Whack Job (8 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Optical Illusion”

Otto sent the images with gleams to Alvarez, pushed himself away from the desk, and went to the door. Steve followed at his heel. They went down the hall to the bullpen where Alvarez huddled in his cubicle intent on the monitor, which displayed scrolling numbers. Otto stood silently as Steve thrust his snout over Alvarez’ thigh. Alvarez looked down in surprise, then back at Otto. Alvarez removed a set of minute headphones.

“Gus, you’ve seen the Froines and Albrecht videos.”

“We’ve all seen them.”

“Did you notice a tiny gleam next to the heads of both victims?”

Alvarez stared. “No. Can you show me?”

“It’s in your inbox.”

Otto waited while Alvarez opened the file. He stared at it a long time before painting to what might very well have been digital interference. “That?”

“Yeah.”

“It could be any number of things. A drop of sweat.”

“I thought so too. There’s one in the Froines’ video as well.”

“Could be electronic interference, resistance, an impure chip.”

“Both parties? At more or less the same time in each sequence? Do you have videos of any of the others?”

“The Russians have one. We’re trying to get it.”

“Might be interesting to see if that one has it too.”

“I’ll see what I can do to isolate that image, run some tests. Where did you study arson investigation?”

“I was a volunteer fireman when I was a kid. Then I was an MP at Fort Bragg. We had a series of arsons--mostly outbuildings, and I caught the guy. Pure luck. Naturally the Army assumed I was an expert.”

Alvarez swiveled his chair and indicated a chair in the corner. Otto sat. Alvarez took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“How did you catch him?”

“First one was a storage locker. Burned to the ground. I could tell the fire had been started inside by the carbon on the inside walls. Figured he piled up a bunch of rags, doused them with gasoline, tossed in a cigarette and ran like hell.

“I was the first one there so I caught the job. That’s the way the Army works. ‘Son, from now on you’re an arson investigator!’ I started going through personnel files looking at criminal records. Technically, you can’t join up if you have a record but we know how well that turned out.

“Week later, second fire. A gardening shed behind the base commander’s house. This time the fire was set from the outside. Looked like ’he had walked the perimeter with an accelerant. But how did he set it off? I found a stain in the grass that looked like a long cigarette burn--like someone had set down a fuse and lit it.

“But it was all burnt up. Didn’t know what it was. No cigarette butt, no matchbook, nada. A few days later another fire. Now he’s reducing the period between episodes and we’re getting worried that he might be building up to something. This was pre-9/11, year 2000.

“This one’s on the obstacle course. He lit the Weaver, which is kind of like a wooden jungle gym, and there’s that same black scar on a portion of timber. Only this time, it didn’t entirely burn. Left a hardened clearish lump. I scratched it. Smelled like Testors’ plastic model cement. I know about that shit because I’ve been a model builder all my life. I remembered seeing an issue of
Military Modeler
at the base PO. Only one guy on base gets it. Private Dennis Pratt. AWOL. We put out a bulletin.

“Month later he burns down a warehouse in San Diego with him in it. I was just in the right place at the right time. And that’s how I became an arson investigator.”

Alvarez grinned. The Army’s funny that way. Let me take a look at these videos.”

Otto stood. “Thanks, Gus. Let’s go big fella.”

Otto and Steve stepped into the hall. A couple agents waved at Otto.

“Nice dog,” one said.

Otto and Steve left the bullpen and turned left toward their office. Behind them the elevator door dinged open. Otto was about to swipe his key card.

“Excuse me,” a voice rang out in the slightly querulous tone of someone who suspects malfeasance. Otto ignored it.

“Excuse me, sir,” the man said approaching. Otto looked up.

Stared.

The man stared back equally incredulous.

“Hornbuckle?” Otto said.

“White?” Hornbuckle croaked.

***

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Misunderstanding”

Wednesday afternoon.

Hornbuckle pasted a smile across his mug and stuck out his hand. “Good to see you. I’d heard you’d retired.” It was the same pale white skull, wide-set eyes and razor slash mouth. Some guys shave their skulls they look like an uncooked muffin. Others looked designed that way. Hornbuckle was of the latter.

Otto gaped. Steve growled. No one had ever said a word to him about whether any of the other members of the team had survived. When he asked, they told him it was need to know. Otto made his own inquiries, all of which led nowhere. The Agency would not confirm or deny Hornbuckle’s death.

And he pops up here in the middle of an SHC investigation? Otto didn’t believe in coincidence.

“Have you been recalled?” Hornbuckle said still gripping Otto’s hand.

“I’m working on a national security matter with the Feds. Why did you hail me just now?”

Hornbuckle released Otto’s hand and half-covered his involuntary smile. “You look remarkably like Top Ten hacker Randall Kleiser.”

“How long have you been with the Denver FBI?” Otto said. “What happened to you after the mission?”

Why did you leave the room?
“Why don’t you and me get together for a drink at five? Is this your office? I’ll stop by.”

“Sure,” Otto said. What the hell.

“Nice dog,” Hornbuckle said backing away.

Otto went into his office, shut the door and phoned Alvarez.

“Gus, could you come down here a minute?”

Seconds later Alvarez knocked and entered. He took the spare chair and petted Steve who laid his head on the agent’s knee. “What’s up?”

“Do you know Agent Hornbuckle?”

“Not well. He’s only been here a month. He’s in charge of the cyber-tracking unit. Why?”

“He was on my last mission. We went in to tap Ghaddafi. I always thought the mission was FUBAR, the way they threw it together. Do you know what happened?”

“I’ve read the reports. You witnessed an SHC.”

“Nice of you to say so. That’s what led to the medical discharge. At that time somebody in the agency had to know about the combustions. They should have listened to me.”

“We’re listening to you now. What about Hornbuckle? Something queer there?”

“Once I mustered out I tried to find him. The Agency wouldn’t tell me if he were alive or dead. He and I are the only survivors of that mission and he shows up here? Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

“Nothing strikes me as odd. As long as Hornbuckle has a higher security clearance there’s nothing we can do about it. I see a lot of guys like Hornbuckle. Close-lipped, uptight. Doesn’t mean he’s sketchy. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

Otto felt foolish. Hornbuckle was probably legit. Well he’d find out.

“Sorry to bother you, Gus.”

“No bother. Bunch of the guys are meeting up at six at the Irish Public House.”

“I’m meeting Hornbuckle but maybe I’ll see you.”

Alvarez returned to his office. Otto watched the videos again. Each time the conflagrations appeared more divorced from time and space, otherworldly in their intensity. He felt the beginning of a headache and turned away from the computer to rub his temples.

Back to the glass teat.

FIRST IRISH CASE OF DEATH BY SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION

(Sep. 23, 2011)

A man who burned to death in his home died as a result of spontaneous combustion, an Irish coroner has ruled. It is believed to be the first case of its kind in Ireland. West Galway coroner Dr Ciaran McLoughlin said it was the first time in 25 years of investigating deaths that he had recorded such a verdict. Michael Faherty, 76, died at his home at Clareview Park, Ballybane, Galway on 22 December 2010.

Deaths attributed by some to ‘spontaneous combustion’ are when a living human body burns without an apparent external source of ignition. Typically police or fire investigators find burned corpses but no burned furniture. An inquest in Galway on Thursday heard how investigators had been baffled as to the cause of Mr. Faherty’s death. Forensic experts found that the fire in the fireplace of the sitting room where the badly burnt body had not been the cause of the blaze that killed Mr. Faherty.

The court was told that no trace of an accelerant had been found and there had been nothing to suggest foul play. The court heard Mr. Faherty had been found lying on his back with his head closest to an open fireplace. The fire had been confined to the sitting room. The only damage was to the body, which was totally burnt, the ceiling above him and the floor underneath him.

Dr McLoughlin said he had consulted medical textbooks and carried out other research in an attempt to find an explanation. He said Professor Bernard Knight, in his book on forensic pathology, had written about spontaneous combustion and noted that such reported cases were almost always near an open fireplace or chimney.

“This fire was thoroughly investigated and I’m left with the conclusion that this fits into the category of spontaneous human combustion, for which there is no adequate explanation,” he said.

Retired professor of pathology Mike Green said he had examined one suspected case in his career. He said he would not use the term spontaneous combustion, as there had to be some source of ignition, possibly a lit match or cigarette. “There is a source of ignition somewhere, but because the body is so badly destroyed the source can’t be found,” he said.

He said the circumstances in the Galway case were very similar to other possible cases. “This is the picture that is described time and time again,” he said.

“Even the most experienced rescue worker or forensic scientist takes a sharp intake of breath (when they come across the scene).” Mr. Green said he doubted explanations centered on divine intervention. “I think if the heavens were striking in cases of spontaneous combustion then there would be a lot more cases. I go for the practical, the mundane explanation,” he said.

Otto recalled Dickens’ words on the subject from
Bleak House
: “Here is a small burnt patch of flooring; here is the tinder from a little bundle of burnt paper, but not so light as usual, seeming to be steeped in something; and here is - is it the cinder of a small charred and broken log of wood sprinkled with white ashes, or is it coal? Oh, horror, he IS here!”

Otto turned his attention to Sen. Darling. He went over the Senator’s schedule going back several years. Fact-finding mission to Iraq. Fact-finding mission to Afghanistan. Burnishing his foreign policy cred. Had Darling been planning on seeking higher office? He’d have to ask Stella.

But if Darling planned to seek the Presidency wouldn’t Stella have mentioned it? And what was Pendragon’s part in his death, if any? Pendragon was at the forefront of the new energy companies and had received a half billion-dollar government loan to develop solar resources. But Pendragon could cover the entire North American continent with solar panels and they wouldn’t produce enough juice to light New York, let alone incinerate a man.

Besides. Darling was their honey boy. They had no reason to want him dead.

He’d read Sally Crandall’s transcripts. He doubted she’d lied. She was as baffled as anyone.

Otto searched the vic list for other politicians. Jean-Jacque Fusillier, a member of the French Socialist Party went up in flames at his country cottage at a birthday celebration for his seventeen-year-old son. The investigation blamed the fire on birthday cake candles but the whole thing smelled of cover-up.

Otto put in a RFI to the agency for Fusillier and Yakovitch. He phoned Stella. She was in court so he left a message. The dossier on Froines was thick and included a classified assessment of Glass Defense Industries. Glass was developing an infrared weapon for the Army for use in crowd situations. As near as Otto could tell the Glass Infra-Red Crowd Control Initiative caused an unpleasant tingling sensation on the skin but didn’t actually cook anybody.

Find the source of the energy and you solve the mystery. If it were a battery it would solve the earth’s energy needs. It wasn’t a battery. Technology like that could not remain secret for long.

Steve licked Otto’s pants.

“Don’t lick the pants, Steve.”

The Ocelot buzzed. It was Yee.

“Mr. White, please activate the video link on your computer.”

***

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“First Contact”

Otto found the link and turned it on. Secretary Yee blinked into view wearing a Kelly green blazer, white shirt, and cat’s eye glasses. He could tell from her delicate features she was a small woman.

“Can you hear me, Mr. White?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I have reviewed your history and I know Stella as a good friend. Thank you again for agreeing to do this. In addition to the attributes we sought though Project Genesis you possess another quality that I find essential. You’re loyal.”

Otto didn’t know what to say so he said nothing.

“There are people who will stop at nothing to gain the technology behind these assassinations. There is no question in my mind this is not a natural phenomenon, but the work of our enemies. There are strategic issues here that go far beyond mere assassination. If these immolations are the result of technology, how do they store the energy? Where is it coming from? Is it a new source of energy? The nation that solves the riddle will have a huge head-start.”

“I know that, ma’am.”

“Any thoughts?”

“Just to keep an open mind.”

The director’s lip curved up at one end. “It is possible that a foreign power, learning of your mission, will try to steal anything you uncover. It is also possible that we have a traitor in our midst.”

“Do you suspect someone, ma’am?”

“I have long suspected a leak within the intelligence community, which has now spread out among so many agencies it’s virtually impossible to keep track of who knows what. I first suspected we had a leak when internal agency memoranda began turning up on Wikileaks. Several years ago to test my hypothesis I released some disinformation as an internal memo. Sure enough, it showed up on Wikileaks within seventy-six hours.”

“I see.”

“It is even possible they will try to stop you. I can assign you some minders if you like.”

“No thank you, ma’am. I prefer to work alone. Ma’am, I ran into a guy I last saw in the Libyan desert. Ryan Hornbuckle. He’s out here in charge of the cyber crime unit. He was there that day I saw Malik self-combust.”

“I will look into Mr. Hornbuckle. You have my number. Don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything you need. God bless you for doing this.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll do my best.”

***