The Third Coincidence (15 page)

Jack?”

“I get the same thing as the rest of you.”

Rachel kicked off her shoes. “Let’s get our focus back on catch- ing him. Millet and I stayed late last night. We’re organized. Before we quit today, we should have a decent guess at how big a list of air passengers we’re going to end up with.”

“I’ve got good news,” Jack said. “Frank and Nora found a witness at the Resort at Depoe Bay, Oregon, one the locals didn’t have. There was a gardener working in some shrubbery about seventy-five yards away at the corner of the parking lot. He saw a van drive up and park. A man got out with flowers and headed up the path toward the honeymoon cottage. The gardener described him as white, medium height, about thirty years of age, an average build, wearing a red base- ball cap. The gardener remembered the cap matched the roses.”

the third coincidence 111

“Did he see his face?” Colin asked.

“No. When the deliveryman came back, he had the flowers in front of his face.”

“He brought the flowers back?” Nora asked.

“Odd, isn’t it. But the gardener was sure. The delivery guy brought the flowers back with him, and no flowers were found in the cottage.”

“What about the van?” Rachel asked.

“No company name and the gardener did not know the make. He only remembered a dark color and that it was quite new. The front desk had no knowledge of the flower delivery.”

Jack glanced down at the notes he had taken while he had talked with Frank. “Neither the victims’ families nor their office staffs knew who sent the flowers. Nora found a florist in Newport a few miles south of the resort that made a sale of two dozen red roses arranged in a vase. A man picked them up. The clerk’s general description agreed with the gardener’s. The buyer came in at closing time and the store was busy. He doesn’t really remember the guy. Millet checked the statistics from the Florist Association and learned the overwhelming majority of flower purchases are paid with a credit card. This buyer paid cash. It doesn’t give us much, but at least the guy’s not invisible.”

Rachel turned to Millet. “We need to concentrate on flights out of West Coast airports. Ask each airport’s security and the local po- lice about abandoned dark vans. We can start with the airport in Portland, Oregon.”

Jack pulled close a map of Oregon, found Depoe Bay, and ran his finger first to the north and then to the south.

“Start with the airports in the San Francisco area and work north.”

“Why start with the airport that’s farthest away?” Rachel asked. “Not because it’s farthest away, but because it’s to the south. For

now, let’s assume the flower buyer in Newport and the deliveryman at the resort was our man. If he had been coming from the Portland

112 David M. Bishop

Airport, he would likely have used a florist in Lincoln City to the north of Depoe Bay. But he bought the roses south of the resort.”

Rachel shook her head easily and smiled, obviously impressed with Jack’s perception.

“We believe LW has preceded each of his killings with thorough surveillance,” Jack continued. “The Breens had planned to honey- moon in Hawaii. Their D.C. security detail stayed with them until they went through airport security. The FBI office in Hawaii had agents at the airport on Maui. When the Breens didn’t show, Hawaii informed the bureau who learned of their flight to Oregon and began tracking from there. About that same time the locals in Depoe Bay ID’d the Breens and called it in.”

“Why would Breen mislead the FBI?” Millet asked.

“We can’t know for certain,” Jack said. “Perhaps to get away and be alone. Avoid the local media. Probably figured it would be more romantic. That if they told no one, not even the FBI, and didn’t use Justice Breen’s name or position they’d be safe by being anonymous. Truth is, judges are rarely recognized anywhere.”

“But somehow LW tracked them,” Nora said.

“Mrs. Breen’s mother, Mrs. Ashcroft, told the bureau her daugh- ter informed her about Oregon by e-mail a week before the wedding and swore her to secrecy.” Jack went on. “Both the mother and father insist they told no one. That e-mail had to be the
how
LW knew. LW or someone in his militia must be a skilled hacker.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said an inpatient Millet, running his fingers through his already tousled hair. “We get all that, but how does that make you give priority to the airports around San Francisco?”

Jack swivelled his chair to face Millet. “We’ve reasoned that LW did surveillance on all his targets, so he had a San Francisco plan for William Powers, the Fed governor from that district. His plan for Powers likely included getting in and out of Frisco.”

“So he used Frisco.” Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Even though it meant he had to drive to Oregon. Hey. Wait a minute. He sent his

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communiqué with FedEx in Redding, California, which he could pass through on the way back to San Francisco.”

“Correct. But don’t fall in love with it,” Jack cautioned. “It’s still an educated guess. I just don’t see him leaving the place he had re- searched, San Francisco, to go through an area he probably had not researched, Portland. How do you guys react to this?”

“It’s full of supposition,” Colin said, “but hey, we got nothing better.”

Rachel pushed back her chair. “Let’s get on it.”

There was, Jack realized, a refreshed sense of urgency in Rachel’s manner. And why not? She had become a target of LW’s twisted mind.

Jack put up his hand. “If it isn’t looking right as you proceed, drop it, Millet.” Then Jack moved his attention to Colin. “What’s the latest on the lists of violent military people and agents?”

“I spoke to the agencies an hour ago. They said tonight.” “That’ll have to do,” Jack muttered. “Hey, Millet. Can you work

without Rachel?”

Millet shrugged. “It’ll add some hours.”

“Understood. You’re flying solo today then, at least for a while.” “Then leave me alone.” Millet abruptly turned and walked to-

ward his desk.

Jack looked at Rachel. “I’m sorry about . . . you know, having to discuss your bra and—”

“No sweat. Now, what do you want me doing?”

“Get with that great profiler lady at the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit. I want you, her, and the best here at the CIA to put your heads together and get us a preliminary psychological and physical profile of LW.”

chapter 25

A
Wall Street Journal
article refers to Jack McCall as a shadowy figure of international intrigue.

—Mel Carsten, D.C. Talk, June 12

From an article in the
Wall Street Journal
, June 12:

The first account, albeit it unofficial, states that a young McCall, after several years of Middle East postings, worked as the middleman between President-elect Ronald Reagan and a spokesman for the Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini who led the overthrow of then Iranian shah, Mohammad Reza Pahlavi. The sixty-six American hostages at the U.S. Embassy in Tehran were released twenty minutes after President Ronald Reagan finished his inaugural address to the nation. McCall’s rumored role in that quick release has never been confirmed.

The official records show McCall played an active role in formulating the plan for the possible removal of American

the third coincidence 115

personnel from the U.S. Embassy in Kuwait, following Saddam Hussein’s invasion of that country.

In 1994, several years after al-Qaeda’s failed attempt to blow up the World Trade Center in New York, McCall was the on-the-ground leader in a covert operation reported to have corralled Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan. The mis- sion ended after the Taliban-ruled Afghan government pub- licly disclosed the planned American effort, demanding that

U.S. troops be withdrawn from their soil.

In the mid-to-late 1990s, McCall functioned as the liai- son officer for George Tenet, the director of Central Intelli- gence, in his dealings with Saudi Arabia’s Intelligence director, Prince Turki al-Faisal. During those years the Saudi government’s intelligence agency tried unsuccessfully to cap- ture Osama bin Laden.

Jack McCall is rumored to have led a failed black oper- ation in 2000, undertaken to bring back proof of Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction. That failure led to the establishment of a board of inquiry to determine whether or not McCall had been culpable in the failure. Two men died in the fiasco, including McCall’s younger brother, Nick. The board cleared McCall of all charges. The findings of that board concluded that the failure resulted from a leak traced to an intelligence officer in a Middle East country that had agreed to let the American force use its soil to stage the operation. After the hearing ended, McCall requested and received a sixty-day bereavement leave of absence. During that time, our sources report that the foreign officer who be- trayed the operation was found dead.

“We’ll be landing at Cleveland’s Hopkins Airport in ten min- utes,” the Air Force captain announced. “Please fasten your seat belts low and tight across your middle and return your tray tables to their full upright and locked positions. We know you have a choice when

116 David M. Bishop

you travel, so we thank you for flying with your United States Air Force.”

During the flight, both Frank and Nora had remained in the foggy void between sleep and wakefulness. Before deplaning, Nora asked the pilot to keep his cell phone on so she could call him when they were ready to leave.

A tall, thin man with a sharply receding hairline waited on the tarmac while Nora descended the stairs. After looking her up and down, his gaze roosted on her chest.

“I’m Lieutenant Wes Hamilton, Cleveland PD, homicide. You Sergeant Nora Burke?”

“Yes.”

Nora briskly introduced Hamilton to her linebacker-sized part- ner. “This is Lieutenant Frank Wade.” When they got to Hamilton’s car, she made certain that Frank got in the front seat with the Cleve- land lieutenant.

“So, how’d you two get stuck working with the feds?” Hamilton asked looking back over the seat.

“Just lucky, I guess,” she answered without bothering to mask her irritation. “Let’s talk about your investigation into the death of Charles Taylor and his family.”

Hamilton eyed her in the rearview mirror. “Whenever you two’re ready,” he replied. “The chief said to give you our full cooperation.” “I faxed you the FBI report,” Nora said. “Assuming you read it,

did you disagree with anything you saw in it?”

Hamilton shrugged. “No. We agreed with the FBI. The killer used plastic explosive.”

“Have you come up with anything further?” Frank asked.

“We backed off when Special Agent Rex Smith got here,” Hamil- ton told him. “We figured the feds had it and, hey, we got plenty of our own.”

“What had you done before the FBI arrived?” Nora asked. Hamilton’s voice turned stern. “Sergeant Art Benson and I

the third coincidence 117

started canvassing the neighborhood. Bottom line, nobody saw noth- ing before they heard the blast. Benson should be there waiting.” After turning right, Hamilton told them they had just entered the Pepper Pike development.

Nora watched as they drove through an affluent neighborhood of gracious houses set back on well-groomed lawns. A moment later, Hamilton slowed the car in front of a yard scattered with fallen de- bris, a blackened chimney standing vigil beside a charred hole.

“There’s Benson,” Hamilton said, pulling tight to the curb.

Sergeant Benson, as broad as Hamilton was tall, greeted them with an outstretched hand.

“I’m sure Lieutenant Hamilton told you he’d ordered a stop to our investigation when it became a federal case,” Benson told Frank. “We know that,” Frank said with an abrupt nod. “Please show us which houses you interviewed at before Lieutenant Hamilton

stopped the canvass.”

Hamilton put a hand on Benson’s arm, stifling his partner, and pointed a dirty fingernail. “We saw people at those two houses. They knew nothing,” Hamilton said, “but the man who lives over there told us that he was in bed and only heard the explosion, but that his wife had stayed up later. His old lady wasn’t home at the time we in- terviewed him.”

Frank pointed at the same house. “In that case, go interview the lady,” Frank said to Hamilton. “And then continue to the end of the street. Here’s my cell number. Call whenever you get something. Detective Benson, please do the same on the other side of the street.” “Where will you two be?” Hamilton demanded, clearly uncom-

fortable at having been put, so abruptly, in a subordinate position. “Sergeant Burke and I will be doing the same thing around the

corner on the side street and the next street over,” Frank answered, his voice now even.