry a line of clothes by a company called Kittredge.”
“Kittredge. Hm.” Clymes leaned back in his executive chair and tapped his chin with his left index finger. “I don’t know the name offhand, Agent Wu. Is that the manufacturer, or the line of clothes?”