The Wrong Man

71

“I don’t think you did much to that cop.” Lee Tucker was dressed comfortably as always in his standard look, a blue sport coat, white shirt, and jeans. He had a scrappy look, a wiry frame and rough complexion, long dishwater-blond hair.

I’d worked with Lee before. He’d been the case agent assigned by the FBI to me during the investigation of Governor Carlton Snow. That was a long story; suffice it to say the two of us generally got along but had the occasional rock in the road.

Lee had agreed to meet me here, and the county attorney, who had offices in the criminal courthouse, had given us a room on the eighth floor during the trial’s lunch recess.

I laid out everything I knew to date: Kathy Rubinkowski, her cryptic notes, what I’d learned about Global Harvest and Randall Manning and the associated companies.

“I think these guys might be building a bomb,” I concluded.

Tucker wasn’t assigned to counterterrorism. He handled political corruption, always a booming business in this city. But he’d been around the block and digested the information quickly.

He perused the notes he’d taken. “So this company sells ammonium nitrate fertilizer to another company it purchased. And they register the sales with the state and federal governments. So that’s perfectly legal, right?”

“Yes. I think there might be something unusual going on with those sales, because they were so sensitive about them-”

“Right, no, I got that. And you don’t know if they even sold that company nitromethane, the other ingredient?”

“I don’t. Trying to find out.”

“So right now, all we can say is this company legally sold a product to another company.”

I nodded. “Same thing I told my associate, Lee. I get it. Maybe this doesn’t give you PC to search-”

“It sure as hell doesn’t.”

“-but you can knock on their door, can’t you? I mean, maybe if they know you’ve noticed them, they slow down what they’re doing. And we build a case, meanwhile.”

“We,” he said. “ We build a case.” He nodded generally to the door. “Could I be so bold as to assume that this is going to help you with that case you got going there?”

“I don’t deny that. Yes, it will. But these guys might be building bombs, Lee. It’s bigger than my case.”

He accepted that but with skepticism. I think it’s fair to say that he’d learned, after our last go-round, not to underestimate me. He thought I was using him to make my case, that I’d call him as a witness to testify that the FBI was actively investigating a terrorist threat regarding Global Harvest, that kind of thing.

“Lee, there’s a time to bullshit and there’s a time to get fucking serious. This is the get-fucking-serious time. These people are scary customers. A paralegal and a lawyer are dead. They’ve tried to kill me. I’d bet my law license they’re up to something big here.”

He thought for a moment. “You get any photos of them firing those assault rifles?”

I shook my head. “They confronted me before I could do it. I screwed up.”

Tucker folded up his small notepad and wagged it at me. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. I’ve got the information.”

I love how these guys talk. Reveal absolutely nothing. Not even a simple We’ll take a look. Just a simple confirmation that he heard what I said.

Which meant, if my history with the FBI was any guide, that they would do whatever they were going to do and keep me completely in the dark about it from start to finish.

Still, I exhaled with relief. I’d done what I could do. I’d handed this over to the experts. I’d keep doing my own investigating, but the feds had resources I couldn’t dream of.

I knew Randall Manning and those guys were up to something.

I just hoped the FBI would take me seriously.