Agent X - Boyd Noah (серии книг читать бесплатно .TXT) 📗
The first stop was a Middle Eastern travel agency. Sundra’s file did not document why she was investigating them, but once Vail and Bursaw started interviewing the owner, they discovered that he had a large marijuana-growing operation in the building’s basement. They decided that someone had flagged the premises based on the inexplicable electrical consumption caused by the massive lighting system used.
The next one turned out to be an identification mill operated out of a residence. The individual in charge of the operation provided forged driver’s licenses and car titles for a hundred dollars apiece. He had been arrested years before and received probation. When he told the two agents that his lawyer said he would probably be continued on probation if caught, Vail and Bursaw felt satisfied that he had nothing to gain from Sundra Boston’s disappearance.
“Two down, three to go,” Vail said as they got back into the car. “Lucas Bursaw, tell us who our next contestant is?” Before Bursaw could answer, Vail’s cell phone rang. It was Kalix. Vail listened for a few seconds. “Okay, we’ll meet you there.”
Bursaw said, “What’s up?”
“We’re going to have to put this on hold. John has that list of CIA employees.”
22
When they got to the off-site, John Kalix was parked outside waiting for them. They went upstairs, and Kalix handed Vail the list of names, along with their photos.
“Names and photos—you must have something on this guy.”
“Actually, I do. Like I said, he and I went all the way back to law school. We were pretty close. We were out one night having a few cocktails, and he spotted a source of his in the bar. I guess he thought I’d be impressed, so he introduced me to the guy. The source was horrified that someone would see us, and he tried to leave. My friend caught him outside and started slapping him around. The asset made a stink, and I wound up lying about it to a couple of their internal grunts. He was absolved, and now he’s paying the bill.”
Vail made a quick count. “Nine. That’s not bad. Have you run the names through indices?”
“Personally searched them myself. Nothing.”
“We have one advantage right now—surprise. If we confronted them, we’d lose that. Besides, from the moment these people decide to start spying, they’re constantly rehearsing their answers to any questions about their loyalty. Anybody have any ideas?”
Kalix and Bursaw both shook their heads.
“Sorry, boys, there appears only one thing we can do,” Vail said. “We’ve got to show the photos to Kate.”
“How are you going to do that?” Kalix asked. “They won’t let anyone from the Bureau near her.”
“John, this is where we separate the temporary help from the truly self-destructive.”
Kalix laughed. “Talk about making something sound irresistible.”
“Come on, how many FBI agents can say they helped a federal prisoner escape?”
“If you mean without becoming a federal prisoner themselves, I’m going to guess zero.”
Alfred Bevson, the United States Attorney for the District of Columbia, sat at his desk rereading a newspaper article regarding a shooting in Annandale the day before. The facts seemed deliberately vague, and that, coupled with the participants’ being two unnamed FBI agents and two suspected East European illegal immigrants, made him wonder if it had something to do with the Kate Bannon case. His secretary buzzed him. “Yes.”
“There’s an attorney by the name of Karl Brickman on the line. He insists on talking to you.”
“Just tell him I’m in a meeting and I’ll call him back.”
“He said he was representing Kate Bannon.”
“What?” Bevson swore under his breath. The FBI must have leaked her detention. “Okay, Claire, put him through.”
Bevson knew that the Bureau was upset with him for cutting off their access to her, but by his own admission their director was too close to her to let the FBI stay actively involved. The last thing Bevson needed right now was more bad press. They’d been all over him recently on the issue of the escalating crime rate in the District, and there were rumors that the present administration was about to replace him because of it. The Bannon case was supposed to sweep all that into obscurity, and it probably would once its depth was reported to the world.
If they fired him anyway, the important thing was having a soft place to land. If he could publicly manipulate his role in this treason case against an FBI higher-up, the big firms would be calling. Washington loved a good spy story, and there were firms that would hire him for no other reason than to hear the insider gossip. But all that would be diluted if the FBI was going to leak every detail of the case, as they usually did when it was to their advantage. For once he was going to beat them to the punch. But first he would have to put out another one of their well-placed brush fires. “This is Al Bevson, can I help you?”
“Karl Brickman. I see from your online bio that you went to Georgetown Law, so I know you were taught the concept of due process. Apparently you think there’s some exception to the rule when it’s an FBI agent who’s been charged.”
“I’m sorry, who is your client again?”
“You want to know who my client is? Put on the six o’clock news tonight and you’ll find out. It won’t matter which network—they’ll all be carrying it.”
“You told my secretary it’s a Kate Bannon.”
“And you’ve had her in custody for three days without taking her before a judge or a magistrate. In civilized countries that’s called an abduction.”
“Mr. Brickman, if we were holding someone as you have suggested and you went to the media, be advised you could be violating national security.”
“If you consider what you’ve done to Kate Bannon as being in the best interests of national security, then it needs to be violated.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about the case.”
“Apparently there’s a lot you don’t know about prosecutorial malfeasance. I’ve already contacted the assistant director at the FBI who has jurisdiction over this case, William Langston, and given him the same option I’m about to give you. If I don’t meet with my client within three hours, in three hours and one minute I start making calls to the media.”
The door opened, and Bevson’s secretary came in and handed him a note.
Assistant Director Langston, line 3. Urgent!
“Mr. Brickman, can I call you back?”
“No, you can’t. In exactly three hours, I’ll be at the FBI building. If I’m not immediately taken to see my client, you know where I’ll be going next.” The line went dead.
Bevson punched the line-three button. “Al Bevson.”
“Bill Langston. I’m the Counterterrorism AD. Did you get a call from a lawyer named Brickman?”
“That’s who I was on the phone with. Who is he?”
“I made a couple of calls after he threatened me. His practice is primarily criminal. A one-man firm, and he is not a media hound. I guess that’s why I’ve never heard of him, but the word is he’s the last guy you want to have coming at you.”
“How the hell did he find out about Bannon?”
“I was going to ask you. You’re the one who won’t let us near her, remember?”
Bevson said, “Someone might think a call to a lawyer would be a good way to get even with us for that.”
“It’s just as likely that someone from your side did it. You’re the one with all the lawyers. Maybe you should ask around and find out if any of your people know him personally.”
Bevson knew that was true. These days, “leaking” was an act of self-indulgence. “It’s out there now, so it doesn’t matter. What do you think we should do about it?”
“This cannot get to the media. Until we can secure some cooperation from Bannon or we can be sure no one else is involved, we’ve got to keep this buttoned up. Every time there’s the least hint of someone’s being identified, that person is murdered, and each time it’s arranged so it looks like the Bureau had a hand in it. How about this: Have a couple of marshals bring her over with one of your assistant prosecutors, and we’ll give her the full-court press one more time before Brickman shows up. He told me he was coming over at three o’clock. In fact, how soon can you get her here?”
