The Enraged

CHAPTER 32

Griffin had expected Dima to call already, but here he was, nearly back in DC, and no word from the useless stooge.

While he knew it was only a matter of time before he caught up to Howard and his friends, in the interim Griffin would have to report his short-term failure to Morten. That would not go over well.

He had just taken the Rosslyn/Key Bridge exit when the phone rang.

His first thought was, Finally. His second was, That’s not my normal ringtone.

Even odder, it wasn’t coming from the seat next to him, where his cell sat. The sound was muffled and…under him.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached under his seat and searched for the source of the ring. As the tone stopped, his hand encircled the familiar shape of a phone, and pulled it out.

How the hell did it get into his car?

As he contemplated the question, it rang again. The display read: UNKNOWN. He debated for only a second before answering. “Yes?”

“Mr. Griffin, how’s the drive?”

There was a small empty parking lot ahead on the right. Griffin pulled into it and stopped. “Who is this?”

“From what I understand, I’m someone you want to talk to.”

The tension that had engulfed Griffin moments before suddenly disappeared. Maybe his report to Morten wouldn’t be as gloomy as he’d thought.

“Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Howard? Or are you the other one?”

The silence was short, but unmistakable. Griffin had scored a point. “Call me Steve,” the man said.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve recovered from the accident, Steve.” No response on the other end. Another point scored. “What is it I can do for you?”

“You can tell me why you’re so interested in me and my friends.”

“I would be happy to. Perhaps we can meet somewhere and discuss it.”

The man laughed. “Right. That’s not going to happen. I’m not a fool.”

“If you’re not a fool, then you must know why I’d like to talk to you,” Griffin said, hoping to find out if Howard was even worth worrying about.

“It obviously has something to do with the apartment in Georgetown. Peter’s apartment.”

“Obviously.”

“Specifically, I would say it has something to do with two things.”

Here was the potential prize. “And what would those two things be?”

“You’d like me to tell you, wouldn’t you? I’ll say this much. One has to do with a tiny island in the Caribbean, and one with a leisurely mountain drive in Turkey. Does that help?” Before Griffin could come up with a response, the man said, “I’ll call again.”

Griffin continued to hold the phone against his ear after the line had gone dead.

A tiny island in the Caribbean. A leisurely mountain drive in Turkey.

They knew. Not only about Miranda Keyes, but also about the connection to Romero.

It was the worst-case scenario, and if he didn’t clamp down on it now, he’d never be able to control it.

He had to restrain himself from throwing the phone on the floor. He needed it, needed Howard to call him back. He set it on the passenger seat next to his own cell, and put the car in Drive.

There were things he needed to do before the phone rang again.

Quinn walked back across the room to where Nate, Orlando, and Liz had listened in on the call over Orlando’s computer.

“I’d say that was a direct hit on Miranda Keyes and Peter,” Nate said.

“Absolutely,” Quinn agreed. Griffin had known exactly what Quinn was talking about, which meant there was no question now that the man and the people he worked for were involved in both deaths.

These were the people Peter had been hunting. These were the people Quinn wanted.

“He knew Steve’s name,” Liz said. “He knew about the accident. How could he?”

“The photos taken in front of Peter’s place,” Orlando said.

Quinn nodded. “He must have gotten his hands on them and somehow ID’d Steve that way.”

“I thought Helen Cho had shut down contact between her agency and Griffin,” Orlando said.

“That’s what she told me.” He lifted his phone and tapped the director’s number. As soon as he had Helen on the other end, he said, “Either you lied to me, or you have a leak.”

Director Cho ordered an immediate lockdown of O & O. Cell phones were confiscated, and all nonessential communications were forbidden.

Computer techs began looking through logs that tracked not only landline calls but all cell-phone activity within the facility, searching for the specific unusual activity outlined by Director Cho.

It took only eight minutes to identify a potential suspect, and another three minutes to comb through his personal cell-phone records to confirm that more suspicious calls had occurred when he was away from the building.

When the security detail entered the suspect’s office, Michael Dima — the current Central — looked up from his computer screen in surprise. “Excuse me, but you’re not allowed in here.”

Clyde Witten, head of the detail, took a step forward. “Sir, you will come with us.”

“I will do no such thing. I’m Central. I can’t leave my desk.”

“Relief is on the way, sir. You will come with us.”

Dima made a great show of being outraged as he reached for his phone. “This is ridiculous. I’m calling Director Stone right now.”

Witten stepped forward, yanked the phone out of Dima’s hand, and put it back in its cradle. “You will come with us.”

He grabbed Dima by the arm and pushed him firmly toward the door.

“What’s this all about? You can’t do this! I want to talk to Director Stone.”

“I’ve been told that Director Stone is no longer with O & O,” Witten said. He’d received word of Stone’s “early retirement” straight from Direct Cho when she gave him his current orders.

“What?” Dima said. “Then…then, I, uh, I want to talk to who’s in charge.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Dima was deposited in one of O & O’s interrogation rooms, and told to wait in the chair.

A television monitor on a rolling stand was at the other end of the room. Three minutes after he sat down, it flickered on. Staring back at him was Director Helen Cho.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Dima,” she said.

“Director Cho,” he said, his mouth dry. Though he and everyone at O & O knew what she looked like, he’d never talked to her before.

“I have a few questions for you.”

“How can I help you?” he said, hoping to God this was a mistake and not what he feared it was.

She smiled. “I’m happy to hear you’re willing to cooperate. Why don’t we start with this? Tell me about your relationship with Mr. Griffin from Darvot Consulting.”

Not a mistake.

Exactly what he’d feared.

Director Cho’s news that the leak had been detained solidified the plan in Quinn’s mind. When he told her what he wanted to do and how she could be of assistance, he half expected her to order him to back off and leave the whole mess alone. He would have ignored her, of course, but it didn’t come to that. Her response instead was to make no response at all.

After the silence had gone on for more than twenty seconds, he said, “Does this mean we can count on you?”

More dead air.

“Director?

He heard her take a breath. “We may be many things, but the US government is not in the habit of sanctioning the death of law-abiding citizens, especially for personal gain. Provisionally, you can count on us.”

“Provisionally?”

“There are…others who need to be informed.”

“I don’t know if letting more people in on this is a good idea.”

“It’s the only way you’ll have my support, something you and your people will need. And trust me, the ones I need to talk to won’t say anything.”

“How long do you need?”

“Thirty minutes. An hour at the outside.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

They gathered in Orlando’s room.

Present were Quinn, Nate, Liz, and the other men who’d been rescued from Duran Island — Lanier, Berkeley, and Curson. Daeng, Howard, and Misty were conferenced in via Orlando’s phone, while the Mole was listening in on Nate’s.

The medical staff had not been happy to see everyone piling into the room, but Quinn had squelched the protest after a quick, pointed conversation with Dr. Montero. Unless one of Orlando’s medical alarms went off, no one would enter.

Quinn laid out the details of his plan, then said, “Now is the time for you to tell me if you are unable or unwilling to participate.”

His gaze lingered on the three men who’d been held captive with Nate and Peter. While they had started to recover from their wounds, none of them was at full strength yet. But not one opened his mouth. Instead, they all looked determined and ready.

Quinn glanced at his sister. There was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “You okay?” he asked.

After a second, she nodded. “Yeah.”

“If you have a problem with any of this, speak up.”

“No, it’s just you’ve all lived in this world for a long time. I’m still getting used to it. To most people, something like this would be handled by, I don’t know, I guess the FBI.”

“And in that world, an FBI investigation would be long and complicated, and probably turn into a media fiasco that would affect everything for months or perhaps even years. Chances are, some good people would be taken down because of it. You understand that, right?”

She nodded.

“Personally,” he said, “I don’t give a damn whether there’s an investigation and scandal or not. What I do give a damn about is them.” He gestured at Lanier, Berkeley, and Curson. “And about Nate, and Orlando, and Peter. And Peter’s wife. In our business, we don’t wait years for justice that may or may not come. We deal with it ourselves.” He paused. “I understand if you have a problem with this. If I were you, I’d probably have a problem, too. So if you’d rather not help out, that’s okay.”

Liz looked at him with eyes that matched his own intensity, and her hand slipped into Nate’s. “I never said that. You know I’ll do anything you need me to do.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel about her support. He had never wanted to expose her to his life of secrets and death, but ever since they had reconnected, it seemed that was all he’d done. He was saved from saying anything else by the vibration of his phone.

“You can remove the provisional,” Helen told him. “You have our support.”

“How high does that support go?”

“High enough.”

A beat. “I guess it’s time to get things rolling.”