Hotel
W ilson reported to Shepherd’s office at zero nine hundred for the pre-mission briefing on the next CIA Referral Case. He was assigned in Sloan’s place. On the team that would be deploying were Cooper and Madison, Garcia, Doc, Michael Cooper, and himself. Six team members had become the normal staffing level for most of these cases. It was what seemed to work best.
He learned that Delta Team members Lambchop, Mother, and Sherman plus Echo Team members Roth and BT, and Bravo Team lead Flores, had left earlier that morning on a low threat DEA Partner Mission. The CIA mission would not deploy until the afternoon when the company jet returned from delivering them to Kansas City. With five complete teams, the juggling of staff and assignments had become difficult for Wilson to keep up with. The rest of his team, Charlie Team, were still on the next PGP Install.
“You’ll fly out on our Lear at thirteen hundred,” Shepherd began. “Baltimore, Maryland is your destination. We have not been given access to the CIA’s recordings of what exactly was picked up leading to our mission regarding our target, one Bradford Bianchi, as I was told their investigation is ongoing, however, what we do know is that Bradford Bianchi is not a principal in their case.”
“Did they even tell you what we’re supposed to be investigating on him?” Doc asked.
“The only direction we were given was that his communications with a Saudi businessman aren’t benign,” Shepherd replied.
“The Digital Team has dug into him and didn’t find any red flags. Known email and phone numbers show nothing concerning, so I have no idea what the CIA means by not benign,” Garcia said. “He works overnights, Tuesday through Friday at MRG Enterprises. It’s a large freight transfer facility at the Port of Baltimore, mostly dry bulk goods coming in on international shipping containers. Their audits have all been clean. In his job function, emailing and talking with international customers is in his job description.”
“Baltimore is known for its organized crime syndicate. Is this guy connected?” Cooper asked.
“There are no signs of it,” Garcia answered. “Bianchi’s forty-two years old with no record, doesn’t seem to have relationships with people who are known or suspected of criminal activity.”
“That’s hard to believe,” Cooper countered. “Italian families are all connected in some way, through business affiliations, if not socially.”
“This guy seems to be an outlier,” Garcia said. “Which could be suspicious in itself.”
“Keep the Digital Team looking into him,” Shepherd ordered.
“Shep, can you press the CIA for a direction? Are we talking weapons, bitcoin or other untraceable currency, links with known terrorist groups, or another angle as simple as drugs or money laundering? Going into it without any direction is asinine,” Doc complained.
“My discussions with Mason are ongoing,” Shepherd said.
Beauregard Mason was the deputy director at the CIA and Shepherd’s contact. He was also a cagey sonofabitch who habitually didn’t share info that would make their job easier.
“I’ll push Bianchi’s bio and what the Digital Team found on him out to each of you to study. Try to get to it before the flight to Baltimore,” Garcia said. “Michael and Wilson, you’ll want to catch a nap at some point. The three of us are going in as new employees from the contractor service the transfer facility uses to acquire staff. We’re on from nineteen hundred tonight until seven hundred tomorrow. They pull twelve-hour shifts.”
“Madison and I will staff our onsite HQ, run down leads if needed, and find a few hours in there for us each to sleep,” Cooper said.
“Your onsite HQ will be a Residence Inn a few blocks outside of the Port of Baltimore. Angel could only book you a one-bedroom unit. You’ll be hot-bunking it,” Shepherd said.
That didn’t matter to Wilson, and he was sure no one else would have a problem with it, either. “Are there metal detectors the employees have to pass through to gain access to the job?” Wilson asked. If he could carry his weapon was more of a concern to him.
“Negative,” Garcia answered. “Unfortunately, that means anyone else could be carrying as well. If anyone suspicious pops up in our onsite interactions, you can run them through the Digital Team as well. But try not to overwhelm them. Down on the docks, we won’t run into many choirboys.”
The team chuckled.
“Okay, questions?” Shepherd asked. He was wrapping up the briefing.
All replied in the negative.
“Okay, keep me apprised of your progress, Coop. We’re only going to give this three days onsite and if nothing obvious pops up, we’ll pull the plug on it. The Digital Team has already put in a total of sixty hours on this and found nothing concerning about this guy. If Mason doesn’t give us more, we’re not wasting too much more of our time on it.” He stood.
The team followed suit, and all came to their feet as well. Wilson followed the others out of Shepherd’s office. Cooper was the last out. He closed the door. “Okay, we meet in the garage at thirteen hundred.”
Wilson took advantage of the free time to go downstairs to sub-basement level two, to the gym. He needed a good workout. He put himself through an intense routine of cardio and weighted machines in solitude, earbuds in, his classic rock playlist blasting. Physical exertion always helped him focus. After a shower, he settled in at his desk in his office to do an initial read-through of the file on their target that the Digital Team had put together.
Garcia wasn’t kidding. There was zilch on this guy that could be thought of as concerning. He appeared to be a model citizen. He even paid the rent and living expenses for his elderly mother in an assisted living facility and his elderly father moved in with him the year before when his mother had a stroke and required round-the-clock care. At work, his evals were always above expectation in the ranking by his superiors. He rarely called in sick, used his vacation time, and appeared to be your average Joe in every way.
What could have shown up on a CIA surveillance job concerning this guy, or about an associate of this guy? Saudi business dealing was what Garcia had said. It could have been a legitimate business communication that the CIA mistook for something more nefarious. It wouldn’t be the first time they got it wrong.
Next, he Googled what crime was most prevalent in Saudi Arabia, even though he was pretty sure it was corruption and fraud. Uncle Google confirmed his memory was correct. Corruption in the form of nepotism and using middlemen to secure business dealings was common.
Maybe that was it. Maybe Bianchi was a middleman who helped facilitate business, which would be considered a crime in the U.S. and a sketchy gray area that passed muster in Saudi Arabia. And of course, if it involved product shipping either way, the legality of the product could be questioned.
Wilson met the remainder of the team in the garage at the appointed time and they quickly loaded the two vehicles they’d take to Chicago Executive Airport, where the Lear would meet them. Once on the plane, they buckled in to accommodate the fast turnaround time the pilots had planned. It wasn’t until they were airborne that the team discussed the case.
“Since this case is linked to Saudi Arabia, we can discount it’s drug related,” Garcia said.
“The population as a whole has little involvement with drugs,” Doc argued.
“But that doesn’t mean a particular business man isn’t helping another trafficker from a different country move their product to the United States,” Cooper spoke up.
“I’m more inclined to think our unlucky target is a middleman, taking bribes to help this Saudi businesses product clear customs,” Wilson said.
“What product?” Madison asked.
“It doesn’t matter. Accepting bribes to help shipping containers clear customs is a crime,” Wilson answered.
“Even if the product in them is legal, it’s a crime to accept a bribe,” agreed Madison.
“What product does Saudi Arabia export besides petroleum and petroleum products? Very little else,” Cooper said. “And petroleum isn’t coming through the Port of Baltimore within Bianchi’s job function. It’s something else.”
“So, this Saudi Businessman is the middleman?” Wilson threw out. “I wish we could get his ID. That would help give a possible direction.”
Cooper doubted Shepherd could get the name out of Mason, but he sent Shepherd a text anyway. He requested Shepherd try and he provided their reasons behind wanting it.
Their discussion ended soon after, and Wilson laid his head back to catch a nap. He woke as the aircraft descended.
Later, Garcia, Michael Cooper, and Wilson reported to the facility where Bianchi worked. Garcia’s job assignment was in the computer center, where he could investigate Bianchi’s online activities at work. Wilson was positioned as a laborer so he could poke around to see if anything illegal was coming through the port, and Michael was in the same division as Bianchi. He’d have eyes on him all day.
It was nearly the end of the shift. Wilson’s foreman, Aiello, was a guy who’d worked at the port for nearly twenty years. He claimed to know the ins and outs of everything port related. Wilson was given easy, short assignments that he completed quickly. It wasn’t brain surgery. The one thing he did notice was that Aiello disappeared a lot.
Wilson came around the corner of the metal shipping container. There were four men about ten feet in front of him, huddled to the side of the container. They all stuffed something into their pockets as soon as they saw him. It looked like cash to Wilson, large handfuls of cash. Three of them moved away. Aiello moved towards him.
“Look, you didn’t just see anything,” Aiello said.
“I honestly didn’t,” Wilson said with a shrug.
“Smart man,” Aiello said.
“No, I really didn’t, and I don’t care what that was about,” Wilson said.
“What are you doing on this side of the floor?” Aiello asked.
“That skinny dude with the square glasses sent me over to find you to assign me my next job,” Wilson said.
“Okay, yeah, I can use you over here,” Aiello said. He directed Wilson to help a group of other workers stack containers at the far end of the facility.
Even though all three men wore their comms, Wilson didn’t report the incident. He’d wait until after work to discuss it with the team. The rest of the shift was uneventful.
After the end of the shift, Wilson hung back, watching the rest of the crew clock out to see who did what and to try to get an ID on the three men he saw with Aiello and the cash. After he’d clocked out, Wilson began walking towards the nearest public transportation stop, which was the designated place he’d be picked up by Garcia, who drove the car. From there, they’d circle and pick up Michael, who walked in the opposite direction upon clocking out, hopefully unseen by Bianchi or any of the workers.
Garcia pulled up to the curb beside him. As Wilson opened the door, he glanced around. Behind the wheel of a car several back from Garcia, Wilson saw Aiello behind the wheel. He was watching them. Wilson knew Aiello had left the building ahead of him as he’d watched him clock out. Aiello should have been long gone by that point. Had Aiello waited and followed him?
“I think my foreman may be following me,” he told Garcia when he got into the car. “Blue Toyota a few cars back.”
“Let’s see if he is,” Garcia said. He pulled into another parking lot and pulled a U-turn, heading back towards the main employee parking lot.
As they passed Aiello’s car, Wilson kept his face straight ahead, but through a side glance watched Aiello’s head follow them as they passed him. “He just gave himself whiplash,” Wilson said. Wilson told Garcia about what he’d witnessed regarding the money.
“You got IDs on those three other guys?” Garcia asked.
Wilson shot him an outraged look. “Please,” he said. “Of course, I do. Got pics of their timecards for you to rundown.”
“What do you think the cash was about?”
“No clue. But they scattered as soon as they saw me.”
Wilson kept a look out for Aiello’s car as they circled back to the pickup location for Michael. There was no sign of him all the way back to the hotel, which was a ten-minute drive. There, the team had a short meeting to go over the events overnight.
“How much cash are we talking?” Doc asked.
“I didn’t see the face on the bills, but each man had a big wad wrapped in a rubber band. And they didn’t like that I’d seen them, either,” Wilson said.
“Do you really think your foreman was following you?” Madison asked.
“It sure looked like it. He had a clear lane to merge into when Garcia picked me up, but he didn’t. He stayed where he was, watching whose car I was getting into.”
“The money could have been for anything,” Cooper said. “It may or may not be related to Bianchi. Make a point of staying out of that guy’s way for now and let’s focus on Bianchi. We can always revisit the cash angle and become a thorn in this guy’s side later.”
“Keep your head on the swivel on the shop floor, Wilson,” Garcia said. “Ports and dockworkers are traditionally mafia strongholds. And you saw something you shouldn’t have.”
“Thanks,” Wilson replied sarcastically.
“Just saying, that could be enough to get you killed.” Garcia paused just long enough to laugh. “But don’t worry, we’ve got your back.”
“Make sure you stay on comms and broadcast a nine-one-one if you have even a feeling something isn’t right,” Madison added. “You too, Garcia. If this guy is into something, just remember he saw you with Wilson.”
Now Wilson chuckled while slapping Garcia on the back. “That’s right, they may want to fit you for a pair of cement shoes right along with me.”
“I think the expression is cement overshoes,” Madison posed. “And I don’t want either one of you wearing a pair.”
“Michael, you sat several desks away from Bianchi. What did you pick up regarding him?” Cooper asked his brother.
“Not much. He only got up from his desk three times the entire shift, once for lunch break and twice more to hit the head. And before you ask, yes, I kept him in sight the entire time. I used the stall next to him when he took a shit after lunch and stood several urinals down when he took a piss in the morning. I washed my hands at the sink during his afternoon piss. From what I could see of his work area, his cell phone never came out, and he appeared to be diligently working the entire shift.”
“That jives with his computer activity. Bianchi was active in the company portal all day, closing out work forms left and right. And looking back over his history, he’s always been a top performer,” Garcia said. “The guy just pushes a massive amount of work through the system.”
“Did he send any overseas emails?” Cooper asked.
“Only about five an hour,” Garcia said with a laugh. “They were form letters he filled in info into specific fields. It all looked legit. Even the incoming emails he handled didn’t appear suspicious. And all phone calls are recorded for audit purposes. I listened to a few and heard nothing that sent up red flags.”
“Okay, so maybe it was something he did from a personal account out of work that flagged with the CIA,” Cooper said. “Maybe we need to have Madison make contact with him out of work.”
“From what the Digital Team dug up; he goes to that bar near his home every night he isn’t working,” Garcia reminded them.
“I’ll go starting tonight. Talk up the bartender, become a person they’re comfortable with over the next few nights,” Madison said. “Hopefully, the bartender will do the introductions when he comes in.”
“Sounds good,” Cooper agreed. “We’re going to need another car. Aiello saw the two of you together. I want Michael to steer clear of you both at work and when you’re traveling to and from the job.”
“Does that mean I get my own car?” Michael asked.
Cooper nodded. “Doc and I will go with Madison to the bar and run surveillance and back up for all of you from the car parked outside it.”
“Or we could just get me a car,” Madison said.
Yeah, Wilson knew that wasn’t going to happen. Cooper would not send her into an unknown situation without him being nearby for backup.
“Blondie, you know no one goes in without backup,” Cooper said.
Wilson knew the moment any of them assumed a case had no risk associated with it was when the danger would rear its ugly head. Even if it turned out that Bianchi was clean, there was still that business with the large handfuls of cash, which he had to believe was probably mafia related.