The Bricklayer (8 page)

Kate said, “I’m not sure, maybe two days. Would that have been enough time to get all this together?”

“I suppose if you know the right people. Most agents working criminal cases do.”

“If this is the blue paper used in the notes, the lab should be able to match it.” Still Vail showed no reaction. “Why do you think he chose Miami?”

“He’s got two million dollars in hundred-dollars bills and knows the serial numbers have been recorded. He needs to get it dry-cleaned. With Miami’s drug history, it’s not exactly a stranger to that type of transaction. Plus, it’s the gateway to the Caribbean. Cayman Islands, Panama, the Bahamas, Netherlands Antilles, and a half-dozen other governments specializing in laundering money and helping Americans evade taxes. Between the secrecy of the banking laws and the individual governments’ interests in keeping the United States out of their business, I’d say it’s a high-probability destination.”

“This looks like the break we’ve been looking for. You don’t seem very fired up about this.”

“We’ve found a few pieces of paper, nothing more.”

“Excuse me for getting excited, but if you had been on this from the beginning, this would look like the Second Coming of Christ,” she said. “Are we done here? I’ve got to get the Miami office on this.”

“Can you pack everything up while I take one last look around?” Vail asked. “I want to check all the nooks and crannies.”

Kate reached over on the bed and pulled the lone pillow out of its case and then started to fill it carefully with the cache of evidence. “Look who’s been promoted to gun bearer.”

He smiled. “The death of chauvinism has been greatly exaggerated.”

“And they say all the really great pickup lines have been used.”

“I assume you’ll get this hand-carried back to the lab.”

“I will. What’ll you be doing?”

“I’ll try to get the United States attorney’s office to authorize a pen register on this phone in case Bertok starts calling for messages again.”

Kate hadn’t considered using the device. It would list all the activity on Bertok’s line including incoming calls that might be traced back to him. “And if they won’t authorize it?” she asked.

“Then I’ll have to.”

“FIND ANY
Bureau property
?” Tye Delson asked.

“You know,” Vail said, “this would be a lot easier if we didn’t have to read between each other’s lines.”

“So you want to know if I’m a stand-up gal.”

“I guess that’s what I’m asking.”

“Do you know why lawyers follow the rules, Steve? It’s not that they believe in them—in fact their biggest weakness
is probably that they feel rules don’t exactly apply to them. No, they follow the rules simply because they’ve seen too many people get caught who didn’t. I have this fairly well-researched idea that at some point in their life, every sociopath dreams of going to law school. Unfortunately, too many of them get through.”

“Are you calling yourself a sociopath?”

“We’re all sociopaths. The only variable is whether we control it or it controls us. What I’m saying is that I don’t need to follow all the rules all the time. And I can keep a secret if it’s for the greater good, but at the same time I don’t want to be given up by someone who pledged allegiance and then got faint at the sight of his own blood.”

“Just because I’m hanging around with a deputy assistant director doesn’t mean I want to be one.”

“The little bit I’ve been around you, you’re not like any of the other agents I’ve worked with. You have an obvious disregard for protocol, almost like you don’t work for the government. How long have you been on the job?”

Vail looked at his watch. “Almost two days.”

“Meaning this isn’t your first time around.”

“I used to be an agent. Years ago.”

“And now they’ve rehired you?”

“More or less. Just for this case.”

“You must be quite a guy. What is it that makes you so valuable?”

“I don’t get faint at the sight of my own blood.”

She laughed. “Then it appears we have the makings of a grand conspiracy. What did you find at Bertok’s apartment?”

Vail told her about the hidden folder containing the identification documents in the name Ruben Aznar.

“That alias is a good choice for the Miami area. It’s vague enough where it could be either Hispanic or some other unidentifiable origin because Bertok does not look Latin.”

“We found another potential lead. On his phone’s incoming calls. Just before they lost contact with him during the drop, he called his apartment from a cell phone. It looks like he was checking his messages.”

“Any idea for what?”

“Coupled with those Miami documents, we’re hoping travel arrangements or some contact to launder the money. But those aren’t necessarily high-percentage guesses.”

“Does that mean you think this entire thing is his doing?”

“No stone unturned, counselor.”

“It’s hard to believe that an agent could be behind all this.”

“We’re open to alternate theories,” Vail said.

“I know the evidence is piling up, but still.”

“Either way, we’ve got to find him. I was thinking about a pen register on his apartment phone. If he was checking for some critical message, maybe he’ll call again and we can track him that way. A long shot, but at this point everything is.”

“I understand that you’ve been out of the Bureau for a while, but pen registers take a mountain of paperwork, and probable cause. And it’s getting worse every time I turn around. I have a feeling that you’re a person who could find alternative means.”

“All right, we never talked about this.”

“Did you forget, Steve? I can keep my mouth shut.”

“Just trying to keep the list to a minimum.”

“What list?”

“The one entitled ‘Also Named in the Indictment.’”

WHEN VAIL GOT
back to the FBI office, he was directed to a room that had been set up for Kate while she was in Los Angeles. The door was closed and he could hear her on the phone. He knocked twice and walked in. “Yes, sir, he just came in. I’ll call you back.” She hung up. “That was the director. They’ve just received another demand letter….”

Vail could see the concern in her eyes. “And?”

“Three million dollars. He wants you to make the drop.”

K
ATE STOOD OFF TO THE SIDE, NOT WANTING TO BE NOTICED AS SHE
watched Vail. They were in the L.A. FBI’s major-case room. Tom Demick, the tech agent who had so deftly opened Bertok’s apartment door, was taping a microphone wire to Vail’s bare chest. He looked over at her briefly and rolled his eyes in silent prediction that the Pentad’s ingenuity during the first two drops had already rendered the predictable device a waste of time. She smiled back obligingly and continued to search his face and body language for any sign of fear. His hands hung loosely at his side as Demick clipped the radio’s body into the back of his waistband. Vail turned back toward her, and she could see his heart beating against the lean muscle of his chest. She timed it—about forty beats a minute. She thought about the moment he had been asked to make the drop, even though West had died and Bertok had disappeared; he had shown no surprise or apprehension, almost as if he had expected it.

Vail leaned closer to the tech agent. “Did you get the pen register on Bertok’s phone?” he asked quietly.

“It’s up and running. I’m checking it as often as I can. Other than the ex-wife and brother, you want to be notified of any calls, right?”

Abruptly the door opened. The SAC, Mark Hildebrand, walked in and stepped to the side to allow Assistant Director Don Kaulcrick to pass. Kate and Vail looked at each other. Neither of them had any idea he was coming.

The two men were followed by three other people, one a female agent. She had in her hand one of two straps that were connected to a large canvas bag. A male agent, who stood well over six feet tall and was powerfully built, held the other. They both had on suit coats which rode up over holstered handguns and spare magazine pouches. Evidently the three million dollars had arrived.

The other man was older, almost completely bald, and dressed in a pair of slacks and a golf shirt. There was an air of confidence about him. He was carrying a large brown leather carryall the size of a small suitcase. Demick introduced everyone as Vail pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. The older man in casual clothing was a technical agent from headquarters and was introduced only as “Bob.” He asked Vail, “You’re making the drop?”

Vail looked at the athletic-looking agent holding the bag and then at Kaulcrick. “Unless the assistant director knows something I don’t.”

“You’re making the drop, Steve. But as a matter of fact I do know a little something that might change the way we’re going to do this.” Kaulcrick pulled a folded document from
his coat pocket. “The lab has matched not only the paper from the pad you and Kate found hidden in Bertok’s bathroom to the last Pentad note, but its torn edge as well.”

“Then this is all Bertok,” Kate said.

“That seems like a fairly safe bet.”

Vail said, “So the money is just a way to catch him.”

“Can you think of a better way for us to get our hands on him?” Kaulcrick said.

“Does this mean we can go public if we catch Bertok?” Kate asked.

“The director, being a former federal judge, doesn’t want to take anything for granted. If we gave a big, splashy news release, the Pentad might kill someone else just to remain in character. If there is a Pentad beyond Bertok. Plus the demand note is very specific should anything go wrong. But let’s not worry about that until we get him into custody.” Kaulcrick handed Vail a sheet of paper. “This is a copy to keep with you.”

“So I am going to drop the full three million?” Vail asked.

“Again, the director doesn’t want to take any chances, so yes. Make the drop, and the agents covering you will take care of grabbing Bertok.”

Vail looked at the headquarters tech agent and pointed to his bag. “Is there something in there for me?”

“Because of what happened in the past, we want to be overly cautious. That transmitter you’ve got on has a GPS capability, but I’ve brought two other items for you to carry in case they try to render the primary transmitter inoperable. The first time a river was used to neutralize it. Who knows what it’ll be this time.” From his case, he took out what looked like a wallet. “This is also a GPS transmitter, very new, very micro. If you’re patted down, it looks and feels just like a wallet. It’ll tell us exactly where you are at all times. And it’s waterproof.” Vail took out his own wallet and handed it to Kate, and then put the transmitter in the same back pocket. “Also, we used canvas to fabricate the moneybag because of its thickness. There’s an overlapping seam at the bottom that’s hiding another GPS, which has the same microtechnology as the wallet. It’s even thinner because it doesn’t need the leather to disguise it. The hope is that because this bag weighs almost seventy pounds, the bad guys won’t be picking it up over their heads to check the bottom. Even if they do, it’s extremely difficult to detect.” He reached into the side pockets of the bag and took out three items: an
underwater flashlight, a knife with a regular blade and an equally long saw blade, and a low-light monocular.

“What’s with the knife?” Vail asked.

“If nothing else, it’s a backup weapon. The letter said no guns. We thought we’d include one with the saw blade because who knows what you’re going to run into. It was developed for clandestine military units.”

Vail snapped the flashlight on and off and opened both knife blades. He took his own lock-back knife out of his pocket and handed it to Kate. Opening the mason’s knife and seeing its honed sharpness, she said, “I’m surprised you thought you needed a gun.”

Vail was reading the demand note and didn’t appear to hear her. “Is that ‘sub’ as in submarine?” he asked.

Tom Demick pulled out a map and laid it on a desk as everyone gathered around. “We’ve reconned the area only by satellite and map. Didn’t want to go stumbling around there with GPSs. It’s in West Hollywood. As close as we can figure, it’s this clear area right here between Lucas Avenue, South Toluca Street, and Beverly Boulevard. There’s no water or submarines around there, but I’ll keeping working on it.”

Kate said, “Seven seventeen is the exact minute of sunset, so you will be working in the dark.”

“I’ll hope that’s not a metaphor.”

“This is the FBI—everything’s a metaphor.”

VAIL LAY HIDDEN
in the tall grass between two overgrown shrubs that were against a ten-foot-high chain-link fence. It sur
rounded a huge vacant lot. According to his wallet GPS, he was still about a hundred yards short of the exact West Hollywood coordinates given in the demand note. He had crawled as far forward as he could. Using the low-light monocular, he searched the area in front of him. When he radioed the information to the major-case room and the covering surveillance cars, he heard Kaulcrick’s voice. “What’s inside the fence?”

“Nothing I can see worth protecting. It looks like a giant vacant lot, maybe the size of one and a half football fields but shaped like a triangle.”

“Do you see anything inside?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you get in?”

“There’s barbed wire coiled all along the top as far as I can see. But the ground inside is not overgrown, so the kids around here probably have a way in and use it to play ball. I guess it’s time to let whoever’s waiting see me.” Vail tucked the monocular into the moneybag, which he hoisted onto his shoulder once he stood up. He started skirting the fence. About sixty yards from where he had parked the car, next to a small footpath that had been worn through the underbrush, he found a hole in the chain link that had been snipped away from the post. He reported what he had found on the radio. “Hold on, Vail, we’re trying to get a satellite picture of the area,” Demick said.

Technology, while providing remarkable advantages to law enforcement, had a crippling side. It could make investigators lazy, keeping them from remaining flexible. Vail was worried that the agents surveilling him were finding it much
easier to track him through the GPS monitors in the major-case room than trying to follow him through the dark, irregular terrain. And those were the kinds of vulnerabilities that the Pentad somehow understood and exploited. He pulled back the corner of the fence, pushed the bag in ahead, and squeezed through.

He took out the wallet GPS again to check his position. The destination coordinates had been locked in and an arrow on the screen pointed toward a thirty-foot rise in the ground still almost a hundred yards ahead. He picked up the bag and started toward it. The radio’s earpiece crackled with Tom Demick’s voice. “I think I’ve figured out where you’re going. I should have thought of it before when I heard Toluca Street. It’s the Toluca portal to the old Pacific Electric Railway. I pulled it up on the Internet. It stopped running in the fifties. It used trolley cars. The kind that had the poles that reached up to the overhead electric lines. You’re at the beginning of a mile-long tunnel that was built to circumvent traffic back then, but both ends were sealed off years ago. Located at your end is Substation 51. That’s got to be the ‘sub’ in the note.”

“Very nice, Tom. I’m on my way.”

One of the surveillance teams came up on the radio. “Command, this is One-three, we’re at the fence, and it doesn’t look like we can follow the package without being made. The terrain is too open.”

Vail answered, “I’m good here. The last thing we want is to get burned. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

“Copy,” One-three answered.

In the major-case room, Kate looked at Kaulcrick. “I don’t like this.”

“Uncertainty is exactly what Bertok wants. Quit worrying. Vail wanted to do this. We’ve got him surrounded. It has to be far enough away that we won’t be made. We’re in far better shape than that debacle in New Hampshire. And we’ve got three monitors up here, each one tracking the different GPSs. Nothing can go wrong.”

Vail’s voice interrupted. “I’m at the substation. It’s a small square building, every inch covered with graffiti.” Involuntarily, his hand went to where his gun should have been, but then he remembered he wasn’t armed. “Let’s go to radio silence until I see what’s inside.” He carefully stepped up onto the landing in front of the door and then moved against a wall as he listened. He couldn’t hear anything. He peeked inside.

Three glowsticks formed an arrow like he had read about in the naval-prison report. Next to it were two others holding down a sheet of paper. The room was otherwise empty. He went in and picked up the note. Underneath it was a walkie-talkie with the transmission key soldered into a permanent transmission position. The extortionists were now listening to him. He read the note:

After carefully folding the note and putting it in his pocket, Vail opened his shirt and peeled the microphone
from his chest, pulling the Bureau radio from his waistband. He dropped it loudly on the floor so the extortionist’s radio could hear it being discarded and then attached their radio to his belt. That answered the question why they didn’t want him to bring a cell phone—it could be used for silent text-messaging.

The arrow was glued to a couple of rocks. It pointed toward the sealed entrance of the railroad tunnel. But the rocks used seemed to have a secondary direction. Their difference in height also made the arrow rise, almost as if it was pointing to the top of the tunnel. Vail stepped out of the building and stood still for a moment, making sure the satellites could once again lock onto the two remaining GPSs. He starting walking slowly toward the entrance to the tunnel.

“Steve, what’s happening?” Kate said into the mike. “Steve?”

“Something must have happened to his radio,” said the agent watching the monitor for the GPS on his body transmitter. “Even though he’s moving away from the substation, the monitor shows the radio’s still in the building.”

The headquarters tech agent had been hovering between all three monitors and said, “They must have had him take it off and leave it there. It’s okay. That’s why we gave him two backups. They’re still working fine.”

“But we can’t communicate with him,” Kate said.

Kaulcrick spoke into the radio mike. “One-one, do your people have the area surrounded?”

“As best we can without getting too close.”

“Just make sure if he leaves that fenced-off area, he can’t get by you.”

“I don’t like this,” Kate said again. “At each turn, we’re losing more control.”

Vail had reached the mouth of the tunnel. The arched entrance was an almost perfect half circle about twenty feet high. It had been sealed up with cinder block and coated with a concrete plaster. Like the substation, it shimmered electrically with graffiti of all colors in the low light.

The glowstick arrow in the substation indicated that Vail was supposed to go to the top of the opening. Around the left side of the entrance was a small pathway up the steep grade. It ran between the huge concrete frame of the tunnel and the chain-link fence. He shifted the heavy bag more toward the middle of his back and maneuvered up the thirty-degree grade. At the top of the structure, he started walking, following the tunnel’s spine along its mile-long length, looking for the next instruction.

Seventy-five yards farther he found another glowstick, attached to a small metal door in the ground. It appeared to be a hatch for maintenance workers if access became necessary to work on the electrical lines that ran along the tunnel’s ceiling. A rusty padlock that had secured the hatch had been cut and lay next to it. The thick metal door was ajar. Judging by the piles of dirt and stone around it, the entrance had been covered over and somehow the extortionists had found it and dug it out.