Chapter 11 #2
“We have the sniper, Wally White.”
“So I heard. From the Coast Guard. Captain Vendi called me. Good work.”
Dane grunted then said, “Favor. Check back channels with the FBI SAC about Peck’s assignment—see if he’s supposed to be looking into Acer’s shooting. Also find out if he’s been digging into Harry the Hacker’s shooting, since he’s connected to the main suspect, Whitaker.”
“I tried calling you earlier—or rather I called Captain Lynch and missed you. The surveillance team at the Whitaker house saw Sebastian going inside and they believe he’s there with his wife. Time to bring them in?”
“It’s definitely time. Wally confirmed it. I’ll give you more details when we get in. Cap, Acer, Shana and I are about to get on a copter.”
“And Wallace White?”
“He’s with Peck.” Dane spoke in a clipped voice, trying to hide his problem with this, trying to sound mildly annoyed. There was a moment of silence while David took everything in—especially the part about Peck having taken control.
“Does Peter know?”
“He’s my next call. I don’t know what he can do, but if he can get us a seat in the interrogation room with the Whitakers—”
“You think the FBI will take control of all prisoners?”
“Seems to be that type of operation. Their surveillance guys are probably right behind yours waiting to pounce. That’s Peck’s MO. He watched and waited until we had Wally, then he moved in.”
“I have news on the threatened complaint by Special Agent Peck,” David said in a droll voice. This should be good. Dane braced himself.
“Give it to me.”
“The news is there is no complaint. We didn’t go forward with a complaint either. We are looking at an incomplete picture here.”
“I love your shocking talent for understatement. You’re right. We haven’t pinned down the source of the mysterious cars trying to run down or grab Shana, and the surveillance car I saw in my neighborhood.”
“I called the prison where Whitaker was held,” David said.
“I obtained the records for his visitors and information about which fellow prison inmates he associated with. Seems he was in the same cellblock as a notorious mob leader who may or may not still retain some control of a network of underlings and vast wealth through his sons. The prison came up with some interesting correspondence between Whitaker and his cellblock mate’s son, it seems.
“They’re sending the copy of the note for authentication, but they have no reason to believe it was faked.
They’re checking his phone records for me.
No visitors except his wife for years until very recently, just before he was released.
According to the records, his notorious cellblock mate’s nephew visited with him two weeks before his release. ”
“I know it sounds plausible on the surface,” Dane said, “that a notorious prisoner might try to get his claws into Whitaker’s stash, but the minute you dig down, it doesn’t hold water. In fact it makes no sense at all.”
“I did wonder why such a notorious criminal would communicate by a note, knowing full well that it would be reviewed and recorded,” David said. “Your theory?”
Dane said, “Why would Whitaker bring in prison buddies on his scheme if he was using his wife to contact the sniper? And why would he bring in more people if he had the sniper kill Harry the Hacker to cut him out of his share?”
“He could have been forced. Or he might have killed Harry for vengeance.”
“Then why would these notorious people not squeeze Fiona to get access to the money instead of waiting around while the FBI watched and bodies dropped? And the biggest question of all is, if they knew the FBI was involved or at least watching, why would they waste their time and take the risk for a paltry twenty million at all?”
“I agree. They wouldn’t. The thing of it is, though, we have no proof of an alternative theory aside from Whitaker himself plotting the entire matter. Which seems the least plausible of all. It seems like if he had access to the money he’d just grab it and run.”
“And if he doesn’t have access—why not? Who does?” Dane paused and then added, “That’s a rhetorical question since we both know the answer is Peck.” Dane explained the circumstances around the missing bullet in the Harry Small murder.
“Without the bullet, you can’t even prove the Small murder is related to the shot at Acer. Although I admit there are some suspicious circumstances that need to be looked into. We need proof, my young man. Proof.”
“How about a confession?”
David didn’t scoff, but Dane could hear the skepticism through the silence loud and clear.
“I’ll see if we can get a seat in the interrogation room with our three suspects.”
“You and Peter will have to finesse that. I have to go and work the press now.” Dane clicked off, but not before he heard the alarmed utterance, “Press?” from David.
Sometimes he loved being off the books. No, make that always.
He always loved being off the books and this was why.
He could use all the tools necessary—and that included the press.
But he had one more call to make. As he watched several of the press looking his way with increased frequency as they surrounded Shana and Cap, he realized he’d better make it a quick call.
With the press of one finger, he had the governor’s special line ringing. Peter John Douglas answered on the second ring.
“Are you on your way? I heard from the press that a sniper has been captured.”
“The feds have him.”
“Shit.”
Dane gave the governor a rundown on the missing bullet and case file on the Harry Small murder and the suspicious trail left for them implicating a prison mate of Sebastian Whitaker’s.
“Who led you to look into Whitaker’s cellmate?” the governor asked.
Dane thought for a second and remembered it was Shana who mentioned it—after she’d spoken to Fiona Whitaker. Dane smiled and said, “Whitaker’s wife.”
Peter grunted and said, “What about the Whitakers—time to bring them in?”
“David is picking up the Whitakers now, but the feds are right behind him and will take control of them too. We had a chance to talk to Wally, but we’ll need a seat in the interrogation room with the Whitakers.
Especially Mrs. Whitaker. Shana can get her to talk, but we’re still working on getting more intel to convince someone to spill the story.
And we’ll need to get a subpoena so David can follow the money trail.
Wally gave us the number of his account and we need to backtrack a fifty-K deposit as far as we can go.
We’ll need the information before we’re finished with the interrogation. ”
“You’ve got it,” the governor told him. “Acer’s okay then.”
“He’s with me.”
Dane didn’t ask Peter how he would get them a seat at the interrogation table or what leverage he would need to use. He only knew that if Peter promised it, then it would happen.
“I’ll meet you at FBI HQ.” Dane signed off.
Dane opened the door to his Jeep as he placed one final call to his friend Angela at the prison where Whitaker had been held. He explained the theory that Whitaker was being extorted by their celebrity mobster and she emphatically denied the possibility.
“I don’t know who faked those records, but what you described is impossible,” Angela said.
“Sebastian Whitaker had no close associates and no visitors except his wife. I know—I’ve been stationed in his cellblock for the past two years.
He never said a peep about the money. Only that he’d lost everything and someone set him up.
People here believe him. He’s not the violent type—or so it would seem.
But he’s done a good job of playing the man with nothing left except his dutiful wife. ”
“I owe you, Angel.”
“I’ll take dinner and a night out—or a night in—it’s been a while. You let me know next time you come over from the island.”
Dane’s conscience pinched when he said, “Will do.” There was no reason not to make the promise. He had no obligations or ties to Shana. They weren’t supposed to have any romantic relationship whatsoever.
But in spite of his non-relationship with Shana, there was no way in hell he could see himself making good on his promise to Angela. He was in a damn relationship purgatory. Swiping the issue from his mind, he hopped from the shelter of the Jeep and slammed the door shut.
Two camera operators and men with mics came running his way, along with a few others from print and internet news. He recognized them from last summer’s fiasco. They were ignoring the FBI car.
“You’re at it again, Mr. Blaise,” a young local reporter named Kevin Spade shouted as he drew close and waved his cameraman on for a shot.
“Can’t let people get away with murder, now, can we?” Dane had all their attention and questions.
He’d swear reporters had an instinct about people—knowing which ones would talk. They’d clearly decided he was their mark. He’d have a story for them, partly to spite the FBI and partly as strategy to keep the feds honest.
The crowd of media ignored the FBI car and peppered Dane with questions. They wanted to know who the sniper was after and why he was shooting at someone. Most of all, they wanted to know who that someone was.
“I’m Special Agent Glen Peck.” He flashed his card as he trotted over and spoke above the crowd.
“This is an ongoing FBI matter. None of us can answer any questions about the case right now. I’m sure there’ll be a press conference at our Boston headquarters later to let you know what we can tell you. ”
“What time will that be, Special Agent Peck?” one of the TV reporters asked with his camera rolling.
Dane enjoyed the tight smile Peck sported and noticed the bulging vein in the man’s neck. He would ordinarily wish the guy would drop with a stroke, but Dane wanted to take him down in handcuffs.
His new vision of the ending to this case was to see Special Agent Glen Peck handcuffed and taken away in one of his own cars by his own fellow agents to a federal prison where he would become famous. Dane imagined the smile on his own face was evil. Shana elbowed him, confirming his suspicion.
“I’ll let you know.” Peck glowered and looked at his watch.
Dane stood and folded his arms. Peck wouldn’t leave until they were gone. He didn’t want any of them left alone with the media.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Peck?”
“So do you.”
“I’m in no hurry. I don’t mind giving these hardworking news people a little more of my time.”
“Mr. Blaise, can you describe the boat chase and capture of the sniper—” The reporter looked at some notes and continued, “Wallace White?”
“Certainly—”
“Mr. Blaise doesn’t have time. We need to get back to FBI headquarters where Mr. Blaise will be needed to make an official statement for the—”
“I don’t mind telling my story right now. You can listen too, Agent Peck.” Dane turned to a small group of lingering media and spoke.
“I was standing in my kitchen with Mr. Acerman when I saw a boat in the harbor that didn’t belong—”
“Mr. Blaise—that’s enough. How about we get back so we can interrogate Mr. White.”
“Are you saying I get a seat at the table?”
Peck hesitated and Dane turned back to the crowd. They were being entertained and taking notes and filming and recording everything.
“Of course, someone from your team will most definitely be involved in the interrogation. The FBI always appreciates the assistance of local law enforcement such as Captain Lynch and Special Detective Shana George.” Peck turned to Shana and grabbed her by the arm.
One of the reporters stuck out a mic and asked, “Was the sniper after Ms. George?”
Peck didn’t answer the question, but he smiled at the camera aimed his way and said, “Let’s go, Ms. George. You can ride with us and participate in the questioning—”
“Hold on, Peck.” Dane held his wild spike of adrenaline, fear and emotion in check—barely—and kept his voice cool as a blade.
Peck ignored him. Shana looked undecided and then nodded at Dane as she yanked her arm free from Peck’s grip.
“Thank you for the invitation, Agent Peck. But I don’t think I should be the only one representing our team. Others have more valuable information—”
Peck cut her off and swung around to look over Dane, Acer and Cap. Dane took a step closer. Peck said, “Captain Lynch. Please join us.” Then he turned back toward the waiting FBI Copter and pressed a hand against Shana’s back to urge her along.
Cap said, “I’m on my way. I’ll call it in.” He looked at Dane.
Dane said, “Stick to her like glue. I’m working on a couple of things. We’ll join you as soon as we can.” Dane clapped Cap on the back before the man jogged to catch up with Peck and Shana.
Most of the media had disbursed, but Kevin, his one local guy, was left and asked Dane, “What does this mean, Mr. Blaise? Are the feds taking over your case? What makes it a federal case? Is it related to another federal case?”
Dane stopped and said, “Very astute of you, Kevin. It just might be related to an old embezzlement case involving a missing twenty million dollars and one of Mr. Acerman’s first assists to law enforcement.”
The reporter questioned Acer who gave him the background on the Whitakers and Harold the Hacker Small’s murder.
“So that makes it a federal case?”
“In more ways than one,” Dane said. He nodded at Acer and headed to the State Police copter waiting for them thirty yards away.
“No wonder they call you Dane the demon. You are a devil. Peck will kill you.”
“Me? You’re the one that told him all about the Whitakers and Harry the Hacker.”
Acer grunted, “I didn’t like the idea of Peck letting them think Shana was a target—didn’t want to let him set her up. I don’t know why the media would speculate that she was the target.”
“Either Peck dropped a hint we don’t know about or there’s no good reason except that she’s beautiful and badass and with Scotland Yard.”
Acer grunted again when they reached the copter. “Is the State Police copter going to take us to Boston without Cap?”
“Sure. I got juice.”
Acer laughed and Dane explained the situation to the pilot before they jumped into the copter and headed to Boston.