35. Walker
Chapter thirty-five
Walker
Agent Nikki Patel kept us in the loop as we were en route to Kansas City. Agents had local police pick up Nam Smith in a routine traffic stop without incident and it was quite helpful of him to run a red light while in possession of an unregistered firearm. He’s waiting for us at the FBI’s Kansas City headquarters.
While traveling, Mason dug deeper into the minimal records for Matteo Galletti. We know he is a twenty-nine-year-old male that grew up in Spain until his mother’s death. There is no indication that Matteo’s father had anything to do with his son in any capacity until Matteo’s mother’s death. His father enrolled Matteo in a private military boarding school within a month of his mother’s passing.
Mason found an additional news article that featured Matteo’s sharpshooting skills after winning another regional competition. Matteo stated that his mother started teaching him everything she knew about shooting, including starting to teach him how to fire a gun when he was only four years old. The only record Mason has unearthed so far of Matteo ever being in the United States was seven years ago for a friendly sniper competition in California back when he was an active member of the Italian Army Special Forces Carabinieri. Eight days after his arrival, Matteo returned to Italy with his teammates. But if this is our guy, he’s obviously finding some way to get in and out of the country without official records of his movement .
It’s close to 5:30 a.m. when we arrive at the headquarters in Kansas City, and Nam Smith is in for quite the wake-up call. We make the necessary introductions before Nikki walks us to the interrogation room where they brought Nam after waking him up in his holding cell. I can see why Tara and Nikki keep in touch both personally and professionally, they are both outspoken, straightforward, and seem to be cut from the same cloth. For however long we’re in Kansas City, it feels like Nikki will work well with my team.
“Mason, I want you listening on the other side of the two-way mirror doing your thing and chasing any breadcrumbs he might drop. Harlow, can you also watch the interview with Mason? I want your take on anything that could be helpful, but I don’t want him to know we have a doctor observing him just yet. I’ll have my earpiece in if there’s anything significant. Kelly, I want you in with me. Based on Nikki’s interview with Luna, this guy might respond better to two men. We’ll be able to tell quickly if that’s a good approach but if it isn’t, Tara, I want you ready to swap out with Kelly if we need a nice person to come save him from us.”
“Sounds good, sir. What’s our codeword to initiate the swap?” Tara asks.
“I don’t want him to pick up on anything so let’s go with the word nap,” I tell her. My team nods, familiar with this set up, and everyone moves to their designated spots, along with a few members from Nikki’s team observing the interview with Mason, Harlow, and Tara. I tilt my head left and right toward my shoulders to stretch out my neck a bit, which feels tight from the brief sleep I caught on the way here. I take a deep breath and nod at Kelly. “Let’s do this.”
Nam Smith is a local leader with the Vietnamese Syndicate. He ranks high enough to oversee the Kansas City area metro, but not high enough to run anything outside of the Midwest. He was born to Vietnamese immigrants, who anglicized their last name from Lam to Smith when they arrived in the United States. He has an extensive rap sheet filled with every stereotypical mafia charge from money laundering and fraud to a plethora of assault and drug charges. When Luna mentioned his wife, Mason investigated her further and while Nam may be a big deal locally, she comes from a very powerful and dangerous family. Nam’s wife’s uncle is the head of the entire Vietnamese Syndicate throughout North America. Mason also found proof that this is the same Nam Smith that was the disgruntled former business associate of Van Tran, the on-again, off-again boyfriend of our third sniper victim, Kimberly Nguyen.
Walking into the interrogation room, Nam looks exhausted and annoyed. I guess he isn’t fond of the sleeping accommodations in an FBI holding cell. Nam’s shirt is wrinkled, but I suspect was crisply ironed at one point. His dark hair is disheveled, and he has bags under his eyes. I read in his file that he is five-foot-three and weighs one hundred and twenty pounds as of his arrest last night. “Good morning, Nam. My name is Special Agent Henry Walker Bennett, and this is my colleague Special Agent Kelly Shannon. We have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind,” I say as Kelly and I both take a seat across the table from him. Nam doesn’t say anything initially as he assesses us with narrow eyes.
“If you cooperate with us, it will help your case with a judge or jury,” Kelly tells him.
“I have nothing to say to either of you and I’d like to go back to sleep while I wait for my lawyer to bail me out on whatever bullshit charges you guys are trying to pin on me,” Nam sneers at us. I always try to start from a place of respect when I’m interrogating someone, but I don’t think he and I are going to be friends after this. Somehow, I think I’ll survive. “You can’t touch me, fed.”
“Now don’t be all hat and no cattle, Nam,” I tell him .
“I don’t have any cattle, what the hell, dude? Go back to whatever backwoods town you rolled out of; you’re out of your depth, fed.” Nam doesn’t get my Texan expression, but is quickly living up to my assumption that this guy thinks he’s a big deal. I hope I get to be the one to inform him of the reality of things. “I don’t know what you think you have, but it’s obviously not a fucking clue as to who I am.”
“Why don’t we start things off with some show and tell. It was always my favorite part of kindergarten,” I tell him as I open a folder in front of me, lifting it enough away from him so Nam can’t see what I’m reading. “I know it’s early but try to keep up with my train of thought here, Nam. I’ve heard you’re a smart man, but I guess we will see about that,” I say with a shrug.
“Did you just call me dumb? Are you insulting my intelligence, asshole?” Nam cocks his head at me as his nostrils flare. His temper was mentioned throughout his multiple arrest reports and that’s one of my favorite buttons to push with a suspect.
“I only call things like I see them,” I shrug.
“Oh yeah, and what is it that you think you see?” Nam scoffs at me.
“I think I see someone who is going to help me fill in some blanks and give me information that will be very helpful in an ongoing case of mine,” I reply confidently.
“Fuck that. Think again. I’m no snitch, and now I don’t even wanna talk to you. Where’s my fucking lawyer?!” Nam slams his fists down on the table as he yells the last part toward the door as if someone is waiting out there to run and fetch his attorney for him.
“You have every right to ask for an attorney to be present, Nam, and if that’s the route you want to go, that’s your right,” Kelly tells him as Nam nods in agreement.
“Although, I’m not sure if a temper tantrum is necessary. If you would rather not answer our questions, I think we can just get a team over to your house to ask your wife directly,” Kelly turns to me. “Do you think 6:30 a.m. is too early to ring her doorbell? There’s never a good time to find out your husband is cheating on you so maybe we could wait until 7 a.m.”
“Nope, hell no. The fuck you even talking about, man? Leave my wife alone, you can’t go to my house. What the hell, you have no right to go to my house!” Nam’s face is getting redder by the second, and I would bet if given the opportunity, Nam would punch Kelly in the face. Anger can be very helpful in an interrogation though because when someone is operating from a place of anger, they tend to lose their filter, and sometimes even logic.
It’s also a fun part of my job when I get to push a bad guy to lose control and break.
“What the fuck do you want? And why would you tell my wife shit? Leave her alone, she didn’t do anything.”
“No, she didn’t do anything that we’re aware of as of right now, that would be you, Nam,” I tell him as I pull out the photographs in the folder that Nikki gave us when we arrived. Luna is not the only girl Nam was cheating on his wife with, so we were able to easily find photographs of him with other women while he had been under surveillance of other agents building a case against his organization for suspected criminal activity. Luna helped us with our investigation, so I don’t want to throw her under the bus to Nam if possible. I slowly lay each photograph down and by the time I lay the seventh one on the table, Nam looks like he may be feeling a little nauseous.
“My wife can’t see these. What do you want?” Nam grits out, at least he’s no longer yelling at us.
“It’s pretty straight forward. Let’s play a little game, Nam,” I tell him as a small smile spreads across my face.
“What game?” he asks as he looks up from the photographs of him in various stages of undress and sexual activity with women that are clearly not his five-foot-three wife.
“It’s a classic game of let’s make a deal, Nam. Do you feel like playing, or would you like me to drive over to 18412 South Silver Pines Boulevard and ring the doorbell to speak with your wife?” I ask with a cocky grin knowing that I have him right where I want him.
“What you can do is forget my address right the fuck now,” Nam replies as he clenches his jaw.
“Hey, you know, if I don’t need to go over there, I’m happy to forget the address, along with your wife’s phone number and license plate number,” I say as I hold his gaze. I’m not afraid of this guy and he’s going to learn that I’ve danced with much bigger bulls and I always get my way.
“Although, Kelly, I must admit, I’m surprised his wife drives that red SUV. From her file, I was expecting a white or black vehicle.” Kelly looks at me to hum in agreement and nods before looking across the table with his signature shit eating grin on his face.
“What do you want to know?” Nam asks.
“I want to know how you put the hit on Kimberly Nguyen,” I tell the lowlife. “I want to know how you contacted The Susurro. I want to know every step you took in putting the hit out on Kenny Scott, and any other information you know about The Susurro. And after that? You’re going to help us contact him again.” I hold up my hand before Nam can protest. “And if you don’t, then I can and will have agents at your house within …” I pause to look at my watch for dramatic effect, “… twenty-two minutes.”
To be honest, I don’t actually know how far away his house is from where we are, but I find it more entertaining and helpful to be specific in my threats. Looking at his face though, I might need to get this guy a bucket. “Nam? Are you feeling okay there? You look a little peaked right now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nam mumbles.
“Oh, really? So, you’re trying to tell us that this isn’t you …” Kelly pulls out a photograph of a screenshot from video surveillance of the brawl between Mr. Tran and Mr. Smith. “That’s you on the right with the bleeding lip, isn’t it? You’re fighting Mr. Van Tran; he’s the one about to land a sucker punch to your gut in this picture. I saw the video, and he really packs a punch. This all happened outside of the nightclub Heat in Cleveland less than one week before Mr. Tran’s significant other Ms. Nguyen was sadly murdered by a sniper.”
Nam gives himself away when he smiles at the mention of Ms. Nguyen’s murder. I bet he’s a shit poker player between his obvious tells and anger issues. “It’s too bad he couldn’t take care of his own girlfriend, you know though, that sounds like something that would happen to Van,” Nam smugly comments as he shrugs.
“Did I forget to mention that we have video of you threatening him saying and I quote, ‘I will cut down everything and anything you love, Van. You are a piece of shit and I’m coming for you. I’ll first take away everything you care about starting with your whore girlfriend,’” I tell him.
“That’s just a coincidence. We were mad at each other, we both said things,” Nam tries to dismiss the connection, but we aren’t quite done.
“When you were brought in for questioning last night, we expedited a warrant on your phone and email accounts. You should really get better about using a burner, that’s like criminal 101 stuff, Nam,” I tell him as I pull out the folder Mason put together and hand the top sheet to Kelly.
I know Nam wants to see everything we have in our folders, but he’ll only see what I want him to see. The lack of control is only going to amplify his anger. “Agent Shannon, it’s your turn for show and tell. Will you please read the highlighted text for the class?”
“At 11:52 p.m. on this specific day, the phone number associated with Mr. Nam Smith received a text that said, ‘contract fulfilled.’ To which someone with this phone responded with a text that said, ‘It always sucks to be Van but today really sucks. You are worth every penny of the $250k. I’ll be in touch with future gigs.’” Kelly reads.
“And Agent Shannon, what date was that text message sent at 11:52 p.m.?” I ask as I keep my eyes on Nam, who now has beads of sweat running down his forehead and the side of his neck.
“It was sent on July 6th, 2024,” Kelly answers.
“Now Agent Shannon, I think that is very interesting timing, especially when you consider the fact that Mr. Van Tran’s girlfriend was killed at 11:45 p.m. on July 6th, 2024, just seven minutes before this text message exchange,” I say knowing we have him in a corner. “So, let’s review, okay, Nam? We already have you on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and potentially even murder charges since Ms. Nguyen was indeed murdered. We only connected you to all of this within the last twenty-four hours or so, so I’m sure we will find even more to charge you with in addition to what we’ve already found. If you want to have any chance of being offered any kind of deal, you need to cooperate with us right now.”
“My wife is going to kill me if she sees those photographs,” Nam says to himself as he crosses his arm and looks up at the ceiling.
“Well, I’m not married but you should probably do what you can to prevent her from getting one hell of a rude wake-up call this morning, right?” Kelly asks like that’s the obvious answer. “And that’s before you realize she may also be someone that if, I don’t know, say her husband broke her heart, she may call her beloved and well-connected uncle.”
Nam’s face pales even more at the mention of his wife’s uncle. Glaring at me, Nam asks, “What do you want?”
“Two things.” I hold up one finger. “One, I want you to tell me everything you know about The Susurro, including any and all interactions you had with them.” I pause and hold up a second finger. “And two, I want you to contact him for another hit but doing so with our tech so we can trace and locate the individual behind the sniper scope.”
“Do you want a fucking pony too?” Nam blurts out in rage.
“No, I already own plenty of horses. Those two things will do just fine, but thanks for the offer,” I reply without acknowledging his outburst.
“And what do I get?” Nam asks.
“You get to not face your wife’s wrath today, which sounds scary, but not as scary as her uncle’s wrath. If we are able to locate and arrest this individual, you will also have a record of assisting in a federal investigation, which could potentially be helpful when a judge is considering sentencing,” I tell him, fully aware that I’m not making any promises to this spineless weasel.
“So, I get a record of being a snitch and I still have to go to jail? You can fuck right off with that. That’s the shittiest deal of all the shitty deals I’ve ever heard of man!” Nam isn’t impressed but I do need his help here.
“I would be willing to recommend protective custody to ensure your safety if and while incarcerated, unless you wanted me to put in a request that you bunk with one of your wife’s uncle’s associates,” I tell him as his face turns an unnatural shade of chartreuse. “I believe there are quite a few of them serving at Victorville currently, but I’m sure we could figure out which federal prison has the highest current number of affiliated inmates.”
“I can’t do time in California if she finds out. I’ll do whatever you want, but you have to keep me safe.” Nam breaks even earlier than I expected. “And my wife can never see those photos.”
“Let’s start from the beginning,” I tell him without confirming that his wife won’t see the photos. He may be helping us out, but he still ordered the hit on a single mom, taking her away from her daughter forever. If he didn’t want his wife to see these photos at some point, then he shouldn’t have been doing what he was doing with other women in the first place. Karma may be a bitch but when it comes to justice, I like to be one helpful son of a bitch.