The Assassin's Trail (18 page)

San Francisco, CA

Tuesday

“I'm still not sure I understand why the FBI believes someone is planning to harm me, Agent Clark.” Congressman Roy Griffin stood in the foyer of his San Mateo, California home, his arms crossed over his chest and his head slightly tilted to one side.

“Sir, we feel our evidence is credible and prefer to error on the side of caution. As I said earlier, the threat may be directed toward Congresswoman Marlene Osborne and not you. Our evidence doesn’t specify which one of you is the target.”

Griffin nodded. “Marlene is a good person. We don't see eye to eye on a lot of issues, but she has the good of her constituents at heart.”

“I’m sure she does. We're having the same conversation with her today.”

“So, Agent Clark, how do you and the FBI plan to protect my family?”

***

Ortega found the house just before sunset. After cruising past, he parked his Jeep a half mile away and walked back to a house diagonally across the street. With the deepening twilight and a ten-foot tall California laurel, he could observe the congressman’s house without being seen. Considering the neighborhood and how rich Griffin was, the house was modest and tasteful. The structure was a two-story Colonial with a professionally landscaped yard of trees and foliage. Five minutes after he started watching the house, a black Chevrolet Suburban pulled into the driveway. Four men in suits emerged from the vehicle, two walked to the front door and the other two started walking around the house in opposite directions. The two men at the door entered the house after it opened.

Following their trek around the perimeter of the home, the two men in suits conferred with each other and took separate positions. Ortega watched as one man stood just outside the front door and made a cell phone call. The other stood behind the Suburban and directed his attention toward the street and the neighborhood.

Ortega frowned. How had the FBI discovered Griffin was a target? First they tracked him in St. Louis, now they were here even before he arrived. Had Billy been caught? Did he leave evidence behind in Denver? It was essential to find the leak and plug it immediately. He waited until it was completely dark before returning to the Jeep. Remembering a McDonalds advertising free Wi-Fi close to Griffin’s neighborhood, he accessed the internet after buying a Big Mac and fries. He needed to contact Billy.

***

Late Tuesday night, Charlie was monitoring the computers alone. Earlier in the evening, JR started nodding off while working at his computer. Charlie watched as he stood up from the desk, switched off the screen and walked up the stairs to the third floor. As usual, he didn’t say anything; he simply left.

His time spent with JR had been both stimulating and frustrating. JR was brilliant with computers, but not real patient with those of lesser abilities. Charlie was confident with his own skills, but once in a while, JR made him feel like a complete novice. So when JR was not around, Charlie was able to practice and review the techniques he was learning.

He was about to close everything down for the evening when one of their trip wires indicated Ortega was accessing the internet. Quickly following the steps outlined by JR, he identified the access point as the San Mateo area in California.

Kruger was in Portland, and Clark in San Mateo. He grabbed his phone and called Kruger. The call was answered immediately.

“Sean, Ortega just accessed the internet in San Mateo. He's after Griffin.”

“Damn.” He paused. “Let Ryan know. I'll head that way on the next shuttle. Thanks, Charlie, good work.”

***

Clark’s phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID while Griffin was explaining his itinerary to a San Francisco FBI agent. Excusing himself from the meeting, he answered the call as soon as he was out of Griffin's home office.

“Ryan, it’s Charlie. Ortega just accessed the internet there in San Mateo. I've called Sean, and he’s catching a flight as quickly as he can.”

Clark was silent for a few seconds.

“Okay, Charlie, pass the word to Seltzer. I'm going to ask for more teams on Griffin.”

As soon as he ended the call with Charlie, his phone vibrated again. It was Kruger. He accepted the call. “I just heard. When does your plane land?”

“Around midnight. I've already contacted the SAC in San Francisco and told him the situation. He's an old friend of mine and agreed to send an additional team to your location. You’ll have six agents to secure the property. Stay there and keep the congressman inside the house until I arrive.”

“Got it. See you in a few hours.”

***

Ortega was puzzled. Billy had responded faster than normal, he was still in Virginia, and his contact in Dallas was still online. He had not mentioned the presence of the FBI in his communications, just in case one of them had been compromised. Because neither asked him for details on his location or activities, he didn’t believe either of them were the leak.

The big question now was how the FBI knew about Griffin. His supply contacts didn’t know any details of the operation; they just supplied materials. They knew who he was, but not his location. Somehow the FBI was following his movements. One possibility might be his computer, but since he changed Wi-Fi locations all the time, it was not likely. But to be on the safe side, he would use his computer sparingly. If they were tracking his movements, it wouldn’t matter in a few days. The mission would be completed.

He searched Congressman Griffin's website and found no references to any appearances scheduled for California. The only announcement was his return to Washington on June 1st. A Google search on the congressman produced the same results, with no references to any public appearances or events. On the third page of the search, Ortega found a link to the obituary of the congressman's mother-in-law. Within the obituary was the mention of a public memorial service. The notice gave the location, the date and the time of the service. It was the opportunity he needed.

***

The congressman stood his ground.

“Agent Clark, I will not hide like a coward. I haven’t been in Congress long enough for someone to get mad enough to try and kill me. I can't and will not crawl into a hole just to avoid being out in public. My wife and I have a commitment to attend the service on Wednesday, and we will not break that commitment. Besides, I'm delivering a tribute to a great lady. She believed in me and I will not betray her trust. There will be no further discussion.”

“Yes, sir, I understand your commitment. If we can't convince you to cancel your appearance, then I would respectfully request your agreement for our teams to accompany you to the service. We’ll provide as much protection as possible.”

“You really believe there is a man out there trying to kill me, don't you?”

“Yes sir, I do. When my partner arrives, he’ll give you more details.

Griffin was silent for several moments. Looking at Clark, finally he said, “Okay, I'll cancel all my appointments, except the memorial service. It's important to my wife and me.”

“Thank you, sir. Hopefully we’ll be able to locate this individual before the service and you can go on without us. But until then, we have a better chance of protecting you if you limit your outside activities.”

The congressman stood, “I need to discuss this development with my wife. She hates Washington, D.C., with a passion and I’m sure this news will only reinforce her attitude.”

San Mateo, CA

Tuesday

As soon as Clark drove Kruger past Grace Cathedral, both men realized immediately they had a challenge facing them. The church was a traditional large metropolitan worship center surrounded by high rise apartments and office buildings. The cathedral’s main floor was twenty-five feet above street level with four levels of concrete steps ascending to the sanctuary doors. There were at least seven tall buildings within 600 yards, providing ample opportunities for sniper hides. Kruger didn't have the manpower, time or authority to check each one. His only hope was Ortega didn't know about the memorial service.

After walking around the church several times, they decided on a strategy and left to meet with Charlie Brewer, the Special Agent in Charge of San Francisco, and an old friend of Kruger's. After introducing Ryan Clark to Brewer, Kruger said, “I haven't seen you since your promotion, congratulations.”

Brewer shook Kruger's hand and said, “If I knew how busy I would be out here, I'm not sure I would have accepted. Understand you’re in line for the KC position.”

“A vicious rumor. Apparently Seltzer’s let his promotion go to his head.”

Brewer chuckled. “Yeah, he told me to encourage you to accept the promotion. Something about your new-found status as Director Stumpf’s wonder boy. I stopped listening when he said that.”

“Seltzer's delusional.” They both laughed, then Kruger grew serious. “Charlie, I need a favor.”

“I'll do what I can; what's up?”

“You're aware of the threat to Congressman Griffin, right?”

Brewer nodded.

“Well, he's the main speaker at a memorial service for his late mother-in-law tomorrow at Grace Cathedral. Even with the six agents you assigned us, I'm not sure we can protect him at such an exposed location. I could use a couple of snipers on the rooftops surrounding the church.”

“Well, I normally wouldn't hesitate, but all my guys are training in San Diego this week. How about the locals? The San Francisco PD has several excellent sniper teams. My guys say they're some of the best on the west coast.”

Kruger smiled. “I would really appreciate anything you could arrange. Getting him in and out of that church tomorrow will be tricky at best.”

“Let me make a phone call. I've had lunch with the police chief several times since I’ve been here. He seems to be someone who will work with us when needed.”

Brewer made the call while Kruger stepped out of Brewer’s office and called JR. When he answered, Kruger said, “Any updates on Ortega?”

“We haven’t seen any activity since last night, Sean. He accessed the internet three times around the San Mateo area utilizing a different Wi-Fi spot each time. He hasn’t established a pattern Charlie and I can determine, so it's hard to guess where he’s staying.”

“I was afraid of that. He's being cautious after St. Louis. We may have a problem tomorrow. I need to have as much information on him as possible. I’ll touch base with you later.” Kruger ended the call and stepped back into Brewer’s office just as he was returning the handset to the phone.

“My analysis of the Chief was correct,” Brewer said. “He's assigning three teams to assist you tomorrow around Grace Cathedral. He said they’ve practiced this scenario at the cathedral several times and know where to set up. I gave him your contact information and told him you were the agent in charge.”

Kruger nodded. “Thanks, Charlie. We might be taking unnecessary precautions, but I would rather be prepared.” He paused briefly and frowned. “What can you tell me about this Imam you guys are watching?”

Brewer chuckled. “Which one? We have several in the bay area on our watch list.”

“The recluse who all of a sudden started making house calls.”

“Oh, that one. I beefed up surveillance on him immediately after he started doing it.”

“Do you know what sparked his sudden interest in visitations?”

“We think it was a phone call he received last Thursday. The call was from a pay phone in Dallas.”

Kruger nodded. “I was told about the call. One of our suspects was in Dallas at the time.”

Brewer furrowed his brow. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“Politics. I wasn’t officially on the investigation. Wagner had me taken off after Dollar said I was interfering.”

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Brewer leaned back in his desk chair. “I won’t miss Wagner.” He was quiet for a few seconds. “The phone call was cryptic. The caller asked the Imam to send three individuals to help him.”

“Did he say when he needed them?”

Brewer straightened in his chair and started typing on his computer. “I can’t remember exactly; let me review the report.” He paused while he read something on the screen. “Looks like he said a week… which would be this Thursday. Why?”

Kruger didn’t answer right away. Finally, he shook his head. “Not sure, but keep your eyes and ears on this guy. Something is going on; I just can’t put a finger on it yet.” 

***

Several vacant apartments in and around Grace Cathedral were available. After driving around the neighborhood and checking the angles of the various buildings to the church, he decided to check on the listing for an apartment building at Sacramento and Cushman. If the vacant room offered a view of the church, its location would be perfect.

After parking several blocks away, he walked back to the entrance and checked with the building manager. As they took the elevator to the fourth floor, the man told him about all the amenities available to tenants of the building. Ortega nodded, not listening to him. Once inside he found the sliding glass door in the bedroom offered a direct line of sight view of Grace Cathedral. He turned back to the manager and said, “I'll take it. When can I move in?”

“Well, I'll need your first and last month’s rent, plus a $1,000 deposit. Once the background and credit check come back, you can move in.”

Ortega pulled out a roll of cash and handed the manager $5,000 in hundred dollar bills, which was a thousand dollars more than was needed. Ortega smiled, “I'd like to start moving in tonight. Would that be a problem?”

The manager stared at the cash, then looked at Ortega, smiled, and said, “Not a problem at all. I need a few forms filled out and the place is yours.”

By 9 p.m., Ortega had his equipment secured in the apartment. The view of Grace Cathedral with the sliding glass door open allowed him to place his Remington within the apartment without exposing the rifle to the outside. He scoped the distance at 457 yards, which was fine since he had sighted the Remington in at 500. Once the rifle was set up, he drove to a twenty-four-hour grocery store and bought beer, beef jerky, a frozen pizza, apples and a few bananas. No need for more. He'd be gone before noon tomorrow. He parked the Jeep several blocks away and positioned it so he could drive off as quickly as possible.

Once back in the apartment, he ate the pizza, drank two beers, settled down and catnapped until morning. His thoughts turned to the coming day’s events. Would he be alive this time tomorrow? If his plan worked out, he had a good chance. If he miscalculated, he'd be dead in less than twenty-four hours. It was a concept he had lived with for the last five years.

***

Wednesday

Kruger stared at the digital clock, 4 a.m. His body was still on Central Time, so it was 6 a.m. to him. Rolling over he tried to get back to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, he gave up. Sitting on the side of the bed, he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. How many more days before he retired? The weariness of constantly waking up in hotel rooms swept over him. He thought about calling Stephanie, but didn't want his dark mood to rub off on her.

After putting on a t-shirt and running pants, he walked down to the street outside the hotel and started his run. Hopefully the exercise would ease his mind and help him think. Running the hilly streets of San Francisco pushed Kruger to his limit. He ran until his legs felt like rubber, then staggered back to his hotel room. After a shower and several cups of coffee brewed in the room’s coffee machine, he called Clark.

“What time is it?” said a groggy voice.

“It's late, if you must know it's almost nine your normal time.”

“Why are you calling me? It’s six here in California. My alarm isn't set to go off for another thirty minutes.”

“Tough, get up and let's get going. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

“I quit. Now let me go back to sleep.”

Kruger chuckled and said, “Sorry, Ryan, put your suit on. We need to get going.”

Three hours later, after a quick breakfast, they arrived at Roy Griffin's home. While Kruger met with Congressman Griffin in his study, Clark briefed the FBI team on the memorial service.

Griffin argued with Kruger for thirty minutes about how extra precautions were unnecessary. Finally his patience exhausted, Kruger said to the congressman, “Let's assume I'm wrong, then nothing will happen. Everybody goes home safe. If I'm right, and we prevent any harm coming to you or your wife, everybody goes home safe.”

Griffin stared at Kruger, his head tilted slightly to the right. “I see your point, but it still seems like a waste of the FBI’s time.”

“I'll take the blame for wasting everybody’s time.”

The congressman smiled and said, “Okay, Agent, I'll cooperate.”

Kruger placed the congressman and his wife in the lead Suburban with Clark and the driver. He, a driver and two other FBI agents rode in the trail Suburban. Upon arriving at to the church, Kruger and two agents exited their vehicle and surrounded the lead Suburban. Kruger surveyed the various buildings, making sure the three sniper teams were on alert. Each team was scanning the area with binoculars and rifle scopes.

Once he was satisfied with the situation, he nodded to an agent standing by the rear passenger door, who opened it to allow Clark and the Griffins to emerge. The agents immediately surrounded the husband and wife, and hustled them up the concrete stairs into the cathedral.

***

Ortega observed Griffin and his wife exit the Suburban through his rifle scope. As the group hurried up the steps, he centered the scope on the back of the congressman’s head, allowed for a lead, and started squeezing the trigger. Suddenly one of the men in front of his target turned his head. It was the cop from St. Louis. Surprised, Ortega looked up from the scope. Before he could get back on target, the group disappeared through the sanctuary doors at the top of the steps. He raised his eye from the scope again and looked at the scene. Thinking through his options, Ortega decided the cleanest shot would be as they descended the steps after the ceremony.

How much did the FBI know? Rubbing the back of his neck, he stepped away from the rifle and stared at the cathedral door. Apparently the two agents from St. Louis were still tracking him. Unfortunate for them, if he had the opportunity, a few extra rounds would thank them for their diligence.

He glanced at his watch and decided he had at least an hour before he had to get back on the scope, maybe more. He almost drank one of the beers left from last night, but decided against it. He casually walked out onto the apartment’s balcony eating an apple. There was a SWAT team on top of a building three blocks to the east surveying the taller buildings. Two more teams could be easily seen, one on the roof of the building next door, and another on the roof of a building one block to right. That made a total of three teams. He was impressed, but it didn't matter. He would still make the shot.

The presence of the sniper teams altered his escape plan however. He'd have to leave the rifle and use the fire escape situated on the opposite side of the building. The Jeep was a short walk from the apartment building. Five minutes after making the shot, he’d be driving to the airport. Not enough time for anyone to figure out where it came from.

Putting on surgical gloves, he wiped the room for prints, including the Remington, scope and cartridges. Once that was done, it was time to settle behind the rifle and wait. The scope was centered on the stairs just below the entrance to the church. He had decided on the position while watching several other groups of people enter the church. The shot would be easier with the congressman walking down the stairs.

Fifteen minutes after noon, the doors of the cathedral opened and attendees started exiting the church. Twenty minutes later all was quiet as the last attendee’s walked down the stairs. Finally he noticed one of the FBI agents from St. Louis open the door and step out to survey the area. Both black Suburbans pulled up and parked in front of the church steps. The driver of the lead vehicle jumped out and opened the passenger doors, then immediately returned to his driver’s seat.

Once the vehicles were in position, the agent at the door nodded to someone behind him. The door opened further, and the congressman and his wife exited. One of the FBI agents from St. Louis was in front of Griffin and the other one was behind him. There were other agents on both sides. Ortega centered the crosshairs on the congressman's head, gave him a slight lead, took a breath, and applied pressure on the trigger as he exhaled.