Chapter 12 #2
They stopped inside the door and behind a table filled with chairs and monitors, the scene he’d been watching before, only without Shana and Peck. Dane flicked a quick glance to the monitors to see that Shana and Peck had entered the interrogation room with Sebastian Whitaker.
“What are you doing here?” The SAC frowned at them each in turn until his unfriendly face rested on his assistant.
“Don’t blame Rex,” Peter said, referring to the staff assistant. “I convinced him we had important information and that you’d want us to get it to you for questioning as soon as possible.”
The SAC looked pointedly at Dane, but considered his words before he spoke. Cap moved over to stand with Dane. Dane watched the monitor. Shana and Peck were about to sit down to interview Sebastian.
“This is still our show. Our collar. Our press conference,” the SAC said.
“You can have it. As long as justice is done. That’s all we care about.” Peter spread his arms to include Dane, David and Cap.
“Pull up some chairs. They’re just about ready to start.” The SAC pointed Dane to a chair furthest from the monitors. Dane stood near the door, folded his arms and watched the monitor. He didn’t sit and he said nothing.
The SAC said, “Let’s hear what your new evidence is—over here.” The SAC was leading Peter toward an inner office, but Peter didn’t follow. Dane divided his attention between the screen and the governor. He could barely hear the interrogation, but they were still asking the light questions.
Peter said, “This isn’t secret evidence. We have information about the source of the money that was deposited into Wally White’s bank account that he claims was a payment for a hit he never agreed to.”
The SAC raised his brows. Then turned to one of his men in the room and said, “Don’t we have that information?”
“Not yet—working on it. We just got a subpoena—”
“Never mind.” The SAC tuned back to Peter. Dane didn’t mind a little drama and appreciated the governor playing it out, but Dane needed to pay attention to Shana and Peck. He needed to watch for any sign that Peck was undermining her questioning or skewing the direction.
Peter said, “There were three names on the account. Sebastian Whitaker, Fiona Whitaker and the third name was John Smith.”
“John—” The SAC started to question the name. Dane jumped in.
“A very unimaginative alias. I suggest we focus the questioning of Fiona Whitaker on the identity of John Smith.”
“Pull Special Agent Peck and Detective George from Sebastian Whitaker’s interrogation,” the SAC said. “Send them in to talk to Mrs. Whitaker—give them the update on the Swiss bank account.”
With his assistant dispatched, he turned to Dane, daring him to say another word. Dane would have said many words—if they were alone in a back alley. The SAC sent his assistant, not a trained Special Agent, to share information without direction or specification of what they were looking for.
Normally this would be okay since any trained FBI man worth his salt would know what to do with the information, but in this case, absent a specific instruction, he might have given Peck enough rope to hang himself.
Or Peck might have enough room to wiggle his way out of this.
Either way, Dane was most worried about Peck getting Shana into trouble, somehow setting her up.
This last thought was what troubled Dane enough to prod him into action.
He hadn’t liked her being in the room with Peck all along, never mind that it defied all rationality to think that Peck would pull anything or do anything to harm her while they were being watched.
But he might figure a way to throw her under the bus and make it look like she was undermining the FBI’s case.
“I’m surprised you’re allowing Peck to be in the same room with Detective George,” Dane said to the SAC.
Peter gave him a sharp look and David remained implacable in his typical British way. Cap stood next to him and he felt his friend tense up.
The SAC looked at him without speaking. Dane plundered on.
“After the knock-down drag-out fight they had. Captain Lynch had to break it up and bring Detective George to safety.”
The SAC folded his arms and continued his silence, but he’d started simmering.
Dane continued. “There hasn’t been time yet, but I’m certain charges will be filed—by Ms. George against Special Agent Peck—”
“You are so far out of line, Mr. Blaise, that I cannot even take you seriously. There is no way in hell that Ms. George could get away with filing charges—”
Dane nudged Cap then.
“I’m afraid that’s not true—I was a witness—”
“Bullshit. Peck has a broken nose and it wasn’t from tripping into a door like he tried to lie about. He’s covering up for your precious Ms. George—”
“That’s enough,” Peter said. “Why don’t we have Special Agent Peck and Ms. George join us right now to set the record straight?”
* * *
Shana leaned across the table toward Fiona Whitaker and tried not to sound as frustrated as she felt. If the woman whined that she was only trying to help her husband one more time, Shana would ask to take a break.
The distinct sound of a commotion filtered into the room from the hallway.
“Let’s stop for a break,” she said and stood. Peck stood also and put an arm at her back. She pulled away. Fiona gave her a look like murder.
Shana walked from the room with the solid quick click of her ridiculous heels sounding on the tile floor. Peck was right behind her. She did not slam the door in his face. She saw the SAC’s assistant down the hall waving them back to the observation room.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” Peck said. She felt his hot breath. “The stress too much for you? I’m not complaining and I have a serious injury to contend with. So far I haven’t pressed charges, but—”
Shana stopped short in the hall and spun around.
“You’re damn right you’re not pressing charges against me.
” She kept her voice low, but the rage came through with all the righteous indignation she could muster while on her opponent’s home turf.
She realized the cagey agent had kept her close-by like any self-respecting schemer kept his enemies close.
“Because you know damn well whose charge would pan out in the end.” Giving full force to her anger felt good, but it unsettled her. She pivoted before he responded, before he touched her, and marched to the end of the hall where the assistant had waved them into the observation room.
The uptick in her already agitated pulse rate might have been due to finding Dane in the room, but the swirl of confusing emotions wouldn’t settle enough for Shana to figure out if it was surprise, excitement, fear or profound relief that contributed most. The fleeting thought that it could be her pure animal instinctive response to him made her scowl.
She put her scowl to good use, aiming it at all as she swept her gaze across the room which had suddenly got crowded and cloudy with a testosterone-infused atmosphere. The men stood across an invisible divide in their corners.
The FBI SAC, Owen Evans, his assistant and two agents stood on one side and the governor on the other. Strangely, Dane was close to the middle and he zeroed in on her.
She was aware of Peck standing behind her, too close. Dane did not look at Peck. Instead he held her eyes alone with that remarkable intensity he had.
“Tell us what happened last night.” Dane’s voice boomed with boldness rather than volume. The abruptness of the question asked in front of this audience made her pause, but only for a beat.
“I had dinner with Special Agent Peck and we—”
“We had a wonderful time—traded information.” Peck interrupted.
“Looks more like you traded punches,” Dane said. The quietness of his voice, like a low growl, was not lost on Shana. She jumped back into her explanation.
“We did have a tussle over Peck’s phone—”
“What the hell is this about, Blaise? You looking for trouble? I didn’t make an arrest or press charges. I was willing to let bygones—”
“What the hell are you saying, Peck?” Evans asked.
Peck clammed up then. Evans looked at her, but Shana had no idea where Dane wanted to go with this. She closed her mouth and looked at Dane. Everyone turned in Dane’s direction.
“I can see we have a truce. I will assume that means full cooperation.” Dane turned to Evans. “Shana should talk to Fiona without Peck. She has a rapport. He does not.”
Peck snorted. “I’m just fine with Fiona. Don’t you worry.”
* * *
Dane narrowed his eyes at Peck and Shana wondered what was running through his head. He had a plan and she needed to figure it out. There was a reason he wanted to send her in with Fiona without Peck.
“We have additional intelligence. It would be more effective with Shana asking the questions to explore—”
“What damn bullshit additional intelligence? We already heard about the bank account,” Peck said.
Shana heard a tiny vibration of fear in the man’s voice, from deep down in his throat where he couldn’t control it. It wasn’t much, but it was there. Dane smiled at her. He’d heard it too. She knew it.
“We found out that Sebastian had a visitor the week before he was released. His infamous cellblock mate’s nephew. It’s been confirmed. See what she knows about it.”
She watched Peck’s reaction. The tension in the man’s face disappeared like he was a photoshopped picture. Shana knew Dane had never believed that story about Whitaker’s prisonmate setting up the sniper. He was setting up Peck. Somehow.
The SAC gave Dane a cold stare then nodded, affirming the suggestion that Shana continue the interrogation without Peck.