Operation Mockingbird (21 page)

A small rustic café in the middle of Everglades National Park suited their purposes. They stuck with small talk while they waited for their food. For thirty minutes they exchanged relatively benign stories about their childhoods and college years as they devoured the mediocre burgers. Matt wasn’t particularly interested in talking about the events of the last couple of days and the seemingly impossible enterprise on which they were about to embark. Fortunately, Alex didn’t seem inclined to rehash those matters either. Matt was in the middle of what he regarded as a particularly charming anecdote about sixteen-year-old Megan Tincher, his first love, when he noticed Alex’s eyes widen. She was looking at something behind him.

Matt turned around to see a grainy image of himself on the large television that was sitting on a shelf in the corner. Matt recognized the picture from one taken in the Middle East. His hair was longer and he had several days’ worth of beard growth on his face. It would be hard to take the Matt sitting there today for the same person. This picture was suddenly replaced with that of a youthful, clean-shaven Matt. The picture on his driver’s license. On the bottom of the screen, a banner silently screamed “Breaking News” and “Miami Murders.”

His stomach tightened when he saw the screen cut to a female reporter standing outside Keg South. The woman was young and beautiful. On her face was a look that resembled a cross between the naked ambition of a hungry reporter just catching her first big story and the shell-
shocked look of someone who had just witnessed something terrible. The volume was down so they couldn’t hear what she was saying. The camera panned to the crime scene investigators who were wheeling out two gurneys. Each had a black body bag on top.

Matt scanned the room. Several people at the bar were staring at the television. The couple at the next table was leaning into one another and speaking in hushed tones. Matt couldn’t make out what they were saying, but paranoia took over and he assumed the worst.

“I think I’d better head back to the room,” Matt said as he put on the baseball cap sitting on the seat next to him. “Why don’t you take care of the bill and see what you can find out.”

“Okay.” Alex replied as she pulled out her wallet. “I’ll meet you back there in a few minutes.”

He gathered his belongings, nodded to Alex and dropped his chin low as he headed out the door.

When Matt returned to the room, he locked the door and drew the blinds. He picked up the remote and powered on the television as he lowered himself into the chair by the bed. He flipped through the channels. It didn’t take long to find the local news.

The reporters were describing in dramatic detail the gruesome findings at Keg South and the deaths of two men. The anchors reported that a journalist by the name of Matt Connelly was wanted for questioning in connection with the murders. He was identified as a person of interest -- not a suspect, although Matt had generally found the
distinction between the two to be a matter of time. He sat there for several minutes listening to the limited details provided about the murders of his two friends. Soon the reporters were simply repeating the same information over and over.

Matt stripped off his clothes as he headed for the shower. He turned the dial hard to the left, flinching when the water practically scalded his body. Facing the shower head with both palms pressed against the wall, he leaned in to the torrent coming from the shower head. His head fell down and the hot water cascaded over Matt, drenching his bowed head and plastering his hair to his face. Finally, he tilted his head up and felt the hot water sting his face before pouring down his body. His face burned from the assault. With his eyes squeezed shut, he struggled to shut out the images of Dan, Patrick, Stephen and even Aamir that were swimming before him.

He lifted his head weakly when he heard the bathroom door open. He hadn’t heard anyone enter the motel room. He turned just in time to see Alex walk into the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her. Without a word, she dropped the towel and slipped into the shower behind him. The sight of her naked body was all too fleeting.

“Alex,” he began.

“Shhhh,” she interrupted as she stepped in close behind him.

With a slight pressure on his right shoulder she gently turned him back to face the wall. She reached past him and adjusted the temperature to something more bearable. As she did, he felt her breasts brush lightly against his back.

“I’ve got your back,” she said softly from behind as she reached for the soap sitting on the shelf affixed to the wall in front of Matt. Again, her breasts made an agonizingly brief contact with his back.

He held his breath as he waited for her next move. He didn’t have to wait long. Her soapy hands were gentle on his back. She expertly massaged his back and shoulders before moving lower. With her palms resting on either side of his waist, she pressed her thumbs deeply into the small of his back.

She hesitated briefly before her hands moved around his hips and to his stomach. Matt shuddered. Still without saying a word, Alex stepped forward and pressed her body against his. One hand slid across his abdomen. He could feel Alex’s full breasts against his back as she pressed deeper into him. Her other hand moved lower. A small groan escaped his lips.

Matt slowly turned around and looked at her. Her wet hair ran in shiny dark sheets down her face and covered her shoulders. Water droplets ran down her neck and chest. She opened her eyes. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, tentatively at first and then more deeply.

Desperate to escape the madness of the last few days, he pressed against her. He pushed his tongue deeply into her mouth. He felt her hands against his back. He moved one hand down her body and to her back. With his hand on her lower back he pulled her closer. With his other hand, he cradled her head as he took two steps forward, pushing her back against the wall.

She was returning his kisses hungrily, her hands pressing deeply into his back. She lifted one leg around his hip, welcoming him, begging him to come closer.

Not taking his mouth from hers, Matt reached out and slid the shower door open. He stepped out first and then pulled her with him. She followed him as he guided her to the bed.

Later, Alex and Matt lay in bed watching the shadows cast by the moonlight that peeked through the blinds. The red numbers from the clock shed the only other light in the room. The bed sheets covered their feet and nothing else. Alex’s head rested comfortably on his chest, her body pressed against his side, her right leg stretched languidly across him. With the index finger of her right hand, Alex absently traced circles and figure eights on his chest. His right hand rested on her hip while his other hand gently stroked her arm.

“What are you thinking, Matt?” she asked.

“I was actually thinking about Commissioner Suarez,” he responded.

“What?” She playfully pinched him.

“I assume you wanted the truth,” he replied.

“Okay, what’s the deal with you and this guy?” she asked.

He described Commissioner Suarez, his hard-partying past and the rumors that he had made his money by associating with some very unsavory people. Matt explained that the commissioner’s real estate development projects were fraught with complaints about shoddy workmanship,
undocumented day laborers working for below minimum wage and worse. Yet the commissioner’s company was able to obtain with little difficulty all the zoning and building permits and approvals needed to move these projects along.

He described the commissioner’s run for county office and then the seemingly unchecked political power that he had been able to amass, despite his questionable reputation and history. Alex laughed softly when he got to the part about Matt’s public run-in with the commissioner at the charity event.

“And this man has the power to jeopardize your career?”

He explained the commissioner’s sphere of influence within the local Latin American community as well as the national star power of the commissioner’s brother who was a member of the Senate Intelligence Committee and one of the most promising Hispanic leaders in Congress. Both men were Cuban-American Democrats in a state with a significant Hispanic population, a state that had proven itself critical to any national political election. The commissioner’s brother was considered by most to be the Democrats’ only chance at securing Florida in the next Presidential election.

“That’s one of the reasons I’ve been so reluctant to go to the police about what’s going on,” Matt explained. “I am a prime target for Suarez, and he has the local police on his side. Once the commissioner and his brother hear about my involvement, especially with allegations against another high-profile and highly connected corporation that contributes so significantly to our local tax base, the
commissioner, his brother and all of the minions at their disposal are going to be coming at me with guns loaded. So I know that I better be damn sure about the facts before I go to the police.”

“But, what then, Matt? Assuming we are able to get some proof and expose the truth, what are you going to do about these brothers From what you tell me, it seems like you’ll always have these guys threatening your career?”

“Well, it would be nice to expose the commissioner for what he really is, but I tried that and it didn’t work out so well for me,” Matt conceded. “So, second option -- since I do really like living in sunny South Florida – is to stay under the radar with him and play nice, at least until I have something really concrete.”

“I see,” Alex said as she sat up, pulling the sheet up with her to cover her body.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Well, speaking of making nice ...” she said as she let the sheet fall down around her and began to lower herself toward him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

MATT AND ALEX DEBATED late into the evening whether they should show up for their appointment at Protegere. The news bulletins had only indicated Matt was a person of interest and wanted for questioning. There was no mention of a warrant out for his arrest or even of Matt being a suspect in the murders. Matt and Alex figured that even if the guards did run his name through some database of convicted felons or wanted criminals it was possible that nothing would come up.

And it was Sunday, Matt reasoned. The compound would probably not be fully staffed, and the guys assigned to the weekend detail probably watched more
Dog: The Bounty Hunter
reruns than local news. At least that’s what Matt and Alex hoped when they ultimately decided they would just show up at the designated time for their appointment.

They had to travel several more miles through the Everglades to reach the compound in the middle of the
swamplands. The facility was strategically located in this remote location in order to allow Protegere to train its employees and law enforcement professionals far from prying eyes. It had long been speculated that the relationships with these government agencies had enabled the company to avoid the otherwise strict regulations associated with operating a large commercial enterprise in the federally protected National Everglades.

From the front of the facility it was difficult to see what lay beyond. They pulled up at a guardhouse made of concrete block squatting solidly at the entrance to the compound. A dense fichus hedge at least fifteen feet high spanned one-quarter mile across either side of the guard station. Matt noticed a solid-looking metal gate behind the foliage that seemed to cover the entire perimeter. The metal gate was topped by concertina wire, with Xenon Stadium lights perched above.

Four men were stationed at the entrance. They were dressed uniformly in black T-shirts, green fatigue-style pants and black boots. Their haircuts were short and Matt could make out security earpieces in place. They all wore wraparound sunglasses. Three of the men had goatees; the youngest was clean shaven. They all carried lightweight machine guns. A guard approached the window and instructed Matt where to park. It was clear that Matt would not be permitted to drive the car into the compound.

They parked and walked over to stand in front of the guard station, separated from the man inside by a very thick glass partition with a slot to pass papers back and forth. They had to present two forms of identification, provide
their social security numbers and then wait. And wait. Eventually, one of the men standing outside walked over, opened a metal gate and gestured them through the entrance. Once inside, another guard approached them with a large handheld security scanner.

This guard instructed Matt to remove the contents of his pockets and the messenger bag he had strapped across his shoulder. After a slow and thorough search, the guard set aside the cell phone and Swiss Army knife and told Matt he could retrieve them on the way out. He instructed Matt to place his feet wide apart and extend his arms to his sides. He passed the scanner first in front of Matt’s face and neck and then above and below each arm. He scanned Matt’s front beginning with his chest. The scanner beeped when it passed Matt’s belt buckle. The guard paused, briefly inspected the belt buckle and continued down the front of Matt’s body. He then scanned on either side of Matt’s legs before instructing Matt to turn around and then followed the same process from the rear.

He instructed Matt to move to the side and motioned for Alex to move forward to the spot Matt had just left. After following the same procedure with Alex, the guard told Alex she would not be permitted to take pictures except with the express approval of their guide and that the camera, including memory card, would be inspected prior to her departure. If she violated this rule, the camera and the memory card would be destroyed.

Finally, temporary badges, color-coded to reflect their clearance level and stamped with an expiration date and time, were issued. The tags indicated they would be
permitted to stay on the premises exactly two hours from their designated appointment time. They were instructed not to take off their interactive tags. If they did, the tour would immediately end and they would be ejected from the premises.