Butler stared through the windshield, thinking. “They’re waiting for us, aren’t they?”
The deputy inspector didn’t hesitate. “With the promise of a whole lot more of them if we don’t provide full cooperation.”
Butler spoke clearly and concisely, so there was no chance of misunderstanding. “Sir, the subway gas attack was not random, and it wasn’t some nutjob. It was a hit on the professor, designed to look like a terrorist incident.”
There was a long moment of silence. Butler knew it sounded far-fetched. Far-fetched as hell. Which was why he continued. “The people waiting to arrest me are either involved or covering up for those who were, but I cannot prove it unless I’m allowed to play the evidence for you.”
Through the phone, Butler could hear Nataro tell Daniels, “It’s your call.”
She addressed Butler. “Park away from the station. Enter through the west emergency stairwell.”
“What about the alarm?” Butler asked.
“I’ll make sure it’s disconnected. Go to Interrogation Five. Call me when you’re there.”
She hung up the phone and turned to her boss. “Before we give them up, I’d like to hear whatever it is McHenry has to play for us.”
“You and me both.” Nataro removed something from his pocket and slid a device across the lieutenant’s desk. It was a handheld recorder. “Just be careful.”
CHAPTER 46
American Heritage Foundation, Alexandria, Virginia, May 27, 2:59 p.m.
Bob Stenson looked up from his desk inside the American Heritage Foundation as he heard three sets of footsteps approaching rapidly from down the hallway. They weren’t exactly running, but they weren’t exactly walking, either. “Easy there, people.”
Daryl Trotter, Jason Greers, and Caitlin McCloskey slowed their gaits as they reached their superior’s door. Trotter spoke first. “A federal warrant’s been issued for Skylar Drummond and Edward Parks for the theft of classified materials.”
Stenson slowly sat up in his chair. “Calm down, Daryl. I can barely understand you when you talk so fast.” He glanced at Jason as if to say, From now on, you do the talking.
Daryl Trotter handed his boss copies of the two federal warrants.
Stenson skimmed the documents, looking puzzled. “Why the hell would Barnes go and make his housekeeping public?”
“I believe the answer lies with an additional warrant, which was issued for a New York Police detective named Butler McHenry.” Daryl handed him the third warrant.
Stenson didn’t read more than the detective’s name. “Who is he, and what does he have to do with anything?”
“He’s wanted for harboring Drummond and Parks.”
Stenson paused to digest the information. “Why would a New York City detective harbor two federal fugitives?”
“Because he’s one of the detectives assigned to the subway gas attack that killed Dr. Drummond’s boyfriend, the professor.”
Stenson scratched his chin, letting this sink in. It took him a moment to catch up to what the former chess Grandmaster had put together.
Jason chimed in. “People go to the police because they want help.”
Caitlin was not about to be left out of the conversation. “Or because they have information they think would help in an investigation.”
Even Stenson was opening his eyes a little wider now. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. “For the detective to risk his own career, he must have heard something rather extraordinary.”
Jason added, “Just like Edward’s doctor.”
Daryl connected the dots. “I believe whatever they heard is something that links either Dr. Fenton or Michael Barnes to the incident in the subway.”
Stenson smiled ever so slightly. “Or both.” He couldn’t help but think of how efficient it would be if both parties were involved. He turned to his young protégé, Jason. “Well, I’ll be damned, Mr. Greers. It looks like you were right. There is a connection.”
Jason grinned slyly, careful not to show too much emotion. Mr. Stenson wouldn’t appreciate that. Neither would his peers. “Thank you, sir.”
“And, more importantly, it looks like the echo box is a reality.”
“It looks that way, sir.” Jason said it with all humility. He knew to let his earlier discovery that day speak for itself.
Stenson looked around to the four corners of his office. “My God, can you imagine the secrets this room could give up?” His expression of wonder and amazement turned quickly to one of foreboding and concern. “We must acquire the device at all costs.”
His three lieutenants turned to each other, wheels spinning. The expression at all costs was used rarely within this building, especially by Bob Stenson. With all the resources at their disposal, the statement was significant. Caitlin asked, “How many assets do we have in the immediate New York area?”
Jason answered with commanding certainty. “Think bigger. We should pull in everyone from the entire Eastern Seaboard.”
Daryl read a text message on one of the several handheld devices he carried with him at all times. “NYPD is reporting McHenry is en route with the device to the Sixth Precinct, along with the other two fugitives.”
Caitlin could see what was coming. “Barnes’s security personnel will be waiting for them, where they intend to take possession of Edward, the doctor, and the device.”
Stenson still managed to remain perfectly calm as he picked up the phone. “That’s not going to happen.”
CHAPTER 47
Crooked Stick Golf Club, Carmel, Indiana, May 27, 3:07 p.m.
Senator Davis was playing his best round of the year. He was on the eleventh hole at Crooked Stick, his favorite course. His last couple of rounds had been truly dreadful, but his ball was currently smack-dab in the middle of the fairway on the eleventh hole. It was a 457-yard par four, and the senator had just hit one hell of a drive. He was not known as much of a big hitter, but he had most definitely gotten all of this one. The ball carried a good 220 yards and didn’t stop rolling for another 30, in part because of the downward slope of the fairway. His playing partners were certain he’d been taking private lessons, and demanded to know from whom. Davis swore he hadn’t had time for lessons. He was just on his game today.
The pin was 175 yards away. His caddie suggested a five iron, but the senator was feeling strong. He was going with a six. A nice, firm six. He’d taken several practice swings when he felt a vibration in his pants pocket. It was his new phone. The one he had just received and was instructed to keep on his person at all times. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He turned away from the rest of his foursome as he flipped open the device. “Good afternoon.”
“Senator, good afternoon. Bob Stenson calling. I’m sorry to interrupt your round. How’s Crooked Stick treating you?”
Davis couldn’t believe it. How the hell does he know I’m in the middle of a round at Crooked Stick? The senator looked around, wondering who the hell was spying on him. He saw no one but the other three golfers he was playing with and their caddies. He answered, uncomfortably, “Not too shabbily.”
It didn’t occur to the senator to look straight up, not that it would have done any good. Stenson’s vantage point was 423 miles above the earth. The same one Caitlin McCloskey had been using to follow the National League East fans. The GeoEye-1 Reconnaissance Satellite was the world’s most advanced commercial imaging satellite. Its publicly available images were impressive, but it was the classified abilities of this satellite that were simply astonishing. Stenson, of course, was watching these.