The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) (7 page)

Walking to the vehicle waiting for him, he braced himself for his next meeting with Gillespie.  Even after he had explained that they were doing as Gillespie had asked, the man had not sounded happy, instead insisting that Barrett fly up on a Saturday to ‘discuss’ things.  Barrett suspected that Gillespie had expected them to go in, guns blazing, and have all of the information in a matter of hours instead of days.  Though, if he had to be honest with himself, Barrett had really expected to have more by now as well. 

Swallowing his irritation, he climbed into the car, watching as the small casino town slid quickly into the distance.  As the car sped toward the desert shanty the locals had the audacity to call an ‘airport’ he thought,
well at least I get to see the girls
.

Chapter Seven

"Why do we
still
have nothing?  It has been nearly two
weeks
!  You assured me that once we caught
anyone
in our trap, getting information was
not
going to be a problem.  A little time, I understand, but not this."  Gillespie took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  He looked over at Barrett, who stood behind one of the chairs as if to keep it between them. 

Coward.
 

The thought came unbidden and it was only years of practice that kept his lip from curling in disgust.

"Nine days now."

"What?"

Barrett’s voice was tentative as he restated, "Nine days, sir.  And, if we’re dealing with the kind of people we think we are then we expect it to be a challenge. They are serious players.  They would know how to cover their tracks."

"But still fall into the trap?"

Barrett cleared his throat.  His face told Gillespie that Barrett was wondering that as well.  Still, he replied with, "It was a solid trap.  One that would take a hacker of some skill to get into.  We just need a little more time."

"How much longer?  The campaigns for elections are gearing up soon and I can only do so much without delivering on the promise I made.  You would think that just the facts of their
backgrounds
would be enough to mention!"

"I agree with you, sir.  But, as you know, they not only covered their electronic tracks but they have also been holding up to questioning much better than we expected, especially the three civilians.  As for them being more cooperative in answering us…Well, let’s just say that we’ve decided to do as you suggested."

"So the doctor is on the way?" 

Barrett nodded and Gillespie tried to recall everything he had read and heard about the doctor.  Questioning was necessary when fighting any war and sometimes that questioning might not be within the bounds of what is considered proper or even lawful.  Something he knew from experience.  But, he was unfamiliar with the techniques he had read about in the doctor's dossier.  Not that it mattered.  Based on the stories that some of his former army buddies had told, the doctor was the person who would get answers when no one else could. His brothers in arms were some of the first people he had reached out to when Barrett and the investigative team first started hitting road blocks and he had - and did - trust them with his life. 

As if reading his mind Barrett said, "I’m sure the doctor will help.  Between that and the more intensive computer forensics analysis we’ve begun, we'll deliver."

Gillespie gave a sharp nod.  "Good.  Now, just get it soon."

He watched as Barrett headed out of the room, and then went to pour himself another drink.  The lack of information at this stage in the process was
not
good and he was beginning to have his doubts.  Doubts he could not afford.

Never one to leave potential situations that could affect him or his career in another person’s hands, Gillespie picked up the phone to make some calls.  Over the years he had built up hundreds of favors.  Some he had called in to help push his agenda through, and while he would keep most of the remaining favors for his actual campaign, it looked like it was time to burn a few more to find out what the devil was going on.  If Barrett or his partners thought Gillespie was going to just leave the success of his plan in their hands, they were going to be in for a surprise. 

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Hands tucked into his pockets, Barrett frowned as he headed to his car. Both Gillespie and Barrett’s backers were clamoring for information he didn't have yet.  And, he'd already been bitten once for rushing in and paid the price; his life had been ripped apart for it.  So, he wasn't about to hurry again. 

Even though the setbacks had raised some doubts, he
knew
they had something this time.  You didn't have an Iraqi national, a card carrying NRA gun advocate/conspiracy theorist, an ex-military PSYOPs who was also a computer hardware specialist, and a college kid studying network security all hit the same trap around the same time.  Not unless there was some sort of collaboration going on.  If he had to bet, this was bigger than
everyone
realized and he wanted part of the credit.  And he'd be
damned
if they thought he would hurry the investigations because of some stupid politician and his damn ambitions.  They would just have to wait.

His phone rang, knocking him out of his internal tirade.  "Barrett."

"Did you speak with him," asked the accented voice. 

Barrett still didn't have a name for the man.  He was simply 'sir'. 

"Yes, sir. I just spoke with him."

"And has he calmed down now that we’ve agreed to bring in the doctor?"

"Not exactly."  Barrett's jaw tightened.  "He wants to go to the press soon.  I explained we need more information."

"And how is actually
getting
that information coming along?"

Barrett clenched his teeth tighter.  The check-ins were constant.  Why had they hired him if they didn't trust him? "We're working on it."

"How much longer?"  The voice sounded impatient. 

"I think we'll have something soon.  A couple of days more, a week tops.  Probably sooner.  The doctor has an impressive track record."

"For your sake, let us hope so." 

The line went dead and Barrett contemplated throwing the phone away. 

His caller was the one that had coordinated laying the trap in the first place.  Why weren't they
helping
more?

His irritation mounting, he decided he didn't know and didn't
want
to know.  Whatever the reason, it didn't matter.  He was getting paid, and paid well, and he was going to get the chance to earn his reputation back. 

Still agitated, he decided his next meeting could wait.  It was Saturday night and time for some well-deserved relaxation.  He hit the 1 on the speed dial as he continued to his car.

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How goes it?

Well.  Better than well.

How much longer?

A few months or less.  There will be no doubt and Gillespie will no longer be an issue.   Your candidate will step in soon with no competition.  Although-

What?

I still have concerns about how badly he wants this.  I believe I've stressed this before.

That's our concern not yours.  You just make sure it happens.  Now what about your agent?

Leave him to us.

Good.  The others are ready to move forward.  And the family will prevail as a leader in this.

Of course.  My family is ready to help as always.

Until next time.

SG signed off and Yuri sat back. 

Americans.  They were so full of themselves.
Which was making what he planned so much easier than he had thought it would be.  This family was too arrogant to realize that there was no way
Yuri’s
family would let them continue to prevail as leaders of the great plan.  Gillespie’s family
would
get their candidate in place, simply because it served the families to have someone so pliable in a top US position.  But they would lose everything else.  And it wouldn't be much longer.  His family would make their move soon.

His mind returned to the doctor.  That had been a bit of an unexpected turn. But Yuri was an excellent chess player and always had contingency plans.  Fortunately, for other reasons, he already had someone watching the doctor and had for some time now.  He had explained this to the members of the little group they had formed for this operation and told them that they needn’t worry about this small hitch.  He would handle it.  Just like he and his family had been handling these, and issues like them, for centuries. 

Chapter Eight

Ken Moore rubbed his tired eyes.  He had finally gotten his distraught wife to lie down and at least try to rest.  Their initial hopes of going public had only gotten them the barrage of prank calls and two ransom claims they had expected.  Still, the lack of leads had worsened Karen's condition.  She had already been to the hospital twice because of the toll the stress was taking.  Knowing what Tommy knew about his mom, Ken didn't believe for a minute that he had just up and left.  Especially not after they had gone public.

No.  Someone had his son, or his son was already dead.

Rage surged through Ken at the thought.  He wanted to
kill
somebody! 

The knock at the door startled him.  Looking at the clock he noticed it was nearly eleven, and the last thing he was expecting was visitors.  He walked to the door, peering through the peep hole.

For a second his heart jumped with relief as he took in the tall, shadowed, lanky body of what could only be his son.  Throwing open the door, he took a step forward to pull his son to him, only to stop as the blond-haired kid standing on the porch took a startled step back.

The kids was about Tommy's height and clearly nervous.  "Uh, Mr. Moore?"

Ken nodded but said nothing as he tried to get his feelings under control.  The kid took a deep breath, glancing behind him and then back at Ken before saying hurriedly, "I'm sorry for bothering you so late, my name is Ben.  I've been seeing your missing ads and looked your address up online.  I'm a friend of Tommy's." 

Again he looked behind him, reminding Ken of a rabbit who thinks something's about to jump out of the dark and eat him.  Turning back to Ken, Ben licked his lips nervously and asked, "Can I please come in?" 

Ken gazed into the night but sensed, nor saw, anything.  Stepping aside he motioned Ben in and then closed the door.

Ben walked into the living room and Ken noted that he deliberately stepped behind a wall to hide himself from the windows. 

"What is going on, Ben?  Do you know something about Tommy?"  He felt his heart stutter at the possibility, but quickly quashed the small bit of hope.

The kid dipped his head, shoulders hunched.  "Yes, sir.  I mean.  I don't know, but I thought it might be something."  Ben looked at his feet and didn't seem inclined to continue.

Ken clenched his teeth, shoving his hands in his jean pockets to keep from reaching out and shaking him.  Acting as if he were dealing with a skittish colt, he forced himself to speak in a soothing tone.  "How do you know Tommy?"

Ben looked up as if startled.  "Uh.  We, uh, play on the same recreational soccer team at school.  A bunch of us met that way.  He's really good!"

Ken forced a smile.  "Ya?  Good to hear.  How about we sit?"

Ben looked over at the windows and then back at Ken.  Unsure as to what was going on, or why he needed to, Ken walked over and began closing all of the blinds.  When he finished he turned to Ben, noting the kid had visibly relaxed.  Trying to contain the questions flooding through his mind, he went and grabbed two water bottles, handed one to the Ben and motioned him to take a seat in one of the large, overstuffed chairs. 

Ben folded himself awkwardly into one, opening the water and taking several swallows.  Ken could see the boy's shoulders relax and kept a clamp on his patience.  After a few more moments, Ben placed the cap back on his water bottle, licked his lips and began.  "About three days before Tommy disappeared he was telling me about his research paper."  Ben looked directly at Ken for the first time.  "He was researching hackers and computer security?" 

Ken nodded encouragingly and Ben ducked his head and continued.  "Well anyway, he said that something weird happened to him when he was following up on some information sent to him by some hacker he sort of knew.  He said that it led him to some website and this message just popped up, saying something about his IP address being logged and that the FBI would be in contact.

We were like joking with him and like saying 'sure, whatever dude'.  And he was like, 'no seriously I'll show you later after the game.  It was freaky, I'm telling you'.  Those were his words, you know?" He stopped again and looked back up.

"Ben,
please.
  Get to the point."

"Yes, sir.  Sorry. Anyway, we went to a friend's house that night and he showed us this website.  Well first he typed something, I’m not sure what he typed because there were several lines of it, but when he finished, up popped a website and sure enough it did exactly what he said.  We were all a little spooked so we shut the computer down real quick and went to playing vids."

"So what are you trying to say, Ben?  You think that somehow Tommy's gotten in trouble with the FBI?" 

His doubt must have shown on his face because Ben piped in, "Ya.  I know it sounds crazy right?  Like all conspiracy theorist right?  Like our friend's dad.  The guy whose computer we were using that night?  Total conspiracy theorist and gun advocate.  He's got a closet full of gu-"

"
Ben
."

"Sorry.  Anyway, it just sort of might explain things."

"What things?

"Well Tommy's sudden disappearance just a few days after this happened."

"If you thought so, why didn't you go to the police about this weeks ago?  And why are you coming to me now?"

Immediately the boy's shoulders came back up.  He glanced around quickly.  Finally he said in a near whisper, "I wanted to.  But I was afraid."

"Afraid?  Why?"

"Because the same night Tommy disappeared my friend's dad disappeared too."

Ben's words seemed to echo surreally and Ken tried to absorb them but couldn't.  The thought that his son might somehow be involved in something that would bring the FBI down on him just didn't seem possible.  Nor could Ken believe that it would have happened like that, with the FBI just swooping in and snatching someone in the middle of the night.  The FBI just didn't work that way.  The kid had to be imagining things.

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's his name, your friend's dad?"

"Wayne Bevels, sir."

"Have you told anyone else?"

"No.  Matt would kill me if he knew I were here."

"Is Matt the kid whose dad's computer you used that night?"

Ben nodded.

"Do you know what this site was?"

"No sir."

"It might still be on Mr. Bevel’s computer."

"I don't know.  You see, it disappeared the same night he did."

Just like Tommy’s,
Ken thought.

Out loud he said, "Someone needs to go to the police about this."

"Not me.  I don't know what's going on, but I don't want to go to the police and neither does Matt."

Ken tried to squash the surge of irritation that rolled through him.   

Ben shifted self-consciously in his chair, obviously picking up on Ken's irritation, and Ken remembered that Ben was just a kid.  He took in Ben's hunched shoulders and the fact that his eyes kept darting to the door but he didn't leave.  In fact, he
had
worked up the courage to come here in the first place. 

"Why not?"

The boy’s words came out in a tense whisper.  "Because I don’t want to disappear too." 

Sighing, Ken said, "Okay.  Do you remember anything about the website or how Tommy got to it?  Even a few words, something?"

"No.  It all looked like garbage."

"How about Matt?  Do you think he remembers anything?"

"I doubt it.  Even if he did, I’m not sure he’d talk."

"How about this then.  You talk to your friend, tell him that we're looking for anything that might help us find Tommy and, maybe, if there is a connection, his dad.  Maybe the two of you can remember something if you try together.  I’ll give you my number and my email.  Tell him if he, or you, can remember anything, please just call or email me.  Anything.  Okay?"

Ben nodded his head.  "Sure.  I'll see what I can do.  You're not going to tell the police about me though, are you?"

"Not if I don't have to, Ben.  But I am going to tell them about Matt's dad.  They need to know about this possible connection.  You understand that right?"

"Yes, sir.  I do."

Ken walked over to grab a pen and pad off the kitchen counter and quickly wrote down all of his information.  Tearing off the sheet, he handed it to Ben and said, "You give it to Matt and tell him what I said.  And you can contact me any time as well.  No matter how late or early, if you have
anything
else you think might help us with Tommy, you call okay?" 

Ben nodded and Ken pushed the pad and pen toward him.  Softly he said, "I'd appreciate it if you gave me your number as well.  Can you do that?"

Ben looked at the pad and pen, the door, and back at Ken.  "I don't know, Mr. Moore.  I'd really rather not."

His jaw tightening, Ken gave a curt nod.  "I understand.  You have my information."

"Yes, Mr. Moore.  And I'm sorry I didn't come forward sooner.  I'll see what I can do, getting you that information."

Ken nodded and turned to walk toward the front door, Ben hurriedly following.  "Mr. Moore.  I don't blame you if you don't believe me.  It's kind of hard for me to believe.  But it's better than thinking something else worse happened.  I mean…"  He trailed off, sticking his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders.

Ken gave him a tight smile and held out his hand.  "Thank you, Ben. I understand how much it took for you to come here tonight and I really appreciate it."

Ben looked at Ken's outstretched hand a second before reaching out to shake it.  Ken opened the door and watched as the skittish kid disappeared into the night.  He shook his head, Ben's words still ringing in his ears. '
It's better than thinking something else worse happened.'
 

The boy was right.

Before closing the door, Ken darted a quick glance down the street.  Not seeing anything, he shrugged off his sudden paranoia, locked the door and headed up the stairs.

"What did that kid mean, Ken?"

He looked up with a start to find his pale wife standing at the top of the stairs, clutching the railing with one hand and holding her robe closed with the other.  Ken hurried to the top, suddenly afraid his wife would collapse.  "Karen, you shouldn't be out of bed."

"Is our son okay?  Does that kid know where Tommy is?"

"Karen, please. Let's get you back to bed."

"I'm
fine
.  Now answer me.  Please."  She said the last in a desperate whisper.  Ken looked into his wife's eyes and was grateful to see she was staring back without the drug-induced stupor she had been in for the past several days.  She almost looked like her old self.

He moved to steer her toward the bed only to have his hand slapped away.  Straightening her thin shoulders Karen said, "Damn it, Ken.  I am
not
a child!  Now tell me what the hell is going on with our son!" 

Despite the situation, Ken smiled briefly.  He could see the strong willed Karen he'd first fallen in love with. 
His
Karen.  For what seemed like the first time in an eternity, he began to feel the first stirring of hope.

Finally, he agreed to tell her everything if she would agree to at least sit down while they talked.  Reluctantly she turned to follow him, nearly collapsing after just a few steps.  Ken caught his wife and walked her to the edge of the bed, lowering her gently.  He held on to her until she shook his arm off impatiently.

A brief smile turned his lips up as he sat beside her.  He raised her hand to his mouth, kissed it, and began to tell her everything Ben had said.  When he finished, they talked for a few hours more, discussing what the information could mean and what they could do.  There was no doubt that they would be telling the police about Matt’s dad, a little doubt about whether to mention Ben, but they decided to hold off unless the situation made it impossible.  And, they would also call the one person who would know if all this talk about possible FBI involvement held any credence or was just the result of a kid's overactive imagination. 

First thing in the morning, Ken called his brother, Alex.