The Borrowed and Blue Murders (The Zoe Hayes Mysteries) (22 page)

Maybe the answer was simple: The drives were there because they belonged to him. Maybe they contained records of his software designs and business reports. But if they were Tony’s, why hadn’t he noticed them missing? Why hadn’t he asked us if we’d seen them and sent us all searching? I thought of how he’d searched for his lost pocket change. He’d told us about a lost handful of quarters; certainly he’d have mentioned lost computer files. No, his silence didn’t make sense.

Unless they weren’t his. Because if they weren’t his, he might not even have known they’d been in his pocket, much less that they were missing. And that’s where my thoughts turned grisly. The jump drives, after all, were small. Small enough to be inserted into a rectum or a vagina. If you had to, you might even be able to wash them down with water, hide them for a while in your intestinal tract. But if you didn’t have time to stuff them into a body cavity, they were also small enough that you could drop them into a stranger’s pocket during a feigned accidental collision. If you had to, you could pretend you were out jogging and that you’d tripped and, oops, fumbled against some guy out to pick up his morning paper and—oh my God. I got it. I understood exactly what had happened.

Agent Harris had hidden the jump drives in Tony’s sweats. Knowing she was about to be caught, she’d grabbed onto Tony and passed them into his pocket. Her murderers had searched her body, inside and out, to no avail and they’d retraced her final steps, identified Tony and accosted him, threatened him, even searched the house where he was staying. Nobody had mistaken Tony for Eli. Nobody had mistaken Tony for anybody. Tony had been attacked for bumping into Agent Harris, for receiving the information she’d been transporting.

I had no idea what was on those drives, who was looking for them or to whom they rightfully belonged, but I was certain of one thing: As long as we had them in our possession, we were— all of us—in danger.

Molly carried the glasses to the table carefully, one at a time so she wouldn’t drop them. I set out the plates, praising the way she had arranged the silverware, acting as normal as I could, given that two possibly deadly devices were sitting on my desk in the next room.

T
HE MINUTE THE BROTHERS
stepped inside the house, I pulled Nick away, dragging him into my office, telling him about the jump drives.

“Wait; what? Slow down.”

“These.” I held them out. “This is what the whole thing is about.”

He glanced at the jump drives, then at me.

“Agent Harris slipped them into Tony’s pocket—she must have. And they must have fallen out or something, because Oliver got into them, and Molly took them from Oliver, and I took them from Molly.”

Nick took one from me, held it up, examining it.

“That’s what those guys beat Tony up for. They’re what the FBI guys are looking for, and they’re the reason the house was ransacked.”

“Hmm.”

Hmm?

“So that’s what they’re after. They called today.”

“Who?”

“They told Tony they’re coming back for these. They wanted to come by tomorrow, but we didn’t know what the hell they wanted, so Tony stalled them off, saying the feds were all over him. So they said they’re calling back tomorrow to arrange a pickup. At least now we know what they want to pick up.”

Nick took the drives to my computer, sat down and booted up.

“We’re going to look at them?”

He swiveled around to face me. “If they’re any good. Oliver chewed them up pretty bad.”

“But they might be secret. I mean should we know what’s on them?”

“Zoe. Calm down. Let’s just see if they’re really what you think they are, okay?” He didn’t believe me.

“What else could they be?”

“They could be junk Oliver picked up in the street. They could be Tony’s or Sam’s. And I don’t want to rush them over to the FBI unless I’m sure this is really—”

“Well, if you think they’re Sam’s or Tony’s, why don’t we just ask them?”

“Ask them what?” Tony’s head popped through the door.

Great. I’d wanted to keep the conversation with Nick private. Now, it would be a family affair.

“Are you missing any jump drives?”

He hesitated, focused his attention. “Any what?”

“You know, these memory things.” I held up the one Nick wasn’t using. “For the computer.”

“No. I mean, maybe. I might be.” He seemed edgy. “Why?”

“Molly had some, and we don’t know who they belong to.”

He stepped into the office, eyeing the drive in my hand. “Where did they come from? Where were they?”

“Oliver had them. Molly found him chewing on them.”

“Oliver had them?” he repeated, his eyes glazing. “Molly found them? Where were they?”

“In the living room, on your sweat suit.”

He touched his forehead. “My sweat suit?”

But he didn’t finish because Nick interrupted, banging his fist on my desk. “Damn. The damned thing requires a password.”

“A password?” Now I was repeating.

Nick nodded. “There’s no way we’ll be able to guess what it is. Let me try the other one.”

I handed it to him, and he tried to place it into the computer slot.

“Dammit. This one won’t even go in.” He jiggled and finessed the drive, but it wouldn’t fit into the designated hole. “That goddam dog really mangled this thing. I can’t do it; they’ll have to put some nerds on this.”

Nick sighed and swiveled to face us.

“So what should we do? Take them to the FBI?” I wanted the things out of the house, away from my family.

Tony’s eyes darted from Nick to the computer and back. “The FBI? So, you’re seriously saying you think that agent passed those to me? Is that what you’re saying? That those drives are the reason I got beat up? The reason she got killed?” He seemed to have trouble assembling the information.

“It’s a good possibility, given everything that’s happened.” Nick stood, took the jump drives. “Wouldn’t you say?” He headed for the door.

“So where are you going?”

“Got to follow proper channels. These need to go to the feds; they might be critical evidence. But I got to deliver them to the Roundhouse, to the detective in charge.”

Tony was at Nick’s tail. “Who is that exactly?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I mean, what do you think is on them?”

Nick shrugged. “Well, Harris was assigned to Homeland Security. Whatever it is, it’s important.”

Oh God. The information on those drives might be of grave importance, and my daughter and dog had been playing with them as if they were yo-yos. Dangerous people were hunting for them, and I wanted them gone. Out of the house, out of Nick’s possession.

“So, you’re taking them to the police?” Tony bit his lip. “Where, to homicide? Right now? Wait. I’ll go with you—”

“No, Tony. You stay here. It’s better to keep it official.” Nick started to leave, then stopped. “Unless you have something to add to your account—”

“No, no. But I’ve been beat up over those things and someone was killed. And I don’t think you should go alone. For security.”

“Better if you stay here with Zoe. It’s about time for Anna to take off.”

“Sam’s here. He can manage.”

“Stay. I won’t be long.”

Tony was shaking and breaking into a sweat. “Trust me, Nick. You shouldn’t go alone. If those guys catch up with you—”

“Nick, he’s right. We’ll be fine here. Take Tony along.”

Nick sighed, resigned. “Fine. Let’s go.” He gave me a quick goodbye kiss, and the two of them took off.

S
AM WAS SPREAD OUT
in the reclining chair, watching a rerun of M*A*S*H, finishing off the last of the leftover dip and chips. Molly was on his lap, Oliver whimpering at his feet, hoping for a handout.

“What’s up, Zoe?” Sam sucked on a beer. “Where’d Nick go?”

“Sam, have you lost any jump drives?” I knew his answer but needed to ask, just to be sure. “You know, for the computer?”

“Jump drives?” His face was blank. “What, those memory things? No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“Just making sure.”

“I found some,” Molly explained. “Well, really, Oliver did.” Stretched out on Sam’s belly, Molly reached back and casually toyed with his ears as I explained the theory that Agent Harris had slipped the jump drives into Tony’s pocket.

“Okay.” Sam smiled, reached for a cigar. “That explains it.” He pulled the plastic wrapping off. “You know what I think? I think that poor girl mistook Tony for Eli.”

So I wasn’t the only one.

“Knowing Eli, he was probably involved in this. I’m thinking he was her intended contact and she confused him with Tony.”

I sat down on the sofa as, on television, Radar announced incoming wounded. What Sam said wasn’t a new idea. But I listened closely as he elaborated.

“I mean, come on, Zoe. What do you think Eli’s doing in town?

You think he’s really here because of your wedding?” Sam shook his head. “Don’t make me laugh. Eli couldn’t give a rat’s ass about his family. No offense, but he never did. He’s here for his own reasons. No doubt some underground, undercover espionage thing. Trust me, Eli’s involved in this. And I’m guessing the reason that poor broad just ‘happened’ to show up on this doorstep was that Eli gave her Nick’s address as his local base of operations. Maybe even as their drop point.”

Base of operations? Drop point? Sam rearranged Molly and shifted the recliner to an upright position.

“Point is”—Sam slipped the gold paper ring off his cigar—“that broad knew Eli would be coming to this address. She knew his brother lives here. And you know what else? Here’s the way I see it: She thought Tony was Eli. She thought she’d completed her mission. Slipping those things to Tony, she thought she’d made the drop to Eli. That’s my theory.” Sam twirled the cigar, wheezing and out of breath.

What he said confirmed my own thoughts. I’d mistaken Eli for Tony myself. And Eli’s connection to Nick might have brought both the agent and Eli here; his late-night visit might not, as he’d claimed, been merely to take pictures and meet Luke. Eli might have been here primarily to search for the jump drives. But the question remained: If Agent Harris thought she’d given the drives to Eli, why did she return to the house? Had she learned that she’d mistaken the brothers? Or was there some other reason, other data—or maybe a warning she needed to pass along? Or, oh God, maybe her body had been left here as a sign that the killers knew she’d been here and left the drives here—

“So? What do you think is on them?” Sam tousled Molly’s hair, causing giggles. “Drug stuff? Names of cartel leaders—or maybe of infiltrators? You know, government informants? Could be dates of drug shipments or lab locations. Or wait—maybe it’s not about drugs. Maybe it’s about terrorists. Homeland Security after all. Maybe it’s some plot they’ve put together, and who all’s involved, you know, the what do you call them—cell members?”

I bit my lip. The suggestions were unnerving. “We have no idea. It could be anything.”

“It could be weapons, too,” Sam went on. “Maybe bio-weapons, like that anthrax stuff. Or like on that TV show with what’s-his- name? A mini-nuke? Could be about a dirty bomb—”

“Sam, please.” He was scaring me. A dirty bomb? “There’s no point in trying to guess—”

“Yeah—that could be it.” Sam chewed his cigar. “A plot to explode a dirty bomb on U.S. soil—”

“Why would you say something like that?” He was alarming me. He had no reason to assume that the drives contained information like that. And the idea was too awful to think about.

“Stop it, Sam.” I was annoyed. “For all we know, the data’s completely nonviolent. It could be about crooked financial records or stealing from a pension fund. Or the vice president’s secret love affairs. Not everything is about terrorists or dirty bombs.”

Sam eyed me, eyes laughing. “You think? Well, you might be right.” He stuffed his cigar into his mouth, chewed on it. “But my money’s on terrorists. A plan to attack us, maybe a suitcase nuke.”

“For God’s sake, Sam.”

“I’m serious.” He twisted one of Molly’s curls. “See, in my mind, nobody’s going to off a federal agent for the sake of a sex life or a pension plan.”

Oh dear. I had no rebuttal.

“Well”—he leaned back, relaxing—“for us at least, it’s over. Nobody’s going to bother Tony or you or the house or my car anymore; the FBI has the data.”

Was he serious? The government may have the jump drives and whatever data was on them, but whoever killed the FBI agent was most likely not part of the government. And the people who hired that killer would mostly likely not know that the jump drives were in government hands; they would still be hunting for them. Tony would still be in danger.

“But what about Tony?” Apparently Sam hadn’t considered that. “Those guys have been calling and threatening him.”

“I’m sure Nick or the FBI will protect him.”

“But for how long? A couple of days?”

Sam lifted Molly off his lap and set her on her feet. “Molly, go ask Anna when dinner’s going to be ready. I’m famished.”

As she scampered out of the room, he leaned forward. “This is harsh, Zoe. But in the scope of things, even though we love him, Tony’s just one person. One person—no matter who—is not that important. Who knows what we’re dealing with here? What if I’m right? What if these guys aren’t working drugs or counterfeiting hundred-dollar bills or conducting your everyday kind of criminal activity? What if they are terrorists, working with something bad like a dirty bomb? Tell me. How important is any one of us, in the case of an atomic weapon?”

And there they were again, those words:
dirty bomb, atomic weapon.
What was with Sam? Why was he persisting, almost insisting on that particular possibility? Did he know something? Or was he simply trying to upset me?

“Sam, you keep talking about dirty bombs. Out of the entire universe of information that could be on the drives. Why not anthrax or chemical poisoning or whatever? Why dirty bombs?”

He looked at me. “I don’t know. It’s common knowledge that there’s enriched uranium to be had out there. There’s been talk of dirty bombs since 9/11. I didn’t say anything for sure. I just said it could be that. But it could be something entirely—”