Against All Enemies (33 page)

12:07
A.M.
, Tuesday, July 20,
Aspen, Colo.

The phone call from Agnes came just after midnight. As Durant was still awake, Rios put the call through. “Hello, Nelson,” Agnes said. Her voice had a soft, sultry quality Durant had never heard before. “I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but I just had to talk. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling very good, thank you. The quacks think I just might make it.” He gave Rios a quizzical look and motioned for him to pick up the extension and record the conversation.

“You do have an amazing constitution. But I hope you are still going to have bypass surgery.”

“As soon as possible,” he answered.

“I was wondering when we, ah, might talk,” Agnes said.

“What’s wrong with now?” He almost mentioned they were on a secure line but thought better of it.

“Oh, it’s just that I hate talking over a phone. It’s so impersonal, don’t you think?”

Rios made a cutting motion to hang up and mouthed
bug
. “I’ll see you soon,” Durant said. Instinctively, he created a cover story for the phone call. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Agnes replied. The line went dead.

“What do you think?” Durant asked.

“The line is tapped,” Rios said, “and she wants to see you immediately.”

“Who the hell has the capability to break into our system?”

“I think that’s what Agnes wants to tell you.”

“Call the pilots and tell them to meet us at the Hawker.”

“Boss, you got to take it easy,” Rios warned.

Reluctantly, Durant agreed with him. “First thing in the morning.”

8:50
A.M.
, Tuesday, July 20,
Warrensburg, Mo.

The police chief escorted Toni and Sutherland into the back office at Bare Essence. “The FBI has finished,” he told them. “Except for the bodies, everything is pretty much like we found it.” Toni walked around, a grim look on her face. An FBI technical team had carefully gone over the room for evidence and she knew anything of value had been found. Still, she wanted to examine the scene of the double murder herself.

“Did you find the murder weapon?” she asked.

“Yeah,” the chief replied. “A nine-millimeter Sig Sauer. We also found a slug in the wall, probably from the same weapon.”

Toni pulled into herself, trying to remember all that Harry had taught her about the criminal mind, the way a criminal thought, the tricks he played, his screwed up view of reality. “It was probably Harry’s Sig Sauer,” she said. “The OSI has the number.”

The chief spoke in a gentle voice. “The fingerprints haven’t come back yet. We need a positive ID.”

Toni nodded and followed him outside. She rode in silence with Sutherland as they drove to the morgue in the basement of the courthouse in the center of Warrensburg. Like most government buildings in that part of Missouri, it was constructed of gray sandstone and had a look of permanent elegance. Sutherland drove around to the back and parked. They walked down the ramp to the double doors where the coroner was waiting for them. “The chief said you were coming,” he said, leading them into the morgue. “I must warn you, it’s pretty gruesome. The girl is much worse than the man.”

They stepped into the holding room and waited as an assistant pulled the first body out of the cold storage locker. It reminded Sutherland of the standard scene in a movie or TV crime thriller. Unfortunately, this scene was all too real. The assistant carefully unzipped the body bag and Sutherland stared at the face of Harry Waldon. Fortunately, a towel covered the back of his head and they could not see where the bullet had exited the skull. “He took it in the mouth,” the coroner said.

Toni nodded. “It’s Special Agent Harry Waldon.” The assistant closed the body bag and shoved it back into the storage locker. He briskly pulled out the second body, unzipped the bag but did not pull it open.

“This is bad,” the coroner warned. He gently moved the bag aside. Sutherland gasped. He had seen photographs of cadavers as a deputy D.A. but this was shocking, far beyond anything he had experienced. This was real. He felt dizzy and tasted the bile rising in his throat. “She was shot in the occiput,” the coroner explained, using the precise term for the back of the skull. It was his way of handling the horror in front of him. “The bullet was aimed on an upward trajectory so it would exit the forehead. Preliminary examination indicates it was a dum-dum bullet. Whoever shot her meant to blow her face away. I’ll know better after the formal autopsy.”

“I can’t positively identify her,” Toni said. She turned and walked from the room as Sutherland passed out.

“Damn,” Sutherland muttered, wincing at the smell. The coroner was bent over him, waving smelling salts under his nose. Sutherland pushed the coroner’s hand away.

“You’re not the first,” he said, helping Sutherland to his feet.

Sutherland shook his head. The gurney with Andrea Hall’s body was gone and Toni was standing in the doorway, looking worried. They walked into the outer office and the heavy door slammed behind them. “Is there anything I need to sign?” Toni asked. The coroner handed her a statement of identification, which she started to fill out. “Have you reached any tentative conclusions?”

“Judging by the woman’s wound,” the coroner answered, “I’d say there was a lot of anger. Everything I’m seeing is consistent with a murder-suicide. He killed her in a murderous rage and then shot himself.”

Toni fell silent as a consuming anger mushroomed into pure fury. It burned as it swept over her. The coroner knew Harry was an OSI agent on a special assignment, yet he was sold on his murder-suicide theory. She knew how the government worked and the bodies would be turned over to the federal authorities. But there was nothing secretive or conspiratorial about what happened next. It was a bureaucratic process where each higher level reviewed the work that had started in the coroner’s office and his initial conclusions would be rubber-stamped as Harry and Andrea were processed through the system. “No,” she finally said. “No way.”

“You probably think we’re just a bunch of hicks out here,” the coroner said. “We’re not. The evidence here points to a murder-suicide.”

“I’m telling you,” Toni growled, “it was not suicide.”

“A reason would be helpful,” the coroner said.

“I can think of a few,” Toni shot back. She had to get the coroner’s investigation on the right track. “Harry wouldn’t have used a dum-dum. Never.” The coroner looked skeptical, not convinced.

“We found powder traces on his right hand,” the corner replied. “Honey, we’re dealin’ with a pretty much open and shut case here.”

Toni’s anger flared. She had to jump start his brain. “That may not be Andrea Hall in there.”

“Then who is it?” This from Sutherland.

“Sandi Jefferson.”

Sutherland reached for the phone and dialed his office, his eyes fixed on the coroner as he spoke to Linda. He listened for a moment. “You’ve seen her yourself? Ten minutes ago in the ADC’s office. Good. That solves a problem.” He hung up and took a deep breath. “Our secretary saw Sandi Jefferson ten minutes ago. That answers that particular question.”

The coroner frowned at Toni and shook his head. “We’ll get a positive ID on her.”

“Do that,” Toni snapped. “And while you’re at it, find out what really happened.” She spun around and marched out of the office.

She’s irrational
, Sutherland thought. He thanked the coroner and followed Toni outside. She was striding resolutely toward his car. “Toni, hold on.” She spun around and glared at him. “He’s just doing his job. Cut him some slack.”

“He swallowed it, hook, line, sinker, pole, reel, the whole goddamn tackle box.” She was furious. “No way that’s a murder-suicide. It was meant to look like one and he bit.”

“He’s doing his job, Toni,” Sutherland repeated.

She raged at him. “I heard you the first time. He didn’t know Harry! I did!”

Two pedestrians stopped to stare at them. Sutherland tried to calm her down. “Who do you think it is in there?”

“It’s probably Andrea.”

“Then why did you say it was Sandi?” She didn’t answer. “What if he’s right?” He took a step back. He had never seen another human so angry, so full of emotion. She breathed deeply through her nose, her nostrils flaring, her head back. The fingers on her right hand folded into a karate fist. For a moment, he was afraid she would hit him. Slowly, she forced herself to breathe normally. She waited until she had command of her voice.

“He’s wrong, dead wrong. You can take that to the bank and make tortillas out of it.” The look on her face, the steel in her voice, and her rigid right hand kept Sutherland from snorting at her improbable metaphor. She climbed into the car and slammed the door shut. They drove in silence toward the base. Sutherland could sense the anger building in Toni and before they reached the edge of town, she exploded. “That asshole! That fucking asshole of a coroner!”

“Toni, he’s just doing his job.”

Her left foot flashed across the floor, kicked his foot off the accelerator, and mashed the brake, slamming them to an abrupt halt and stalling the car. A pickup truck almost rear-ended them. The driver laid on his horn and Toni gave him the finger. “Shove it up your ass!” she shouted. The truck honked and the driver got out and ran up to Sutherland’s side of the car. He flooded the air with obscenities and reached in, grabbing Sutherland by the collar. Toni jerked her Sig Sauer out of her handbag, pulled the slide back, and chambered a round. “You’re making a big mistake,” she said, aiming at his forehead, “asshole.”

“I’m sorry, lady,” the man blurted out. “I didn’t mean no harm. I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”

“Walk back to your truck,” Toni ordered, “and drive away.” He jerked his head once and walked quickly back to his pickup. He couldn’t get in or drive away fast enough.

“For Christ’s sake, Toni! Get a grip.”

Toni grabbed Sutherland’s jaw and jerked his face around, almost touching hers. Her touch was hot, a perfect reflection of what he saw in her eyes. “Harry was my mentor. You don’t know what that means. He was a good man. Damn, Hank, he did good, so good. And it was my idea to bring Andrea in. Maybe if I had been there—damn, maybe—”

“Give it some time, Toni.” Sutherland’s voice was full of compassion. It was the same feeling of guilt he had carried after the San Francisco bombing. He started the car and drove on.

“I told the coroner it was Sandi to jump-start his brain and get him to think, not to take the easy way out, not to close his report until he’s checked out every detail. Harry taught me that. If that asshole does his job, he’ll learn that Harry fired left-handed. He said the powder traces were on the right hand. And the third bullet in the wall—the killer fired the weapon from Harry’s right hand after he was dead to make it look like a murder-suicide.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him that?”

“Because I’m a Chiquita and Chiquitas are bimbos. He has to discover it for himself and men he’ll believe it.”

“What are you going to do now?” Sutherland asked.

Toni’s anger was back, but not quite as intense. “I’m going to blow his shit away.”

“The coroner?”

“Ramar.”

11:00
A.M.
, Tuesday, July 20,
The Farm, Western Virginia

Durant and Rios sat down in front of the monitors while two of the whiz kids hovered in the background. “Good morning, Mr. Durant,” Agnes said. The image smiled at him. “That was quick thinking, acting like lovers. I read it in a book by what’s-his-name, the lawyer.”

“Agnes,” Durant said, “you know damn good and well what his name is. Stop playing games.”

“Aren’t you having fun?” she asked.

Durant couldn’t help himself and laughed. “As a matter of fact, I am. But I’m worried. We’ve got the most secure communications system in the world and you gave us the impression someone was monitoring our call. Do you know who it might be?” No answer from Agnes. “Was it the CIA or FBI?”

The image hung her head. “I’m very worried and wanted to see you in person.”

“So no one was monitoring Mr. Durant’s line,” one of the whiz kids concluded. Agnes nodded and the two scientists looked at each other. Agnes was playing devious games to get her way.

“There was no real reason for you to call me, was there?”

“There was,” Agnes replied. “I found out why your messages are not getting through to Mr. Kamigami. The CIA stopped forwarding them to the Sudan.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I’ve monitored all the message traffic from Langley to the Sudan and they only transmitted your first message. After that, they stopped.”

“Maybe they sent them by diplomatic pouch,” Rios said.

“That’s what I thought until the chief of station in Khartoum cabled for instructions on what to do about the intelligence Mr. Kamigami is providing. The CIA told him to wait for further instructions.”

“It sounds like the CIA is playing CIA games,” Rios said.

“Why would they do that?” Agnes asked.

“It’s a battle over turf,” Durant said. “As far as they’re concerned, I have no business in their area of operations. So they’re doing what any good bureaucrat does when faced with something new—nothing.” He thought for a moment. “Agnes, have you broken all of the CIA’s codes?” The image nodded. “Can you bypass Langley and send a message directly to the Sudan? I want to cut Langley completely out of the loop.”

Agnes started talking about the weather as she worked the problem. Then, “Oh, that’s interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” Durant asked.

“Nothing. Oh, here we go. I have established contact with the CIA chief of station in the Sudan and directed him to address all communications concerning Mr. Kamigami or the pilots to me.” The image smiled. “I told him I’m a special assistant to the DCI handling the account.”

“Tell him to file an update,” Durant said. He stood up to leave. “Thank you, Agnes.” The image beamed as he walked out, Rios and the two whiz kids in tow.