Firewall (17 page)

8:10 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Grayson shoved aside his concern for Taryn. He couldn’t drive to Denny’s
 
—other agents were handling it. But he wanted to be there. Instead he had to focus on the new information
 
—the background check on Aaron Bradshaw. This guy was the motivation behind Vince’s twist of allegiance.

Problem number one: Aaron Bradshaw could not hold down a job because of the severity of his diabetes. Other health complications came into play
 
—obesity and poor circulation in his feet that often crippled him. But the most severe issue was his heart. He needed a transplant, an expensive medical procedure for a man who depended on the government and his dad to take care of rising medical costs.

Problem number two: Aaron liked to gamble, and his disability check could never pay off the figures in the report. Names of creditors meant Aaron wasn’t choosy about his card-playing buddies. They were the kind who broke legs and tossed bodies into the bayou. Vince needed money, and lots of it, to bail out his son.

Now to make Aaron aware of his dad’s situation, which meant he needed to be questioned. Murford or his boss might have accessed Vince through one of Aaron’s so-called friends. Possibly blackmail in exchange for Aaron’s debt or the heart transplant.
After discussing the possibility with the SSA, other agents were assigned to the investigation.

Grayson placed a call for Aaron Bradshaw to be picked up and learned the order had already been issued. The man was on his way to the FBI office. To keep himself busy, Grayson would summon Joe and let Vince know about questioning the younger Bradshaw. Maybe this time his old partner would crack.

8:25 A.M. WEDNESDAY

Taryn slid into a booth at Denny’s. She glanced at the other patrons and didn’t recognize any of them. A young man asked what she wanted to drink.

“Coffee, please. Black.” Actually, added caffeine probably wasn’t the answer to her bundle of nerves.

“Bring the lady a large orange juice too. And I’ll take coffee with cream.”

The waiter disappeared, leaving Murford standing before her, sporting black-framed glasses, a gray suit, and an ultraconservative tie. His dark hair splayed on his forehead
 
—what she once thought was incredibly sexy. She realized how deep her loathing was for a man she’d thought she would love forever. A murderer who used people, then disposed of them.

“How nice of you to join me,” she said, thankful for the wire in her bra.

He brushed back the hair from her ears, his touch making her feel like filth.

“There’s nothing’s there.” She hoped he couldn’t detect the Kevlar vest. “This is strictly you and me, just like you requested.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do a strip search.”

She forced a smile. “I bet you are.”

“What about your phone?”

She handed him her purse. “It’s in the car.”

He slid onto the booth bench opposite her. “First question: where did you learn self-defense?”

“My secret. Guess you and I have our share of those. Be nice or I’ll show you more.”

He laughed. “Have you figured out how I pulled off the dinner at Tony’s and the St. Regis stay on the fourteenth floor?”

“Of course. All a big setup.”

“Good call, Taryn. Ready to get Zoey back?”

“I am.” She told herself she was acting, and this gig was her defining role. “What guarantees do I have she’s not hurt?”

He pressed a key on his phone. “Let me see Zoey.” He handed Taryn the phone.

Her precious little girl watched TV. It sounded like
Dora the Explorer
, Zoey’s favorite. Her arms were wrapped around her favorite baby doll. Taryn fought the lump in her throat and the tears threatening to flow. Instead she memorized Zoey’s surroundings, the burnt-orange plaid sofa where she sat. Pine-paneled walls, a fireplace behind the TV . . . A cabin.

Murford clicked off the phone. “My end’s good. Now about your side of the deal.” He leaned on his elbows. “I know you enabled the software.”

“How?”

“I have my ways. All I want to know is how to access it. Then I need to confirm what you’ve given me, and we’re done.” Their beverages were placed before them.

“How would I get Zoey?” She took a sip of the coffee. Her trembling fingers squeezed the hot mug.

He rested his hand on her arm, like the sting of a scorpion. “No need to be afraid of me, Taryn. We’re in a public place. What could I do?”

She brushed off his hand. “You could have a gun.”

“And I do. In case you lie to me, I need a ticket out.”

“I’m not the one prone to lying.”

“But it wasn’t all lies.” His eyes emitted a hint of sincerity. He was such a good actor.

“You expect me to believe you?” She’d slap his face if Zoey’s life didn’t depend on this.

“I care about Zoey. Who wouldn’t? And I don’t want her hurt either. I’m not a monster, Taryn.”

She’d reserve her opinion. “What did you tell her about Claire?”

His eyes softened. “That her mother was sick, and you were taking care of her.”

“But you killed her?”

He leaned in. “Necessary. I only kill if there’s no other way.”

“Did you have my life history in front of you?”

“I had it all from the moment you were born. My poor, shy lady who didn’t know how to dance.”

“How convenient.”

“Got me what I needed.”

She raised a brow. “Not everything.”

“Are you backing out on me?” he said.

“Not at all. I won’t give you the info here, not without Zoey.”

“We’re driving to make the transfer.”

“Where?”

“Not too far. A couple of hours.”

Dare she try to keep him talking? Her instructions were to reassure him of her willingness to cooperate, obtain a confession, and get him outside the restaurant. Questioning him further might clue him in to the wire. “What would stop you from getting rid of me after you had the information?”

“My word.”

“That’s rich. I was gullible once.” She wanted to use a tactic certain to cripple him for killing Claire, but she needed him as much as he needed her.

“Now we’re at the same bargaining table.”

Opposite sides, but she’d not bring it up. “You told me you didn’t bomb the airport. So who did?”

He shrugged. “Someone who had his own agenda. I was told to give your toys to Breckon before we left the limo. The bomber had no reason to believe I hadn’t fulfilled my end.”

“Middle Eastern?”

“Seems to be the popular consensus.” He glanced at his watch. “Time to go.”

Panic punched her hard. “I’d like to know where I’m going.”

“Thought Zoey was your priority.”

“She is, but I’m through playing stupid.” She leaned in closer. “You know, my skills could be bought, and not just for one software program.”

He eyed her and scratched his chin. “Maybe I misjudged you.”

She had to make this work. “I think you did. I’m good at developing any kind of software you’d want, and my hacking skills are highly competitive. All I need is what you want to accomplish. There are buyers all over the world who’d pay for my expertise and your contacts.”

“Partners?”

“Absolutely.”

“What’s your price?”

She caressed the side of his face and tilted her head. “Money, and lots of it. Throw in the stuff you stole from me, an apology for destroying my condo, and we can talk more.” She removed her hand, repulsed at the slime seated across from her.

He took a long drink of his coffee and leaned back against the booth. “We could start all over. I find you extremely attractive. But this is a big change for you, especially when you wouldn’t let me near you until we were married.”

“Was it worth it?” she whispered.

Murford cursed. “You’re not playing fair.”

Exactly, and this conversation is disgusting.
Lust for whatever he didn’t have ruled his thoughts. “Let’s say I’m a smarter woman, ready to bargain with whatever it takes. Except I’m not working with a team of ex-military thugs. They bore me.”

He chuckled and stared out the window. “I need to process this.”

“Why? Are they all dead?”

“I need to figure out if this is a smart business venture.”

“How long does it take to add up dollar signs from international vendors?”

He took another drink of coffee and a peek at his watch. “What are your plans after picking up Zoey?”

Odd question, since she knew he’d already planned her death. “Driving into Mexico until I figure out my next move.”

“How does the FBI feel about that?”

“They ended their protective detail when I left this morning. Their decision fell under ‘we don’t negotiate with terrorists.’”

“Do you expect me to believe you?”

She raised her hands. “Search me. They know I’m innocent. Got tired of hearing me ask about Zoey, and all they want is to solve the bombing.”

“Are you telling me no one’s looking for the kid?”

“The prez is more concerned about his image.” She allowed a tear to slip over her cheek. “How he looks to his enemies means more than one little girl’s life. That’s why I’m ready to do whatever you need to find her. Just tell me what you want done.”

“Not here. Let’s go pick up Zoey. We can talk on the way.”

She hadn’t accomplished all she wanted, like names or places.

“What’s the hesitation, Taryn?”

She gave him a nod. “Not a thing. I’m ready.”

He took the bill and headed to the cashier while she scooted out of the booth. Hopefully the FBI had enough info. The many agents working this case baffled her. They could put pieces into slots and come up with viable conclusions. Of course, without the emotional pressure, she could concentrate on the algorithms to develop software that shortened the process. Maybe she could tackle the project after arrests were made.

Taryn waited with Murford, giving him her full attention. He
held open the door and pointed to a silver Explorer near the exit point of the parking lot. A stupid move on his part, unless he had a plan B. Squeezing her fingertips into her palms, she resolved to remain steady. Had to be God because otherwise she’d be a basket case.

A white car crossed in front of them, and she expected it to stop. But the driver was an older man who had both hands on the steering wheel. Would the FBI nab Murford at his SUV? Surround them as they left the parking lot? But he claimed to have a gun. Within a few feet of the vehicle, a maroon pickup shot out from the side of the restaurant and stopped in front of them. A man and a woman jumped out, guns positioned.

“FBI,” the man said. “Phillip Murford, you’re under arrest.”

Murford shot Taryn an angry glare. “You’ll pay for this.”

“I already have,” she said.

He reached inside his jacket, but a pop sounded, and Murford stiffened and pushed against her.

Agents fired. Taryn screamed. She fell to the pavement with Murford on top of her. Blinding pain attacked her senses. Then blackness.

9:20 A.M. WEDNESDAY

All Grayson knew was Taryn and Murford were down, and an ambulance was en route. He should have been there, prevented the situation from going awry. How could she be okay with the report clearly stating otherwise? Where had she been shot?

A hand rested on his shoulder. “What do you know?” Joe said.

“A sniper when agents arrested Murford. He and Taryn are headed to the hospital.” His phone signaled an update. He snatched it, his eyes glued to the small screen. “Murford’s in bad shape. Taryn has a head injury.”

“How bad?”

“She’s listed as stable.”

“We need to bank on that.”

Grayson attempted to swallow the wave of emotions threatening to drown him. His fragile feelings for Taryn needed to be locked away. And he certainly didn’t like the idea of a woman standing in the way of him doing his job as an agent. “I’d like to head to the hospital, but the SSA wants us to interview Aaron Bradshaw first.”

“Sure. Let’s get it done. We’d just be in the way while they patch her up.”

Grayson gazed into the leathered face. “Thanks. We have his burner phone, and they’re tracing the call history through his
provider. We’ll have answers there soon.” The potential gray areas in the next interview popped into his head. “Would you take the lead on Aaron? I think you could tie in your link to Vince. He might have heard your name mentioned.”

“Sure thing.”

The two walked to an interview room where Aaron waited. In view of his background, a team had been assigned to tail him until this was resolved. Grayson paused outside the one-way window and observed the man’s body language. Aaron’s curled lip showed his disgust at being hauled in. He cracked his knuckles and balled his fists. With his serious health issues and facing disgruntled creditors, would he cooperate?

Joe opened the door and Grayson followed. “Aaron, I’m Special Agent Joe West and this is Special Agent Grayson Hall.” He stuck out his hand, but the young man refused it.

Aaron tossed a scowl at Grayson. “You’re my dad’s partner.”

“We were. I’m sorry to report he’s been arrested.”

“For what?” Aaron stuck out his triple chin. He needed a class in how to hide emotions.

Joe slid into a chair across from Aaron. “He’s charged with attempted murder and malicious intent to kidnap.”

“You got the wrong guy.” Aaron crossed his arms over his ample chest. “My dad’s an FBI agent, not a ganger.”

Joe laid a legal pad and a pen on the table. “We didn’t make a mistake. You can try to call him.” Joe pushed his phone toward Aaron.

After three tries, Aaron returned the phone. “I still don’t believe it.”

“We could take you to where he’s being held.”

He stiffened. “I don’t need to see him. This is a setup for something, and I’m not playing your game. I have business to handle.”

“Look,” Joe said. “I used to work with your dad, and back then he was one of the best. We have no idea why he went rogue. But I bet you do.”

“He’s still a great agent. But he’s sick of his job. Ready to retire.” He rubbed his sparsely whiskered cheek. “I’m not going to say anything that would incriminate him.”

“I don’t blame you.” Joe picked up the pen. “We think you might be able to assist us in figuring out your dad’s problem. Are you willing to answer a few questions for us?”

“Would it help him? He was framed, right?”

“We think so.” Not a muscle moved on Joe’s face. “I hate this when it’s about an old friend.”

“All right. I’ll do what I can.”

“Where do you work?”

“Medically disabled.” He shifted in the chair. “Diabetes. Heart’s not good either.”

“I suppose you get a disability check?”

Aaron nodded.

“Where do you live?”

“With my dad. What do you think?”

Joe’s features softened as though what he planned to say next was difficult. “Aaron, do you have a gambling problem?”

“Did my dad say that?”

Joe narrowed his gaze. “What do you think?”

“If you’re asking if I play cards, the answer’s yes. Have to do something to keep busy. Do I have a problem with it? No. Dad’s always on me about my habit, as he calls it.”

“Really?” Joe pointed to his BlackBerry. “I have a report stating you’ve built a huge gambling debt. The fellas you owe aren’t exactly pillars of the community. We have the list. How are you handling it?”

Contempt moved into Aaron’s face. “I have it under control.”

“Doesn’t look like your disability check would begin to cover your bills. Is your dad helping you pay them off?”

“My finances or Dad’s are none of your business.”

“It’s our business when your dad breaks the law to pay off your bills.”

“Then he shouldn’t have gotten caught.”

“Sounds real grateful, especially when he can’t pay your way while sitting in jail. For that matter, he’s going to be in jail for a long time. Hard for him to send you an allowance when he’s not earning any money. What about the heart replacement? Do you have someone lined up to foot the medical bills?”

Aaron fumed. “I don’t appreciate the guilt thing.”

Joe opened Aaron’s file and leafed through it. “From this list, who do you owe?”

“Hey, those guys play for keeps. Besides, you said you had names.”

“We do. But I’m sure there’s one who has you running for the border.”

Aaron glared and shook his head. “Not going there.”

“Okay, I see you’re afraid. Who are your dad’s friends?”

“None he told me about.”

“Nobody who comes around? Phones him?”

“I don’t monitor his after-work hours.”

“Looks like he should have monitored yours.” Joe picked up his legal pad, where he’d written a page of his questions and Aaron’s answers, or lack of. “By the way, whoever hired your dad has a contract out on him. So if he’s able to post bail, he’s a dead man.”

Aaron’s eyes widened. “You’re crazy. My dad’s a smart man.”

“We thought so too. Looks like we’re done here. Understand your gambling buds will be interviewed.”

Aaron paled. “Please don’t contact them.”

“No choice. If you think of anything, give us a call.”

“I thought you were his friend.”

“I am. But right now you’re the only one who can help him.”

“I can’t.” Aaron’s hands trembled. “Look at his record. And he takes care of me.”

Joe huffed. “Should have thought about that long before now.”

Uncle Joe had officially pulled off his gloves.

“He didn’t tell me where he got the money. I assumed he borrowed it. Or had it in the bank.”

“As I said, you should have thought about your choices instead of yourself.”

Aaron stared at his hands, folded on the tabletop. They shook. “I did hear one name mentioned.”

Joe poised his pen. “I’m waiting.”

“Murford. Dad met with him a few times.”