Hard Target (18 page)

Leila’s eyes narrowed. “That place I was just talking about. Amir’s. In Fairfax.”

“Right.”

She smiled knowingly. “Say tomorrow, seven
PM
.”

“Okay. ‘Tomorrow, seven
PM
.’” He grinned. They both laughed.

“See you then.”

As he watched her stride away, DeSantos’s approaching voice grabbed his attention. “Are we all squared away? Did you exchange any information with her, or just lots of hormones?”

“Hormones,” Uzi said. “No info.” They turned and headed for his car. “We’re having dinner tomorrow. Some Mediterranean place in Fairfax.”

“Amir’s,” DeSantos said. “Great food. You’ll like it.”

Uzi pulled out his keys and winked at his partner. “I’m not going there for the food.”

6:16 PM

139 hours 44 minutes remaining

The chilled evening descended quickly. While Uzi spent the afternoon hours going through emailed reports his task force agents had submitted, the hours melted into a clearing sunset. He was making steady progress when his phone line began blinking. He’d turned off the ringer hours earlier and his secretary had already gone home. He picked up the receiver, but no one was there.

Uzi set it down and turned his attention to another intra-office email. Ten minutes later, a message from Agent Hoshi Koh caught his eye: “I might have something. Call me ASAP.”

Uzi lifted the handset, but before he could dial, Hoshi was standing in his doorway, her hand poised to knock.

“I was just about to call you,” he said as he set the phone back in its cradle.

“I tried your line twice, and then your cell. But you didn’t answer.”

“I turned off the ringers. What’s up?”

Hoshi took a seat on his guest chair and reclined. “You really wanna know?”

Uzi tilted his head. “Hoshi, it’s late, I’m tired, and my brain is about to close up shop for the night. So if you’ve got something, speak up or hold it till tomorrow.”

“I thought you saved the grouch for everyone else and your charming side for me.”

“Sorry. I really am exhausted.” Uzi leaned back in his large leather office chair and rubbed his right eye with the knuckle of his fist. “So...you found something?”

“Yeah, a guy who used to work with Ellison until a month ago, when he was transferred to Pax River, a different branch of HMX. Lieutenant Brad Wheeler. From what I’ve been able to gather, Wheeler hated Ellison’s guts. They had more than one knock-down drag-out off base. Had something to do with Wheeler’s transfer.”

“Wonder why Vasquez didn’t tell us about that.” He noted Hoshi’s crumpled brow. “The Aircraft Maintenance Officer at HMX. He had every chance to tell us about Wheeler’s beef— Shit, he probably had a hand in the transfer.”

“You want me to follow up?”

“I’ll have Hector do it. He and Vasquez go back aways.” Uzi thought a moment. “His sheet?”

“Clean.”

“Figured. Wouldn’t be at HMX if he had any marks. But you like this guy for Ellison.”

“He’s got to be looked at.”

“I agree. So where’s the problem?”

Hoshi shifted in her seat. “A buddy of Ellison’s at Quantico told us Wheeler recently purchased a forty-five.”

“Same caliber used on Ellison and his sister.”

“Could be coincidence and mean nothing, but—”

“Anyone talk to this guy?”

“I did. Alibi is weak. Says he was in bed, sick. I checked with Pax River, and he did call in sick. But no doctor’s visit before or after. No script, but a bunch of over-the-counter meds. Showed me a credit card receipt from CVS the day before the murder. I spoke with the store, and the receipt was for meds. But buying cold medicine and calling in sick doesn’t mean jack.” She received a nod from Uzi. “Other than that, I didn’t get much from him. Too damn disciplined.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a Marine.” Uzi rocked a bit in his chair, thinking. Then: “Gun records?”

Hoshi folded her arms across her chest and smiled wanly. “I knew you’d get to that sooner or later. In this case, later.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“The director won’t allow us to access the NICS,” she said, referring to the National Instant Criminal Background Check System, the federal audit log utilized by gun dealers to conduct background checks on gun purchasers. “So the gun records might tell us a nice story, except that I can’t get at them.”

Uzi squinted. “That makes no sense. We need those records. What’s his problem?”

“You really want to know?”

Uzi rose from his chair and stretched. “Hoshi, do you realize that every time I ask for your opinion, you answer me with a question?”

“Do I?” She caught herself and laughed. “Sorry.” She glanced over her right shoulder, then lowered her voice. “I’ve had my eye on Knox for a long time. I just don’t trust the guy. I’ve always felt he’s had his hands in the NFA’s coffers.”

At the mention of the National Firearms Alliance, Uzi’s ears perked up. “Like how?”

“To the tune of four-hundred thousand for his last senatorial reelection bid before he became director.”

Uzi whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”

“That’s a lot of influence,” Hoshi said.

Uzi’s eyes were roaming the room, but he was seeing nothing. He was thinking, putting this latest puzzle piece together with the others he’d inherited in the Rusch investigation. “Okay,” he finally said. “So I need to get with Shepard on this, see if he can chat up the attorney general, get him to talk some sense into our esteemed director. I mean, we’re all on the same side, right?” He shook his head. “Kind of strange for the head of the top law enforcement agency in the world to prevent his own agents from doing their jobs.”

“I just came from Shepard’s. He’s still here, if you want to talk to him.”

“Let’s do that.” He moved out from behind his desk and strolled through the doorway. “Anything come up on Gene Harmon?”

“How so?”

“Being chair of the House Select Committee on Intelligence, I figure the guy could’ve rattled a cage or two. See if he was involved in any unusually sensitive or controversial decisions the past couple of years.”

“May be tough to get that kind of info. Closed-door congressional stuff.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” He received a reluctant nod from Hoshi, then continued: “Put some people on his life. Known acquaintances, relatives, friends—especially ambassadors, foreign heads of state, that sort of thing.”

“Already being done.”

“And follow up on this Wheeler dude. Talk to his buddies, see what else we can dig up on the guy.”

“Speaking of digging up...” She handed him a message slip with a name and phone number scrawled across it. “A source of mine, works for a group that keeps tabs on gun-control issues. Gun Violence Center. He’s got some info for you.”

“You already spoke to him?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got an open line to him. He usually knows what’s going to happen before it does. Must have good intuition.”

“Or good sources. Is he legit?”

“Thoroughly vetted. Totally clean. Graduated from UC Berkeley with a law degree, went to work for a huge firm in San Francisco but hated it. Became a PI specializing in cases that had a legal slant. Did that for eleven years, then moved east a decade ago.”

“Moved east? Why?”

“Found his calling in certain political issues. Figured best place to be is here.”

“You’re comfortable with him?”

“Don’t take my word for it. Talk to him, decide for yourself.”

Uzi shoved the message slip into his pocket as he entered Marshall Shepard’s office.

SHEPARD WAS ON THE PHONE, his elbows resting on the desk and his face buried in his large hands. Uzi and Hoshi took seats in front of him and waited.

“Yeah, do that,” Shepard said. “Keep me informed.” He pulled off the headset, then slammed it down on his desk. “Christ. That guy drives me up a wall. Up a freakin’ wall.” His face seemed to take in the presence of Hoshi—and the significance of her visit. “She told you,” Shepard said to Uzi.

“What do you make of it?”

“Just got back from a briefing with the director. I was going to fill you in.”

“Now’s a good time.”

Shepard looked at Hoshi. “What did you tell him?”

Hoshi’s cheeks flushed, and Uzi realized he should have come alone.

“Just what we discussed, sir.”

“If Koh here told you what she knows,” Shepard said, “you probably know most of it. Director is placing some restrictions on our investigation.”

Uzi found a toothpick on Shepard’s desk. He pulled it from the wrapper and stuck it in his mouth. “You talk as if it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not, Uzi, it’s not. There are bigger issues for us to deal with.”

“He’s our chief, but he’s handcuffing us. We need those gun records.”

“We’ve had roadblocks in investigations before. We’ll find other ways of getting the info.”

Uzi shared a look with Hoshi, whose face remained neutral. She was clearly uncomfortable with Uzi’s challenging Shepard.

“Hoshi,” Uzi said, “why don’t you go finish that background sheet on Wheeler?”

Hoshi checked her watch, then glanced up at Shepard for his approval.

“Go,” he said with the flick of a large hand.

She gathered herself and left the room.

As the door clicked shut, Uzi turned back to Shepard. “She’s afraid of you, you know.”

Shepard twisted his lips. “Most of my agents are. Except you. Why is that?”

“Because I know your secret. You’ve got a heart as big as your head.” Shepard growled. Uzi got the impression that if his boss had been a Rottweiler, he’d have bared his teeth. “Back to Knox. Who else was in on this meeting?”

Shepard looked away. “The attorney general.”

“That must’ve been fun. Cats and dogs.” Uzi chuckled. “Did Coulter lay into him?”

“The Attorney General didn’t have much of anything to say. He asked a few questions for clarification, but that was it.” Shepard lifted a shoulder. “Maybe this whole NICS thing is Coulter’s idea to begin with.”

“You think?”

“Who the hell knows. They’re both very conservative, Uzi. Strict interpretation of the Second Amendment.”

Uzi held the tip of his nose and leaned forward.

“What’s wrong?”

“Second Amendment or not, something stinks, Shep. And it’s bad, whatever it is.”

Shepard held up a big paw. “Let it stink. You just stay away from it. It’s the fucking director, for Christ’s sake. You’ve got enough problems—and enough on your plate.”

Uzi could feel Shepard’s eyes glaring at him. But he was lost in thought.

“Uzi, did you hear me? Did you hear what I said? Leave it alone.”

Uzi rose from his chair and headed out.

“Where are you going?” Shepard barked.

Uzi stepped through the door, not bothering to stop as he called out over his shoulder, “To clear some room on my plate.”

6:58 PM

139 hours 2 minutes remaining

After finishing with Shepard, Uzi grabbed his jacket and walked two blocks from the office toward that once ubiquitous, yet now rare, convenience: a pay phone. He pulled out the message slip Hoshi had given him and stood there, deciding if he wanted to call—and if he did, what he would say.

Figuring he had little to lose, he punched in the cell number for Hoshi’s contact, Tad Bishop. The phone rang three times, but as Uzi entertained thoughts of hanging up—

“Bishop.”

Uzi dipped his chin. Good tradecraft. Always. “Mr. Bishop, I was given your name by a friend. She told me you’ve got a good handle on the gun lobby.”

“A bit of an understatement, but I won’t hold that against you.”

“Good, because I’ve got some questions for you.”

“Not over the phone.”

“Fine,” Uzi said. “Meet me in the park behind Bureau of Printing and Engraving, off Wallenberg Drive. Go to the fireplug along Wallenberg and wait there.”

“It’ll take me about twenty minutes,” Bishop said.

“I’ll be the tall, dark, handsome guy in the leather overcoat.”

“And I’ll be the bald guy who’s been thinking of dieting but can’t seem to find the time.”

UZI STOOD IN THE PLAZA of the United States Holocaust Museum, down the block from the Bureau of Printing and Engraving. Finally, forty minutes after they had first spoken, a rotund man ambled up to the traffic light stanchion.

“You’re late,” Uzi said.

“I had to check you out. It took longer than I thought.”

Uzi looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t think I’d just show up to meet someone who calls me and says, ‘Meet me in a park to discuss the gun lobby’ without doing a little due diligence.”

Uzi pursed his lips. “Fair enough.”

He lowered his voice. “I’ll cut right to the chase. You want to know about the director, right? We’re coming out with a report on Douglas Knox tomorrow. I’ll make sure you get a copy, or if you want, you can download it from our website.”

“But that doesn’t tell the whole story,” Uzi said.

Bishop turned and crossed Raoul Wallenberg Place, Uzi at his side. “I don’t know if we’ll ever know the whole story. But no, some things were left out of the report. I believe in what we do, but I know there are limits to the buttons we push. We want to stay alive, so there are certain lines we don’t cross. If there’s something that falls outside those lines, I tell Agent Koh and let her deal with it.”

Uzi felt the moist dirt of the park grass giving a bit beneath his loafers. He stepped back onto the sidewalk and continued a few more paces in silence. “Consider me an extension of Agent Koh. I’ll make sure any information you give me can’t be traced back to you.” When he got no objection, Uzi continued. “Let’s start with some easy questions. Is Knox a member of the NFA?”

“Yes.”

Uzi nodded. He figured as much. “How do you feel about that?”

“Over the years, congressmen have served on the NFA’s board of directors. That’s bad enough. But the director of the FBI? He should be squeaky clean. No ties to any group, organization, or corporation that could color his judgment on the issues he has to face while doing his job.”

“How’s NFA different from the NRA? I’m sure plenty of conservative politicians are NRA members.”

“Different animal,” Bishop said. He stopped walking and faced Uzi. “They’ve also got lines that shouldn’t be crossed, and the NRA respects that line. But the NFA’s a different story. Twenty years ago, when they were more concerned with the rights of hunters, it wasn’t a big deal. But since then, the NFA’s morphed into a political animal, a huge lobby group with substantial resources and a slab of new turf. They became the foot soldiers of the far right. The sales force, so to speak.”