Every Second

34

Manhattan, New York

Dan Fulton’s in the vault, opening his briefcase, unfolding a duffel bag, filling it with bricks of cash then leaving the bank. Now he’s walking hurriedly to his Ford Taurus in the near-empty parking lot, driving out of the west exit.

“Run it again, Steph,” Varner said.

Agent Stephanie Transki, the New York FBI’s forensic video expert, clicked her mouse, replaying the security video taken inside SkyNational Trust Branch 487. They’d received it at the FBI’s New York division some thirty minutes earlier from the bank’s security team. The recording was packaged with footage from exterior cameras monitoring the building.

The contrast was good, the images clean and sharp. The exterior recording had captured two parked cars in the lot belonging to the tellers who’d opened the bank, but no other movement or individuals.

No new leads here, Varner thought.

“Okay, thanks, Steph. We’re still working on getting you video from the businesses nearby.” Varner checked his watch. “We don’t have much time for you to get this segment ready for the media at the press conference.”

“Don’t worry, Nick, I’ll have it ready.”

Varner headed for his floor. He stopped off at the cafeteria for a coffee. He’d missed lunch and grabbed an apple, biting into it in the elevator on his way to the twenty-eighth floor. Leaving the elevator, Varner went down the main reception hall, past the framed photos of executive agents. He glanced at the display nearby honoring agents killed in the line of duty as the result of a direct adversarial force, the “Service Martyrs.”

Entering his section, he saw that most members of his squad were at their desks, working the phones and studying data. As he began making notes to prepare for the press conference, he found a story in the online edition of the New York Post.

Mob Link to Queens Bank Heist Investigated: Source

The story alleged that the robbery of a bank in Queens had to do with “bad blood” between the branch manager and a businessman with ties to the mob. It reported that bank manager Dan Fulton robbed his own branch after telling “shocked bank staff” his family had been taken hostage, according to an “inside source.”

Varner cursed to himself after digesting the story.

What a load of BS.

Maybe the source was from the NYPD’s 115th Precinct, or maybe a disgruntled employee, or one of Luca Bazerinni’s competitors was spreading this bull.

It doesn’t matter who it is. This kind of crap hurts us.

Varner didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had to focus on the facts.

Jerricko Titus Blaine was their suspect.

His were the only prints tied to the crime. But he couldn’t have acted alone. The FBI and NYPD were working their confidential informants for any intel from the street as to who was behind the robbery. So far, nothing had surfaced. It could’ve had something to do with the fact that Blaine was in his early twenties, had no criminal record.

And, he’d left a print, suggesting he was not an experienced criminal.

Something’s out of place here.

Varner opened Blaine’s photo.

Looking at it, he recalled how one NYPD detective had raised the suspicion of a terrorist connection. Varner, being a member of the New York’s Joint Terrorism Task Force, the JTTF, had not ruled that out. There were JTTFs in over one hundred cities in the US, made up of an array of local, state and federal agencies, all monitoring possible threats in their jurisdictions. New York City had the largest JTTF, and as a member, Varner had access to many resources that were shared nationwide.

One of them was Guardian, a database holding information about threat reports, questionable incidents and other intelligence information. Members entered suspicious activity reports, which could be viewed or searched immediately by all of Guardian’s authorized system users. Once Blaine’s name had surfaced, Varner took the precaution of submitting it and a summary of the case to Guardian.

He logged in to check for any results.

Nothing.

He logged out.

Apart from Guardian, Blaine’s name had also been submitted to a spectrum of national security databases, watch lists and no-fly lists.

Nothing had emerged. He was clear.

Something’s up with this one. What am I missing?

He repeated the question to the framed photo of his wife, Jennifer.

Help me here, Jenn, what am I missing?

Varner’s heart softened. As he took in her smile he could almost smell her, feel her and hear her laugh. It’d been three years since he’d lost her to brain cancer, just when they’d started talking about having children. His life was never the same. Every year since, he’d run in the charity marathons with her photo tucked into his participant badge, so it faced his heart. Not a day passed that he didn’t ache for her.

Next to the photo, he noticed a reporter’s business card tucked in with some papers. Pulling it out, a different woman’s face came to mind.

Kate Page.

She haunted him because her eyes held the same spark, the same intensity as Jenn’s. She was a firebrand, one of the best reporters he’d encountered. She frustrated him, yet he was drawn to her.

Varner shifted his attention to preparing for the press conference and continued working until his phone rang.

“Varner.”

“Nick, Bill Kendrick in Los Angeles. Sounds like Wade Darden, our RA in Orange County, got something out of Santa Ana.”

“Better give it to me fast, Bill. I’m heading into a news conference.”

“When Lori Fulton was with the Santa Ana PD, she used her maiden name, Wallace. She was involved in a shooting where her partner was killed, and she killed his shooter. The shooter was Malcolm Jordan Samadyh, but-get this-his little brother is Jerricko Titus Blaine.”

Varner was stunned. “Damn.”

“I know. We’ll send you everything.”

“All right. I’ve gotta go, but, thanks, Bill. And thank Wade and Santa Ana.”

Varner had less than ten minutes before the press conference but first he had to alert his boss…

He hurried from his desk to brief his supervisor face-to-face.