Chapter 28
Carter
And so, Carter again found himself in an interview room at the FBI field office, again sitting across from Silvia Maldonado and Benjamin Schneider, again with the deputy director of the CIA, Herman Folds, observing by video link.
Except now there was a name for their joint investigation—Operation Safehouse. And now they were really pissed.
“We’ve been trying to find you for a while, Mr. Beck,” Silvia said, shuffling as if she was trying to get comfortable, which was impossible on the plastic chairs—deliberately so, no doubt.
“Have you now?”
She crossed her arms. “I’m puzzled at the extreme efforts you’ve made to evade us.”
“Name a single law I’ve broken.”
“There’s kidnapping, for one.”
“If you’re talking about Alice, she came willingly. I’m sure she’ll confirm.”
“We will,” Silvia said, with a touch of hesitancy. “Why the evasion, Carter?”
“I’m not an easy person to track down at the best of times. I’m just trying to find out the truth in all of this.”
Silvia glanced at Schneider. “As are we.”
“Then why are you trying to make me look guilty? A wanted poster, really?”
“Ever thought you’re making yourself look guilty, by running? That paired with the facts of the case…”
Carter leaned forward. “The facts? The fact is that you have no evidence at all that I was involved in the death of the station chief.”
“The fact is that we now have a credible and very detailed account that aligns with the physical evidence, and puts your hand on the gun when the trigger was pulled. But I, for one, would like to hear your side.”
“You’ve already heard my side. And if you’re talking about the novel, it’s hardly a ‘credible account.’ Nika dictated half of it when she was losing her mind, and Alice made the rest up.”
“Which I’d love to talk to Ms. Thornton about, but you’ve been keeping her from us.”
“You haven’t picked her up?”
Silvia glanced at her phone, which was on the table in front of her.
“I’m just waiting for confirmation of that.
And yes,” she said, returning her focus to Carter, “in itself, the novel might not be credible. But in conjunction with the video evidence, the murder weapon found in Ms. Vasnetsova’s apartment, the motive, her escape from Moscow, your undisclosed relationship, the blood on her boots—it came back a DNA match for the victim, you know. ”
“The boots… Wait—does the FBI still have them?”
“Well, yes,” said Silvia, surprised at the question.
“We’re not in the habit of releasing evidence that puts someone at the scene of a crime.
They’ll be in the evidence lockup. In fact, I know they are, because we received a request last year from Ms. Vasnetsova to have them back, and we turned her down.
And now, according to her account in the book, she’s put you in the safehouse with her.
In fact, in light of current developments, we had forensics re-examine the crime scene photos.
They’ve concluded from the pattern of blood spatter that two people were indeed standing by the victim when the gun went off, not one as we earlier assumed. ”
Carter frowned, picturing the crime scene photos. Then he flinched.
“Mr. Beck?”
“She was in the closet,” he said, thinking aloud.
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. She was hiding. If I was the shooter—which I wasn’t—and if she was in on it, why would she hide?”
Silvia looked genuinely surprised. “We don’t know she was hiding.”
“She was in the closet, looking out through the slats. I hadn’t thought about it before.”
“You know this how?”
“You showed me those photos. You’re right—there was blood spatter everywhere. But the closet was wide open, empty. You could see the white wall at the back of it.”
Silvia shook her head. “I don’t see your point.”
“The wall at the back of the closet was pristine white. No spatter, even though it sprayed in that direction. Which means the closet door was closed when the shooting happened. Which suggests she was hiding in it. But she had a clear enough view, through the slats, to be able to describe it in the book!”
“Or maybe you searched the closet after the killing, and left the door open afterward?” Schneider said.
“It’s not just that. The photo you showed me, of her cleaning her boots—if she was standing in that room when the trigger was pulled, she’d have blood all over her, not just on the boots.
But she didn’t. The boots must have gotten blood on them after the shooting—she probably went to check if he had a pulse.
She met me at the train station wearing the same coat that’s in the footage.
There was no blood on it—and I’m guessing it’s not as easy to wipe blood off a cream wool coat as it is from a pair of shoes. ”
“Oh, so you can suddenly remember specific details in a photo you saw eighteen months ago?” Schneider said. “You can remember what she was wearing that day?”
“Yes, I can.”
“He has a photographic memory,” Silvia said.
Schneider grunted a reluctant concession.
Carter rapped his fingertips on the table. “The shooter didn’t know she was there. Maybe the station chief hid her from the real killers.”
“I’m not interested in your theories,” Schneider said. “We have quite enough to hold you on, Mr. Beck. Sometimes things are simply what they seem: a spy and her handler gone rogue in order to escape to the U.S. together.”
Carter inhaled and exhaled. “You have security footage showing that I wasn’t there.”
“Ah, but that’s the problem, these days, isn’t it?
Footage can be manipulated. Photos, videos, audio—they’re not the concrete evidence they used to be.
Doctoring techniques being what they are, anything can be tinkered with in a way that’s impossible for even experts to detect. It’s making my job harder and harder.”
“Amazing how inconvenient evidence suddenly is no longer ‘credible.’ Anyway, once Alice testifies that she made up the part about me pulling the trigger, you have nothing on me.”
“Unfortunately, her testimony may be unreliable.”
“How so?”
Schneider brought up a photo on his laptop. “Look at this and tell me what you see. For the record, I am showing Mr. Beck a still from a security camera taken this morning in a street near the public hospital in Montrose, Virginia.”
“That’s me and Alice, as you can see.” Carter fought the instinct to sound defensive.
“And what are you doing in this photo?”
“You really want me to explain?”
“For the purposes of the video recording, Mr. Beck and Ms. Thornton are engaged in an intimate activity.”
Carter gave a hollow laugh. “That’s what you’re calling it? Maybe the photo’s been manipulated.”
“Mr. Beck,” Silvia said, “are you in a relationship with Alice Thornton?”
“No.”
“And yet, this photo…?”
“I only met her a couple of days ago.”
“And in that time, did you begin an intimate relationship with her?”
Carter swallowed, and regretted it as both pairs of eyes across from him briefly dipped focus to his throat. He didn’t answer.
Silvia tapped the tip of a pen on the table. “We have a witness who confirms Ms. Thornton admitted she is in a sexual relationship with you.”
Schneider grinned. “Seems it’s becoming something of a pattern.”
“Mr. Beck, juries are fickle beings,” Silvia continued. “First Ms. Vasnetsova, now Ms. Thornton—this is not painting you to be a stand-up guy. Help me out here.”
“That has nothing to do with Moscow. I didn’t kill the guy, and I didn’t conspire with Nika to do anything. End of story. Even if your version of events was correct—which it isn’t—why would either of us kill him if Nika had already got what she wanted?”
Silvia shrugged. “Maybe he was refusing to give the documents to you? Maybe he was putting conditions on it.”
“If this evidence is so strong, why did you guys let Nika go, when she first arrived in America?”
Silvia’s gaze darted Schneider’s way. “I’m not in a position to disclose that.”
“Because you don’t know, do you? Who gave the order?”
“Again, I’m not in a position to disclose that.”
“Oh, come on,” Carter said, leaning back and linking his fingers behind his head.
“Someone pulled the pin, and I can see from your face right now that you still don’t know why.
You were sidelined in your own investigation, weren’t you, Deputy Chief Maldonado?
” He released his hands. “But he knows.” Carter nodded at Schneider.
“This is bullshit,” Schneider said, ignoring Silvia’s curious gaze.
“Let me ask you one easy question,” Carter continued. “What happened to the video of Nika’s interrogation in this very building?”
Silvia frowned. “What happened to it? It’ll be cataloged alongside the other evidence.”
“I suggest you check it’s still there—my source says it’s not. And did you sit in on Nika’s entire interrogation?”
“Most of it.”
“Not all? So … not at the end, when she negotiated whatever deal it was that made the whole thing go away.”
Silvia’s mouth tightened. “Mr. Beck, what do you claim to know here?”
“You’ve never thought there was something more to this?”
“Like what?”
Schneider interrupted. “We’re getting side-tracked. I suggest we come back to the—”
“Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll get you some answers.”
“Let you go?” Silvia said. “You know we can’t. You just admitted yourself—you’re a hard man to find. But if you tell me where to look for whatever it is you have…”
“Who says you won’t destroy anything that doesn’t fit the narrative? Like the interview video.”
“Hey, slow down with the conspiracy theories. Are you saying I would risk my job and my freedom to incriminate you? Why would I? We’re on the same side here—the side of justice.
The only ‘narrative’ I want is the truth.
If you have evidence that would clear your name, implicate the real perpetrator, for God’s sake share it with us. ”
“I’ve had more people try to kill me in the last week than in five years spying in Moscow, so you’ll forgive me for not knowing who to trust.”
“You’re bluffing,” Schneider declared. “You don’t have any ‘answers.’”
“Let me tell you one thing: I have a copy of a notice of an international wire transfer of $120,000 into the account of a former security guard at Langley.”
Silvia raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“The same guy was pursuing me in Baltimore yesterday, with an armed buddy who is also ex-CIA. I can give you names.”
“How does this relate to the case I’m investigating?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. That and why Nika had this information, and much, much more—and how she used it to get red-carpet entry into the U.S.
Twenty-four hours, and I’ll bring you a fuller picture.
The names in these documents?” He shot a glance at Schneider, who had the air of a guy who looked worried but was trying to hide it.
“Some of them would blow your mind. Unless you don’t want the full picture… ”
“What is this?” Schneider said. “A stalling tactic?”
“Tell me where to look,” Silvia said. “Let me help you. Where is this evidence?”
“As a first step, if you show me the evidence you have on this—the physical evidence—I suspect we’ll discover something interesting, something that was overlooked.”
Silvia frowned. “There can’t be a whole lot of it. It’s not like we have evidence from the crime scene.”
“Still…”
Schneider threw up his hands. “Now you really are wasting our time.”
There was a knock on the door and it opened. “Sorry to interrupt,” a man said grimly, his face shielded from Carter’s view. “You’ll want to come and hear this.”
Carter’s interrogators left. He couldn’t make out more than a rumble of voices from the corridor.
Was it something to do with Alice? If they were going to find her, they would have by now—and they’d be using it to put pressure on Carter.
She had to have skipped out. She had no phone or transport, but she’d taken her purse, so she’d have access to money, though they’d be monitoring her debit cards.
But if she didn’t know Carter had been picked up, she might assume he’d given up on her.
If she could get to the apartment and get access to the list and the kompromat…
Might be time for him to lawyer up, and get the lawyer to make a public statement about him being detained—which would also give Alice a point of contact to get help. One of his mom’s book club friends was a lawyer—a human rights lawyer, but close enough.
When Silvia returned, followed by Schneider, there was a new tension in their faces.
“Carter,” Silvia said, without sitting down. She showed him a photo on her phone. “Do you recognize this van? I know it’s not very clear—it’s from a police body-worn camera.”
“It’s a white van. Can’t even see a license plate.”
“You recognize the street though?”
“A lane behind the hospital in Montrose, near where your guys picked me up. I recognize the florist on the corner.”
“This van drove away with Alice Thornton inside, shortly after we picked you up. There was a pursuit but we lost it—we’re checking surveillance cameras, but they obviously had an escape route planned. Here’s another photo—Ms. Thornton approaching the van, seconds before it leaves.”
Carter tried to speak but his throat had dried up. A white van…
“The man driving…” Silvia said, swiping to another photo. “Here’s a close-up. A little blurry but he’s a Russian illegal we lost track of some years ago.”
The Daisy Sparkles guy.
“Wanted for torturing and murdering another Russian national,” Schneider added.
“If he’s risked blowing cover to grab her, he’s not planning to mess around.
You’ve seen him before, haven’t you? A van similar to this was photographed by our agents arriving at Ms. Thornton’s school, around the time you were there, two days ago. ”
“Carter,” Silvia said, pulling a chair around the table to sit adjacent to him, rather than opposite, “you know as well as I do, every minute she’s missing makes it less likely she’ll ever be found. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want that.”