Chapter 22
KYLE
Bella and I finished our four-mile trot, then she napped while I did an hour of PT with Hayes, Wheeler, and Lang.
When I headed to the third floor of the HQ building where there were apartments with showers for agents to use, she followed me.
Her need to keep me in her sight was endearing and heartbreaking at the same time.
But she was already warming up to the rest of the team.
Having spent Friday evening with them, she was already comfortable enough to ask them for pets and beg for treats.
I tried to enforce Cami’s rules about Bella’s eating habits, but I was pretty sure my friends, particularly Wheeler, were spoiling her rotten behind my back.
The four of us who’d sweated it out in PT and grabbed showers afterward arrived outside the SCIF at two minutes before the hour. We deposited our personal electronics—which were strictly verboten inside the SCIF—in a basket, and Wheeler punched today’s code into the cipher lock.
“You know,” Wheeler said, angling his way between Bella and me, “we need a team mascot. What do you think, Bella? You looking for a job?”
“HEAT teams don’t have mascots.” Kat, who was already in the room conferring with Pasco, looked at the four of us, then glanced down at Bella.
When the pup trotted over to her, Kat showered her with attention.
“But I’m a little offended no one’s ever considered Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants as a potential candidate,” she said in a sweet voice that made Bella wag her tail so hard, her body squirmed from side to side.
We all fell silent and looked at Lang, who scowled, then took one for the team. “Kat, you know Mr. Fuzzy hates all of us.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Kat said. “He just doesn’t like anyone outside the family petting him. Or being in the same room with him. Or looking through the window at him.”
We’d learned that last lesson one time months ago, when Mr. Fuzzy had been closed in Kat’s office and Hayes had made the mistake of slowing down to peek at him while walking past.
Kat shrugged. “Maybe he’s not mascot material.” She patted Bella’s head again. “If you’re going to be around here more often, we probably need to get a dog bed for you.”
I didn’t know whether that made it official, but at least unofficially, Bella had joined our HEAT team.
Lang, Hayes, Wheeler, and I sat at the conference table with Pasco. Our IT guru had arrived a few minutes earlier to set up his computer to play the briefing on the large smart screen at the head of the table, where Kat now stood.
“Bond and Jensen are both in Chicago today and won’t be calling in, so we’ll get started,” she said.
As the heads of the medical and IT departments, respectively, they were too busy to work more than part-time with us, but we still liked to claim them as our own.
“First, some good news,” Kat continued. “X has received permission for HEAT to take the lead in the drug case that involves Scott Riker.”
I smiled with relief.
Lang wasn’t so quick to jump on board. “What does that mean, the lead? That makes it sound like it’s not our case.”
“We’ll get to that in a minute.” She nodded to Pasco, who hit a computer key. A larger-than-life-size image of an old team nemesis popped up on the screen.
We collectively gasped.
“I know you remember Howard Anson, leader of the Wealth Craft Institute,” Kat said.
I might have joked to team members who were not Lang that my partner held a particular grudge against Anson because when Lang had gone undercover in the WCI, he’d had to wear an Argyle sweater.
Weirdly, the ladies loved Lang in an Argyle, and a few of them had even slipped their phone numbers into his pockets. That had just pissed him off more.
But the real reason we all hated Anson was because he was a dangerous son of a bitch who’d escaped justice. He’d almost killed Hayes with a bomb, then set up other people to take the fall for his crimes.
And he was still running a fucking cult disguised as a wealth management group.
“Are we back on the trail of WCI?” Hayes asked. He lived for the day we would take down the man who’d tried to kill him.
“And off the Scott Riker trail?” I asked.
“Yes to Hayes, no to Rogers,” Kat said, pacing in front of the screen.
“Back to Anson, in his long list of alleged and suspected crimes is attempted blackmail. Kompromat against industry magnates, government officials, military contractors. According to our intel, Anson and WCI have entrapped or are in the process of entrapping dozens of the country’s most powerful people.
” She looked at me. “One of the items they use to entice their targets is designer drugs. Very expensive, very specific drugs.”
I petted my pup’s head and her tail thumped against the carpeted floor. “Like the ones that were sewn into Bella.”
I turned over the new information in my head. Riker struck me as very low-rent, but players like Anson often scouted local talent to do their dirty work. And local to us meant four of the main cities on the Eastern seaport, so Anson would definitely have a stake in the area.
I realized Lang had been digesting a different piece of the information when he said, “Kompromat on that many people must be a national security risk, which is HEAT’s turf. So, if the drugs are tied to Anson, that means Riker’s drug ring falls under our jurisdiction.”
Kat clasped her hands behind her back. “Yes and no.”
We collectively groaned.
“The FBI and DEA are holding hands on this one,” she continued. “They want a piece of the action and they’re being very difficult about it, so X has made a deal.”
“Can’t wait,” Wheeler said, then sighed.
“Trust me, we’re all feeling the pain,” said Pasco. “Now I have to play footsie with their IT departments to access the data they’ve collected through secret warrants.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “If we had this case free and clear, they’d have to turn over everything immediately.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Kat said. “In the meantime, I need all of you to remember we are playing nice. All efforts targeting Riker and his accomplices will either be coordinated through the FBI or a heads up will be given to them before we execute any operations, as a courtesy.”
“Meaning they get veto power over our mission,” I said. I was already pissy about not being able to run straight at Cami’s ex. Now there was yet another barrier erected between us. “Please tell me the FBI isn’t already making a back-door deal with Riker.”
“Not according to X’s sources or mine,” she said.
That was at least something. X was possibly the best-connected person in DC, and Kat had been FBI for a few years before she’d come to HEAT.
They both went way back with some powerful people.
But there was still an elephant in the room.
There were tens of thousands of drug cases in the country at any given time.
Why the hell was this one so important to the other agencies?
Plus, nothing in our briefing thus far had risen to level of being classified.
There was something more coming, something big.
“Why are we in the SCIF for this meeting, Kat?” I asked.
She nodded to Pasco, who tapped on his keyboard. A new image popped up on the screen.
“Because of this man,” she answered.
“The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” Lang said, as if some of us might not recognize the highest-ranking military officer in the country and advisor to the President.
“Fuck me,” Hayes muttered. “We’re not going to like this mission, are we?”
The lead ball sinking in my gut agreed with him. “Are you telling us there’s kompromat on the general?” I asked.
Kat shook her head, and I relaxed. “Not the general. His son.”
Shit. That wasn’t much better. In fact, it might be much, much worse. People could be coerced into doing things to protect their kids that they’d never consider doing to save their own skins.
“The son has a taste for expensive designer drugs,” Pasco said. “Word on the dark web is he’s looking for a reliable supplier for himself and his high-profile friends,” Pasco said.
Lang folded his arms over his chest and stared at the screen. “How long has X known Anson and his cult are tied up in this kompromat ring?” He glanced at Kat. “I’m guessing at least a year, since that’s when she put together the plan for this team at this location.”
Kat met his steely gaze with one of her own. “I’m not privy to X’s innermost thoughts or machinations, but it’s safe to assume. And before you ask, I was briefed on—and not given permission to share—this information about six months ago.”
“About the time Savannah needed my help to deal with her ex-business partner who’d gotten drawn into Anson’s orbit,” Hayes said, anger darkening his face. “Did X set up Savannah to draw me into it and bring me into HEAT?”
“No,” Kat answered emphatically. “But she’s very opportunistic, a master chess player, if you will, and your interest in helping Savannah brought you on to X’s radar.”
I understood exactly how Hayes felt. “And what about Cami, how does she fit on X’s chess board?” I asked
“She wasn’t targeted by HEAT, either,” Kat said. “But we suspect the dog rings working with WCI will target veterinarians in their areas for access to drugs or even animal surgery. It’s not difficult to imagine a high-profile veterinarian like Cami would have crossed our path eventually.”
Hayes and I exchanged a glance. We’d probably never know the whole truth, but that was the price of working for a covert agency. This was the work. Take it or... Well, we couldn’t leave it, not without a hell of a lot of red tape.
“All right, on to assignments,” Kat said.
Lang and I would focus on deconstructing the logistics of the drug operation, from figuring out where else Riker and his accomplices might be to tracking down building blueprints, to monitoring and reviewing security camera footage, to identifying all the ways criminal elements could move people, drugs, and weapons.
We’d feed our information to Pasco so he could develop an algorithm to predict future shipments.
“That’s it for now, but we’ll reconvene at 1600 to share updates,” Kat said.
“Wait,” I said, “we haven’t discussed any plan for taking Riker into custody.”
“We don’t have anything to charge him with yet,” Kat said.
“But if we do our jobs right, we will very soon.” She looked at each of us around the table.
“Remember, the FBI still has some jurisdiction in the drug case so, I will repeat, we have to play nice. We don’t make a move on Riker and company unless and until X has coordinated it with the Director of the FBI. ”
I didn’t like it, but I didn’t argue because it wouldn’t do any good.
“Rogers, you can let Dr. Vaughn know we have this case and we’ll share information about Riker if and when we can,” Kat told me.
Maybe it was a consolation prize. It did help the tiniest bit.
“And you can give her the broad strokes about Anson. But obviously, not a word about the general or any other potential kompromat targets.”
“Understood,” I said.
“Pasco,” Kat said, “join me in the first-floor conference room in ten, and we’ll review the FBI warrants to see what we need to add to the list.”
“On it, boss,” he said. She left the room as he packed up his computer.
“Hey, I still have some of my newest drink concoction left if you want a nip after work,” he told us.
“No way,” Hayes said. “I’m still having taste flashbacks from Friday night.”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. But no alcohol for me. I’m leaving at 1700 today.”
“Of course you are.” Pasco glanced between Hayes and me. “I hope this love shit isn’t catching.” He waved as he left. “Kat, hold the elevator. I’m right behind you.”
Hayes slapped me on the back. “How are you holding up, Rogers?”
It was good to have a buddy who understood my frustration, having been through the shit when Savannah’s ex-business partner had gotten pulled into Anson’s orbit.
“I’m used to being in the background,” I said, “but if we ever get our shot at Riker, I’m going to have a hard time staying out of the fray. ”
“I’m all for you going Tactical on this one,” Wheeler said. “And while you and Hayes are in the field, I’ll be happy to entertain Savannah and Cami.”
“You can give Hayes and Rogers all the shit you want,” Lang said, “but leave the ladies out of it. Otherwise, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Just being friendly.” When Lang stared stonily at him, Wheeler’s grin faded and he nodded earnestly. “But roger that.”
Lang reached down and patted Bella’s head, then turned his back on us and stalked out of the conference room. Wheeler’s serious facade morphed into a wide smile.
“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face,” Lang said without looking back at us.
Wheeler didn’t even try. His favorite part of the job was sparring with all of us, and he wasn’t going to start hiding it now. He reached for the last granola bar left on the snack tray, but I was closer and got to it first.
Now I grinned. “Are we going to have a problem?” I whispered so only Wheeler could hear me.
“You can’t pull off that line, Rogers,” Lang called, now nearly on the other end of the hall. “And get your grubby hands off my granola bar.”
The three of us waited quietly until we heard the door to the stairwell close behind him.
Then Hayes spoke. “Sometimes that guy is fucking scary. Maybe he’s been implanted with a chip that gives him three-sixty vision and bionic hearing. We should ask Pasco about it.”
“That would be so cool,” Wheeler said.
“He doesn’t need a chip,” I said. “He’s just on to our bullshit.”
Wheeler shrugged. “That doesn’t make him any less scary.”
“Agreed,” I said. “That’s why I’m glad he’s on our team.”