Never Go Home (22 page)

“Jack, have you
ever heard of FATF?”

“Yeah, sure,” I
said automatically. “On second thought, no.”

“FATF is a
special task force within the OECD. Have you heard of them?”

“Yeah, it’s an
international organization that has something to do with economic policy,
right?”

She nodded.
“Close enough. The FATF task force deals with money laundering on a global
scale. This is big due to terrorism, and there is a large focus on Africa right
now. Those groups are the primary target.”

“OK. What’s
that have to do with me?”

She glanced
down at the paper. “Was this all there was?”

“We searched
the office. The drawers were empty. Their PC had been wiped. Like I said,
whoever was sent to take out Jessie did a nice job of cleaning the place, or
she did it first.”

She held up the
paper. “This is all written in the same hand, but I’d venture to say it was at
the very least days apart. You can see the ink is different. The code is in
black, and your name is in dark blue.”

“What’s the
code say?”

She rose and
paced around the table. “It talks about the FATF and a target. It has nothing
to do with you. At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“Who’s the
target?”

“I can’t tell
that part, unfortunately. It doesn’t match with the rest of the message.”

“What?”

“Code within
the code.”

“Marcia, how
were you able to tell what that paper says?”

She stopped,
placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Before my foray into law, I
worked in MI5, undercover.”

“How come Sasha
hasn’t mentioned this to me?”

“She doesn’t
know. Our paths never crossed. I was never on the payroll under my name.”

“You left about
five years ago?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“My cover was
blown.”

“How?”

“I was exposed
during an investigation of Jessie Staley.”

Hearing
Jessie’s name knocked me back. I brought both hands to the top of my head. For
a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Hearing her husband’s accusations was one
thing. Seeing the paper with my name on it, another. A woman who claimed to be
a secret agent for Britain’s counter-intelligence agency telling me that she
investigated Jessie felt earth shattering.

“What were
you investigating her for?” I said.

“It was so
long ago, Jack, I can’t remember all the details.”

“It was your
last case. I’m sure you remember some of it.”

She took a
seat next to me again. “Your evidence against Keller was destroyed all those
years ago.”

I nodded.

“Jessie did
that.”

I nodded
again.

“Do you know
why?”

“They
threatened her parents.”

“Yes. And
what does a bully do when they know threats work?”

I looked
away. “They keep making them.”

“Correct.”

“Who?” I
said.

She shook her
head. “It doesn’t matter, Jack.”

“Don’t tell
me it doesn’t matter. They killed her, and judging by that paper, they want me
dead, too.”

“You’re not
the only one,” she said. “I’m a loose end.”

“When this
happened, did they get your name, or your cover?”

“Cover, but
it is obvious that someone recognized me.”

I studied her
for a moment. “So, these attacks that are happening, the reason you wanted me
around, was because you aren’t dealing with thugs. These are professional
killers? Why are you out in the streets every day? Why are you running for
public office? Why not run off and hide?”

“They can
find me anywhere. Don’t you get it? They’ll get to me one way or another. I’m
going to go out on my own terms.”

I thought
through what she had said. Part of me refused to believe it. It wasn’t
possible.

“Tell me what
you know about Jessie’s role in all of this,” I said.

“I knew about
Jessie’s death before you did. I received an anonymous call. That’s why I
pressed for you to join me. I knew they were close.”

“Tell me what
you know about what she was involved in.”

“She was used
as a runner. When something had to be transported, she was called. I’m talking
about very sensitive documents, Jack. They stopped using electronic
communications because we caught too much of it.”

“How would
she transport them? They wouldn’t risk giving her a folder, would they?”

“Often it’s
in the form of a chip. They’ll implant it in the flesh.”

I thought
back to the morgue. She had a recent cut on her arm about an inch long.

Marcia pushed
the sheet in front of me. “Other times they’d memorize it.”

I studied her
face. She was unwavering.

“I spoke to
her several times during my investigation years ago. We encountered each other.
She put on a tough front, but I could tell she was scared. She opened up to me.
That’s how I know about the threats to her family. They never let up. They
threatened her kids, who were babies at the time.”

“How’d you
get busted?”

“I let my
guard down.”

I waited for
her to continue. She didn’t.

“All that
stuff you know about me, is that from being in MI5?”

She nodded,
said nothing.

“So you don’t
know anything recent?”

“No, not
really.”

I pushed my
chair back and rose. She stared up at me. I walked past her, toward the front
door.

“I’m going
out for a bit. You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I stepped
outside. After a few days of oppressive humidity, I welcomed the cool night
air. I walked down the driveway. The trees rose up into the sky and blocked the
streetlight two houses down. I reached the curb and turned right.

My mind raced
from one thought to the next. The revelation about the extent of Jessie’s
activities came as a partial shock. I saw it coming, even if I’d tried to avoid
it. She gave up our evidence against Keller. They had her from that moment on.

Who, though?
What did they have her do? How often? Where did I fit into this? If Marcia was
right, and my name had been added to that paper after the fact, why had it come
up?

I looked up
at the clear sky. “I wish you could talk to me, Jess.”

She couldn’t,
though. And for all I knew, the clues had been there and I’d missed them.

I continued
along the street. A dog barked from behind a chain link fence. My thoughts turned
to April for the first time since I’d left. I wondered if she knew anything
about this. That was doubtful. Perhaps Deb did, though. She and Jessie had
remained tight. Maybe something had slipped over a glass of wine. I pulled out
my phone. It was eight o’clock in Florida. They’d still be up.

Sean
answered.

“Are you guys
OK?” I said.

“We’re all
good. We made it up to—”

“Don’t tell
me. It’s best I don’t know.”

“What’s going
on, Jack?”

“Is Deb
around?”

“Sure, but
can you tell me first?”

“No.” I
paused. “Sorry, I just can’t yet. I’m not sure.”

“OK.” He said
something in the background, then Deb came on.

“Jack?”

“Deb, I need
you to think back over the last five years. Did Jessie ever say anything to you
that indicated she was in danger?”

“With her
husband?”

“No, not him,
just in general. Did it ever sound like she feared for her life?”

“Her life?
No, not that I can think of.”

“When she
went away, what did she tell you?”

“She went out
of town for sales conferences and on trips she had won. She took me once. We
went to Jamaica.”

“Did anything
out of the ordinary happen there?”

“Pretty
ordinary, Jack. We were well past our party days.”

“OK. Tell
Sean I’ll call in the morning.”

I turned and
headed back to the house. The same dog barked when I passed his yard. I hoped
that a moment of clarity would find me as easily as the dog. It didn’t. I
walked up to the front door more confused than when I had left.

I glanced to
the side. The bedroom window was lit up. Marcia had found it. I figured she had
lain down, so I quietly opened the door.

I heard the
sound of her voice. It was muffled. I couldn’t tell what she’d said, but it
seemed as if she spoke with an American accent. I stood in the entryway for a
moment. The call ended before I could hear anything else.

The bedroom door
creaked open. Marcia stepped out. With nothing to change into, she had on the
same clothes.

“I didn’t
know you were back,” she said.

“Just got
here,” I said.

She walked
past me.

“I swear I
heard an American accent coming out of your room.”

She looked back,
smiled and nodded. “I was on the phone with my sister.”

“Your
sister?”

“She’s
worried about me.”

“And she
speaks like she’s from the States?”

Marcia
stopped and turned. “My father ran off to the U.S. when I was young. He
remarried and had three more children. Anna, the oldest of the three, and I are
close. That’s who I was speaking with. She is very American. Even more than
you.”

I let it go
at that. She got a glass of water from the kitchen, and went back to the room.
I lay down on the couch. Despite my nap on the plane, I had no trouble falling
asleep.

Alessandro
stretched out on the back seat of his car, asleep. His phone woke him. He
opened his eyes. The moon hovered high overhead. It looked like a flashlight, a
hundred yards away. If he traveled a few hundred yards to the west, he’d see it
reflected off the calm gulf waters.

He let the
phone ring four times before answering. He contemplated letting it go to
voicemail. It wasn’t as if Vera wouldn’t call back until he answered. And she’d
be pissed. And a pissed Vera was not ideal for Alessandro’s well-being, so he
answered her call.

“The husband
knows too much,” she said.

The statement
caught him off guard. He’d been prepared to face another man. He expected she
would call to relay pertinent information.

“About what?”
he said. “He wasn’t there.”

“About
something I don’t want him knowing. You’ll have to kill him. But, before you
do, you’ll need to find out what his brother knows.”

“So you want me
to start with his brother?”

“No, deal with the
husband first. Prior to killing him, press him for information on his brother.
If we can avoid killing that man, let’s do so. The mess is spreading and I need
you to contain it before the leak is out. We’re on the verge of the wrong set
of eyes falling upon Crystal River.”

Alessandro
glanced up, through the rear window. Thin clouds raced by the moon, hiding
portions of it, but never the entire orb. He tried to think of a question to
ask Vera that might lead to more information. He disliked being in the middle
of something this convoluted without all the facts.

“OK,” he said.
“Anyone else?”

“Keep an eye on
the sheriff. I don’t know how much she knows. I’ll send you the addresses,
including the location of the sheriff’s department.”

Vera ended the
call before he could say anything. After a minute, he climbed between the front
seats and slid in behind the wheel. He had turned the key in the ignition when
his phone buzzed. It was a message from Vera. She wanted him to return to the
house first. He plugged the address into the Impala’s navigation unit and
pulled onto Suncoast.

The drive took
five minutes. He didn’t pass a single car on the way. He pulled into the
familiar neighborhood. Judging by the darkened front windows along the street,
everyone had already headed to bed. He glanced at the clock on the dash. It was
just after eleven p.m.

He spotted the
house, drove past it, parked two lots down.

Alessandro
hopped the neighbor’s fence and darted across their backyard. He hit the next
fence full speed and vaulted over it. He repeated the process once more, then
raced to the back of Jessie’s house.

It was dark
inside. The air handlers were silent. It didn’t look like anyone was home. He
moved to the rear door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open and crept through
the house with his sidearm drawn. He cleared the place, room by room, verifying
they were all empty.

He called Vera
to tell her. She sent him directions to Matt’s house with instructions to
neutralize the men only if threatened. He ignored the warning.

No one would
know either way.

He bypassed
town and arrived at the entrance of a neglected neighborhood twenty minutes
later. The place looked run down. The houses were old and in various stages of
disrepair. He imagined that half of them were empty or contained squatters.

He cut his
headlights off and cruised down the street with his foot off the gas. The
dilapidated condition of the neighborhood didn’t bother him. The residents in a
place like this weren’t the kind that would talk to cops. It didn’t matter if
they witnessed something. They would never admit to it. Alessandro could
appreciate that. He might even flip a hundred dollars to anyone he saw outside
when he left.

Extra
incentive.

He tapped his
brake as he passed the house. The front window was lit up. He saw three heads
turned toward a wide screen television. Two of the faces were out of view. The
one he could see led him to believe the man was stoned. He presumed the others
were, too. It was an assumption he’d have to ditch before entering the house.
Best to assume they were capable of putting up a good fight.

He pulled to
the curb, exited the vehicle, and cut across the lawn to the front door.
Alessandro didn’t bother knocking. He reached for the handle and turned it. Not
one of the men moved as he stepped into the foyer. He singled out the man most
likely to give him trouble. That man would be the first to die. The other two
were heavy, stoned, and looked like they’d move slowly. From his position, he
could kill all three before one got a hand on him.