Karen Vail 01 - Velocity (27 page)

“Are you saying we shouldn’t try?” Vail asked, then turned to Gifford, who was stil lost in thought. “Sir, please.”

Gifford pul ed his gaze to Vail. “Find him. Whatever it takes, bring him back.

Preferably alive.”

Vail looked at DeSantos. “You with me?”

DeSantos licked his lips, hands stil on his hips. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

46

O
nce they’d cleared the stairs outside the BAU, Vail stopped. She grabbed the railing. “I blew it, Hector. Do you think—did I get Robby kil ed?”

DeSantos put his arm around Vail’s shoulders. “I sure hope not. I’m not gonna lie to you. This is bad. His cover’s been compromised. We’re behind the eight bal on this. But you’ve got friends on the task force in Napa?”

Vail nodded.

“Cal them. Have them find Guevara. Take him somewhere, legal or not, and sweat him. Wil they do that? Wil they grab him up without a warrant?”

She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Convince them. Whatever it takes, they’ve gotta find out what he knows. It may be our only chance. Meantime, I’m gonna reach out to some people and see what I can do.”

He pul ed his phone, then turned back to Vail. “
Now
. Make the cal .”

Vail mental y slapped herself.
Get with it, Karen. Freak out later.
She cal ed Dixon. Brix was in the car with her, so he could hear what she had to say.

“I’m about to ask you a favor, and it’s going to jeopardize your careers. But I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Dixon said, “Go on.”

“Brix, have you been briefed—”

“I’m up to speed.”

“Okay. Listen to me. César Guevara was the target of a DEA operation. Robby was brought in by his friend Antonio Sebastiani de Medina—Sebastian—to work the case with him. He was only supposed to handle one transaction, but Robby’s meet with Guevara went wel , and his role expanded.”

“I thought Robby was a detective with some smal town in Virginia,” Brix said.

“Venice?”

“Vienna. Long story, and it’s unimportant. He got this gig with DEA, hoping it’d lead to a permanent position. So now we have the connection between Robby and Guevara. That’d explain Ian Wirth’s address in Guevara’s house, in Robby’s handwriting. Robby was probably helping Guevara at that point. Maybe it was a test. I don’t know—I don’t know if we’l ever know. But you’ve got to find Guevara.

Before it’s too late.”

“I’m turning the car around right now. We’l check Superior first.”

“There’s stil not enough for a warrant, so you’re going to need to grab him up and take him somewhere.” Vail realized she was on an open cel connection—but there was no time. Robby’s life was of paramount concern. If she lost her career but saved him, it’d be worth it. Then again, if she lost her career and he turned up dead—
no, I can’t think that way. He’s alive. He’s alive.

“I’m texting Mann,” Brix said. “Get him over to Guevara’s house. Just in case.”

“One thing you should know,” Vail said. “Robby and Sebastian missed their last three check-ins with their DEA case agent. And Guevara left a voice mail for me a little while ago that said Robby was dead. He made it sound like he wasn’t responsible, but that he knew who was.”

“Don’t believe that scumbag,” Dixon said. “If he’s got information, we’l get it.”

“Thanks, guys.”

“Hang in there,” Brix said. “We’l be in touch.”

Vail looked up. DeSantos was ending his cal . “C’mon. We’ve got a meet with a guy who’s gonna get some info for us.”

“Who is he?”

“Don’t ask, don’t tel . Best that way.”

Vail pul ed herself up from the steps. “If he’s got the info we need, I couldn’t give a shit who he is.”

47

D
ixon took the turn too fast, and the car dovetailed. Brix grabbed the dashboard with his right hand but couldn’t keep his shoulder from pushing up against the door.

“Sorry,” Dixon said. “Make sure your seat belt’s fastened because I don’t intend on going the speed limit.”

“How hard do you want to push this?”

“I intend on coming away with answers, Redd. Simple as that. This guy’s wrapped up in this. He might’ve had something to do with the Lugo kidnapping. He may’ve had something to do with aiding John Mayfield. And he apparently has something to do with Robby’s disappearance. I don’t plan on giving him a Coke and a slice of lime and treating him like he’s at a spa.”

But Dixon was wel aware that Brix had recently given her and Vail a hard time about entering César Guevara’s home without a warrant. Now she was expecting Brix to join her in leaping off the career-ending legal precipice with her.

“Once we cross this line,” he said, “there’s no going back.”

Dixon took a quick glance in Brix’s direction. Their eyes locked. A silent answer.

They pul ed onto the street where Superior Mobile Bottling was located. “It’s 7:00

AM,” Brix said. “I doubt he’s here.”

“He gets to his office every morning at 7:15,” Dixon said, pul ing into the adjacent parking lot. She slid the car into a slot behind the building, hidden from the street.

“Up ahead, by that brick wal ,” she said, pointing. “We’l have a view of the front entrance and the side driveway. We’l be able to see him when he arrives, but he won’t see us.”

Brix nodded and then fol owed Dixon on foot to their perch. The air was crisp and the sky was brightening to their left, in the east.

The time ticked by without activity. Final y, at 7:40 AM, Dixon sat down on the ground, her back against the brick wal .

“What do you think?” Brix asked.

“I don’t know. My source only knew what time he came in each day. I don’t know how prompt he usual y is.” Dixon pul ed her phone, cal ed Austin Mann. “Anything?”

“House is dark. By now I’d think someone’d be awake and moving around. I’ve got the front, Gordon’s got the back, and I’ve got two other guys from NSIB placed at various other points of interest. Nobody’s seen anything.”

“Guevara’s usual y at his office by 7:15,” Dixon said. “It’s possible he’s out of town. If he is, that’d be very convenient timing.”

“You want us to go up and knock?” Mann asked.

Dixon thought about that. “No, let’s give it a little longer. Maybe he’s running late.

I’d rather take him at his office. There isn’t a whole lot around here. But in a residential neighborhood . . . lots of potential eyes and ears.”

“Okay,” Mann said. “We sit and wait.”

48

V
ail fol owed DeSantos to his car, a low-slung black Corvette.

“You’re kidding me,” Vail said.

“What?”

“You want me to drive around in that?” She wiggled a finger at the highly polished sports car. “I have claustrophobia. Let’s take my Ford.”

DeSantos unlocked the Vette. “I don’t ride in Fords. Get in, you’l be fine.”

And a moment later, they were speeding out of the lot, en route to I-95.

Vail looked around. She was sitting lower than she had ever sat in a car. But so far, there was no crushing anxiety. Her psyche was probably so overworked with stress from Robby’s situation that it had nothing left to give.
Take your mind off it
and you’ll be fine.

A spark of sunlight glinted off the highly polished chrome of DeSantos’s stylish watch band. “Is that a bicycle chain you’re wearing?” She nodded at the timepiece on his wrist. “Your watch.”

“It’s a Dēmos. Same one the president wears.”

Vail twisted her lips. “And you would know that, how?”

DeSantos frowned. “You’l soon learn not to ask me questions like that.” He gunned the accelerator and they rocketed across three lanes of traffic to the far left of the interstate.

Vail felt her stomach vault into the backseat and she reached out for something

—anything—to grab onto. Perhaps she got too comfortable in this vehicle too soon. She licked her lips, trying to restore moisture to her suddenly dry mouth.

“This guy you’ve hooked us up with. Who is he? I don’t like going into any situation blindly, let alone a meet with a CI.”

“He’s not a CI,” DeSantos said. “He works for DEA. Let’s just say he has access to files and information. That’s how I got what I got that led me to Gifford.”

“And I’m not supposed to know any of this.”

“If you did know it, he’d have to kil you.”

At the moment, Vail did not find that funny. And despite both Gifford’s and DeSantos’s admonitions, she did feel responsible for blowing Robby’s cover.

Dammit, if he had just trusted me, if he had just confided in me and told me he
had a mission and that he’d be gone awhile. What would the harm have been?
P

“You went quiet on me,” DeSantos said. “Where were you just now?” Vail turned toward her window. “Nowhere.”

“Bul shit. You were thinking about Robby. You feel guilty.”

Vail did not respond.

“For al we know,” DeSantos said, “he’s fine and lying low until it’s safe to resurface. He could’ve talked his way out of it.”

“Anything’s possible,” Vail said. “Either way, I’m going to find him. And if something’s happened to him, I’m going to find whoever’s responsible. I can be a real bitch when I’m crossed.”

“You understand he had to leave without you knowing. He couldn’t tel you.”

“No, I don’t understand any of that. What I understand is that he lied to me. I kissed him good-bye in the morning and he told me he’d see me later that evening.

But he had no intention of seeing me, did he?”

DeSantos zipped past a car that was doing ten over the speed limit. She glanced at the speedometer. They were going 95 miles per hour.

“We don’t know what happened. Maybe he expected to have dinner with you. But something might’ve broken on the case, and he had to leave. Don’t judge him until you know the facts.”

“Bottom line. He was doing this and chose not to tel me. Omission of facts is the same as lying, Hector. He deceived me. How can I trust him the same way ever again? Trust is one of the most important things in a relationship.”

“I’m married, Karen. I understand where you’re coming from. But until you give Robby a chance to explain, you’re not being fair. You’re taking this personal y, not looking at it as a federal agent who has an in-depth knowledge of deep cover work.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through. A failed marriage. A spouse who went from loving husband to abusive drunk who refused to take his medication. I needed someone I could trust, someone I could lose myself in and not worry about whether or not he was lying to me.” She shook her head. “As far as I’m concerned, there are no excuses. When we find him, Hector, I’m going to kil him.”

THEY ARRIVED AT THEIR MEET with the contact, whom DeSantos cal ed

“Sammy.” It wasn’t his real name, but it was safer this way for al involved.

DeSantos pul ed his Corvette up to the curb in front of Professors Gate at The George Washington University on 21st Street NW. He shoved the shift into park and popped open his door.

“I don’t think we can leave it here,” Vail said.

“Not a problem. If they start to write up a ticket, they’l run my plate and everything’l be fine.”

Vail looked at him. “You’re not real y serious.”

DeSantos slipped on his wraparound sunglasses. “Real y, I am.” He dropped the keys into his suit pocket. “You worry too much, Karen.”

He walked through the decorative wrought iron arch, which was supported by two squat concrete tile columns. “GW” was prominently lettered in gold on black above the apex of the curve.

“Why here?” Vail asked as she fol owed him along the red brick pathway.

“Why not? It’s my alma mater. I donate every year when they cal me, so I may as wel get some use out of my donation.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the point.”

“It’s not, but so what?” They walked past a black circular sculpture seated on a square cement emplacement within a slightly elevated grass strip: three circles intertwined within one another. They continued past it toward Kogan Plaza and stopped near a miniature concrete gazebo topped with a copper dome. A man in jeans and a navy sweatshirt leaned against one of its ionic columns, pul ing on a cigarette.

“Kogan Plaza,” DeSantos said, nodding at a brick-laid square ahead of them.

“Bart Kogan’s a big donor to the school.”

“You know him, of course.”

“Matter of fact, I do. Friend of mine introduced me to him once, when he was in town. Had coffee. Nice guy.”

DeSantos stopped short of the structure and took a seat on a weathered wooden bench to his left, positioned beneath a row of medium-height trees. Vail sat beside him.

Vail tilted her head toward the gazebo. “That Sammy?”

“It is,” DeSantos said. “He’l be over in a minute.” He turned to Sammy, removed and replaced his sunglasses, then put his arm across the back of the bench behind Vail. “Let me do the talking, okay? He’l be nervous enough with you here.”

“He’s got a basebal hat on, sunglasses and a beard. I’m guessing the beard’s fake. Is he real y worried I might ID him?”

“A guy like this doesn’t take chances.” DeSantos pul ed out a pack of Juicy Fruit.

“And neither do I.” He flipped open the gum and removed a stick, then offered Vail a piece. She declined.

As DeSantos folded the Juicy Fruit into his mouth, Sammy joined them on the bench, to DeSantos’s left. He did not look at them.

He lowered his chin and said, “Your friend was working on an op known as Velocity. The op’s been active since 2006 and heated up this year when we caught a break. Things were moving nicely til one of our guys had an accident. Your friend fil ed that void.”

“What was the op?” Vail asked.