Spy Catcher: The J.J. McCall Novels (Books 1-3) (The FBI Espionage Series) (49 page)

“What is it?” Six said.

“That’s it!” She reversed course and double-timed it back to the office, her mind distracted by the new stream of thoughts. “Oh my God, I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I think of it before?”

Six followed behind on her heels, quickening his steps to catch up.

“Think of what?”

“The search criteria. We couldn’t see the forest for the noses on our faces…or something like that.”

“I think you mixed your metaphors there.”

“J.J. asked me to focus on employees, and we did. Full-time government employees. We forgot one important group.”

She burst through the office door and zigzagged through the       labyrinth of cubicle spaces until she reached Walter’s desk.

“I figured it out. What we’re missing.”

He straightened his back and leaned against the chair. “Okay, what’d you come up with?”

“We were so focused on the key employees we forgot
the contractors.
There are only a few companies that are cleared to work at State and the White House. Let’s run a query to see if any contract employees worked in both places. Let me know what you come up with.”

“Good thinking,” Six said. “I see why J.J. holds you in such high regard.”

Sunnie grinned. “Ugh. Forgot I’ve got to pull a file for some Sheldon Vance guy…and somebody named Maddix Cooper.”

“Maddix Cooper. That should make for some interesting reading.”

“You know him?”

“Seen his name but I’ve never met him in person. You could say, he and I covered the same territory.”

Chapter 37

Late Wednesday Afternoon—The White House             

J.J., Tony, Gia exchanged disappointed glances. Edward Tomlin had stormed out of the interview. And for all they knew, he might never return…at least not without an attorney. It appeared this was one of the rare occasions when J.J. gambled and lost. Her stomach sunk. Had she calculated wrong?

“Well, this sucks,” J.J. said. “I was sure he wou—”

A noise at the door interrupted her impending capitulation. The doorknob twisted and Tomlin shuffled in, chin to chest. “Uhh…excuse me, can I come back inside?”

J.J.’s eyebrow arched. “Why? So you can waste some more of our time?”

“No. I remembered some details I, uhh, may have accidentally omitted some information if you’d be willing to ask me those questions again.”

He squeezed around J.J.’s chair and returned to the hot seat. Then he weaved his fingers together as if to pray and waited for the questioning to resume.

“Okay…let’s start with your wife. How’d you two
really
meet?”

“We met at a bar after work. Bunch of us got together and my friend Coop brought her over. She was gorgeous, most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. Of all the guys there she was into me.”

J.J. eyed his scruffy hair and basset hound mug. He had a face only PETA could love. The reasons why an exotic Russian beauty would fall for this guy were obvious—his security clearances, money, and a green card. 

“There was a non-fraternization policy. You weren’t supposed to date Russian nationals, correct?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“So, we understand you made the mistake. Did you report it to your security officer?”

“Nope,” he said. “Didn’t have to.”

Gia straightened her gait and leaned on the table. “Why? The policy is clearly specified.” 

“Coop. He introduced us. You know, Maddix Cooper—he was a security officer. CIA counterintelligence.”

J.J. sat back in her seat. “Really.”

“He was a real player, if you know what I’m sayin’. Worked hard, played harder. Knew all the night spots and all the hot women. Life of the party, you know the type. Didn’t mind bending the rules. Nature of being a spook, I guess.”

“So were you ever approached by Russian intelligence?”

He tightened his lips and lowered his eyes. “Yes. Once.”

“The incident’s not in your file. You didn’t report it?”

“Listen, Irina invites me to her place, for…well, you know. Anyway, she takes me out on the balcony and tells me a man is coming and he will say he’s her uncle, but it’s not true. He’s no relation of hers.”

“So, she
warned
you?” J.J. said, her surprise obvious. “And she took you out on the balcony to avoid listening devices. She certainly knows how the Russians operate.” 

“Yeah. When I finally had a chance to think about the situation, it surprised me, too. Later I found out the ‘uncle’ was an FSB officer. You know, like one of you guys but only Russian.”

“Yeah, I know what the FSB is,” J.J. said. “Continue.”

“Well, she hated them because the old guard tortured her grandfather during the Soviet days. She sees Putin’s government as oppressive as it was during the Cold War,” he said. “Not long after she warned me, some hulking guy appears at the door. He doesn’t threaten me directly but suggests it’d be a shame if I was arrested and his people made a big splash in the papers. I refused and had resigned myself to quit and be recalled from Moscow.”

“Interesting. So you reported this to Mr. Cooper?”

“Yeah. Bright and early the next day. He thanked me for reporting it, said he felt bad for introducing her to me in the first place. He then promised to make it go away. And he did.”

His revelation took some air out of the room…and J.J.

Clearly, Maddix Cooper was dirty. But was he a Paper Doll? Or was he the real mole?

“Well, I appreciate your candor. We’re finished for now, but we’ll contact you if we need to follow up.”

He thanked J.J. for her understanding and left the room. They took a moment to process what happened. An employee had just told them a security officer encouraged him to break the rules and then covered for him.

“Well, the second time around was a charm. Enlightening.”

“How do you do that?” Tony asked looking at J.J. curiously.

Gia frowned, her face green with envy at Tony’s unintended show of admiration.

“I told you…it’s a gift.” She glanced at Gia and cleared her throat. “Well I, for one, don’t think I can take another interview today. Gia, if you don’t mind stepping out for a second? I need to discuss a few things with Tony in private. Bureau business.”

Gia eyed Tony and disappeared into the adjacent room, closing the door behind her.

“Interesting, huh?” J.J. said. “We have to ask ourselves why a security officer, a counterintelligence officer, would hook-up a cleared military attaché with a Russian woman, knowing it would break the no-frat policy, not to mention every security policy ever written.”

“Either he’s dirty, or he’s an idiot.”

“Let’s see, he was serving as a CIA security officer in Moscow. Idiot is definitely not off the table.” J.J. said. “Speaking of Six, he should know Mr. Cooper. Russia House isn’t very big.”

“Yeah, he’s also Kendel’s ex,” Tony said. “Maybe his ‘activities’ had something to do with their break-up. Seems like we’ve got more poking around to do.”

Tony laughed, stood up, and opened the door for J.J. When she stepped out of the conference room and into the office area, she ran smack into Kendel, who was waiting to escort them out.

“Long day. Are we ready to go?” Kendel asked.

Everyone nodded and followed her lead.

“You guys unearth anything interesting today?”

“Tomlin was quite informative,” J.J. said. “But I was wondering when Maddix Cooper is expected to return.”

Kendel began to fidget with the badge dangling from the chain around her neck. “He’s taking some much-needed time away.”

“I see,” J.J. said, feeling a slight sensation behind her left ear.
Still lying.
Kendel continued to dig a deeper hole of deception, and J.J. was no closer to the truth than when she started. The vision of paper dolls danced in J.J.’s head and made it ache.

The second she cleared the West Wing entrance, J.J. retrieved her phone from her purse and dialed Headquarters. She needed answers and at this stage there was only one place to get them.

“Did you find any intel on Maddix Cooper?” J.J. asked Sunnie.

“Not yet but I found a new angle on that query against the entry and exit records,” Sunnie said. “I think I’m onto something.”

Chapter 38

Thursday Morning—Surveillance Detail

Hopper Mack’s stomach roiled as he dragged his hands down the length of his jeans from his thighs to his knees, drying the clamminess. He then chewed his last remaining nail while pacing the floor, a ritual he’d performed at least nine times since he arrived that morning. He had a lot at stake, his professional reputation, his career, his sanity.

His gut instinct had ruled him for so long that he didn’t know how to shut it down and think through the consequences of his actions.

Some called it genius, other called it recklessness. A whole lot of people would call it the reason he got canned if the Russians swept Mikhaylov’s car and yanked out the last GPS unit. In one fell swoop, he may have wrecked the single chance the Bureau had to find Lana before she killed another agent and absconded to Moscow.

Before Hopper could return to his seat, Kyle straggled in bearing his trademark snarl and two steaming cups in his hand.

“Have a seat and drink this,” Kyle grumbled. “It’ll take the edge off.”

Hopper waved in refusal. “Coffee gives me the jitters. No, thanks.”

“Well, today’s your lucky day. It’s not coffee.”

Hopper held the cup to his face and sniffed. His nose wrinkled. “What is this…hair of the dog? Eye of newt? Hot arsenic?”

Kyle chuckled. “You should be so lucky. It’s tea. Zen. It’ll help calm you down. Give you something to do with your mouth other than bite your nails to the nub.” Kyle’s eyes darted around the room, finally locking on the radio sitting silently at the end of the conference table. “Got a call from my confidential informant last night. Still no takers on the passport but I’m holding out ho— Something wrong with the radio?”

Other than the fact that I didn’t turn it on? No,” Hopper replied. “I couldn’t stand to listen. The wait is killing me. Thought you’d leave the room long enough for me to catch the tail end.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, stood up and stretched his arm to the edge the table until his palm wrapped around the unit. “Look on the bright side, Junior.” He flipped the switch to the “on” position. “Things always get worse before they’re completely shot to hell. You’ve still got a little further to fall.”

Hopper shook his head in disbelief, thankful he wasn’t suicidal.

“Boot up the computer and let’s get the tracker up.”

A few pressed switches on the projector and a Web browser appeared on the wall screen. Hopper’s fingers tapped against the keyboard until a map of the perimeter of the Russian Embassy appeared. He stared at the arrow.

“Still in the compound,” Kyle said.

Before the momentary distraction ceased and the tension kicked back in, Jazz’s voice boomed through the radio. “Heads up, Blue Team. Rabbit 1 is approaching the gate. Repeat, Rabbit 1 is approaching the gate. I’ve got the eye.”

“It’s Filchenko,” Kyle said. “Shouldn’t be long now before we know your fate.”

Hopper locked his eyes on the red arrow, his heart thumping like rapid succession sonic booms. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. He sat paralyzed, waiting for the moment the Gs would call out Lana’s father’s car. “It’s not moving. It’s not moving. He usually leaves right on Filchenko’s bumper,” he said in despair.

“Relax. Give it a minute. The lookouts haven’t called him out yet.”

The radio fell silent. The sound of static filled the room.

Minutes later, the radio popped.

“Rabbit 2 is slowly approaching the gate,” Jiggy said. “Rabbit 2 is slowly approaching the gate.

“The arrow’s not moving!” Hopper yelled as he crumbled into a pool of anxiety. “Fuck!”

He blew his big chance. His career was over before it began. Nobody would ever trust him to run an op again. Even if they didn’t immediately fire him, they’d probably treat him as if they had. His gut had steered him wrong and he had no one to blame except his stubborn, hard-headed self. He ribbed his fingers through his hair and stared at his feet until his vision blurred. “I can’t believe this shit!”

“Look!” Kyle yelled, pointing at the screen.

Hopper looked up and inhaled until the air filled his lungs to capacity. The arrow moved toward Wisconsin Avenue. “Yes!” He smacked his fist into the other hand in a loud pop before placing his hand over his chest. Within seconds, his breathing slowed. “Whew! That was close!”

Kyle patted his shoulder. “You must’ve put on one helluva a performance, Junior. Not many could pull one over on Mikhaylov. He’s damn good.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “We’re getting close to Michaels. I can feel it.”

“We’ll know by the end of the day.”

Kyle palmed the radio and called out, “Jiggy, this is Blue Leader. The tracker’s working. Pull it up on your iPhone. When he goes aggressive, hang back. We need to give him some time in the black so he’ll make the drop.”

“If he makes a move, I’m on him,” Jiggy said. “Time to focus. I’m out.”

Hopper stood up and grabbed his tea from the table. “I need coffee now.”

Kyle shut down the computer and the screen went dark. “Get it to go. We’ve got work to do.”

“I thought we were gonna monitor the op today.”

“We’ve got more important matters to attend to than playing watch the arrow,” Kyle said, waiting for Hopper to follow him to the door. “Grab your radio and we’ll get on the road. I want to finish up these interviews before the end of the week.”

“The end of the week is tomorrow.”

“Exactly,” Kyle said. “We’ve been sidetracked too long. I’ve still got a couple of addresses on Kenyon to hit before we finish up at Irving Street.”

“What if she left the area?”

“Then we find someplace else to search. We’re closing the walls in on all sides and we need to keep bringing the heat. I want her to feel claustrophobic from the pressure. That’s when she’ll make her biggest mistake.”