Dani heard Wu’s ceramic coffee mug thud down onto the table but kept her eyes on the screen. What was Sledge up to?
“I have long been at odds with the scourge that is the opioid epidemic in this country and those that feed it,” Sledge said. “A steady stream of opiates is manufactured in South America and shipped up here, where it’s sold to an increasingly addicted public. Colombia, in particular, is known for growing the products as well as the violence involved in carving out territories and distribution hubs. Over the years, my efforts in supporting law enforcement, levying taxes, and enhancing penalties has had a tremendous impact on drug lords, who have previously enjoyed a great deal of power. Their supply lines are interrupted, and their money is running low. Clearly, they wanted to send a message. They wanted to threaten me. And Nate Costner, my right-hand man, paid the price. He was murdered with a poison that could only have come from one place in the world.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Colombia, South America.”
As soon as he finished speaking, several reporters began a barrage of questions. Sledge pointed at a well-known national correspondent standing near the front, and the din subsided.
“What kind of poison was it?” the correspondent asked. “And how do you know it could only come from one place?”
“The poison is made by the golden dart frog, and it has to be living in its natural habitat to produce the toxin.”
“The chemical components can’t be reproduced in a lab?” the correspondent followed up.
“Lab results show it’s all natural, and it’s definitely from that species of frog. There aren’t any other—”
The end of Sledge’s sentence was drowned out by Flint, whose obscenities rivaled anything she’d heard in the barracks.
“Have you received any threats?” another reporter asked. “Has anyone claimed responsibility?”
Sledge straightened. “A man in my position—a man who takes on powerful criminals—is always a target. It’s part of the job. I’m willing to stand up for our great nation, but I never intended for anyone else to pay the price for my actions. That’s why this is doubly tragic, and that’s why I feel responsible.”
“What’s going to happen now?” another reporter chimed in. “Who’s investigating?”
“This is clearly a case for the Joint Terrorism Task Force right here in the city,” Sledge said without hesitation. “The NYPD began the investigation as a homicide, but now that evidence is leading us to another country, federal partners will get involved. That includes the US Capitol Police, the FBI, Homeland, and even the CIA.” He spread his arms in an expansive gesture. “There’s no telling how far this reaches and where it will go, but rest assured that I will follow the case every step of the way to ensure Nate Costner’s death is thoroughly investigated and that those responsible are brought to justice, no matter where they are.”
“He’s worming his way in,” Wu muttered. “He’ll demand constant briefings.”
A logical strategy. Sledge had given himself a plausible reason to stay abreast of the investigation. And to cover his tracks before anyone got too close.
Sledge lifted both hands, putting a stop to the incoming questions. “I can’t say any more at this time. As you can imagine, the case is sensitive and ongoing. Further information about the progress of the investigation will be released through the JTTF.”
Johnson stopped the feed after Sledge climbed back up the steps and disappeared inside the ornate office building.
“He screwed us in every way possible,” Wu said. “Someone obviously leaked the information about the golden dart frog to him, which doesn’t surprise me. He didn’t get where he is without having a ton of contacts in all kinds of strategic positions.” He gave his head a disgusted shake. “Then he essentially forces us to devote resources to the overseas angle by making a public announcement about the source of the toxin.” He scowled. “If that’s not enough, he uses the opportunity to paint himself as some sort of patriotic hero out to save our children from the opioid epidemic.”
“And don’t forget that he’s also put everyone on notice that he fully intends to insert himself into our investigation,” Flint said.
“He planned that whole show perfectly,” Dani said. “We’re in a serious bind.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Wu said, getting to his feet. “It’s going to take buy-in from Washington.”
“What’s the plan?” Dani asked him.
“I’ll explain if I get approval,” he said, crossing the room toward the exit. “If this works, the senator will never see us coming.” He opened the operations center door. “If it doesn’t, I’ll be transferred to an admin assignment somewhere in the bowels of the Hoover building, never to be heard from again.”
CHAPTER 10
At an undisclosed location far away, a click of the television’s remote ended the live feed of the senator’s news conference, but the anger left in its wake did not ebb. The temptation to punch a fist through the drywall or snatch the whiskey decanter from the credenza and hurl it at the screen was nearly overwhelming. Giving in, however, would serve no purpose other than to make another mess to clean up.
Nothing had gone as planned. That fool of a chief of staff had not followed instructions. He must have confronted his boss with the evidence—or he’d gotten caught sniffing around, and now Sledge had silenced him.
An exotic poison that could only be sourced in Colombia had been a masterstroke of misdirection on the senator’s part. Sledge had claimed he’d been the real target, providing a motive and pointing the FBI away from Nathan Costner’s secrets to another continent to hunt for suspects.
Now the Feds would chase their tails as they always did, getting nothing done while the real criminals got away with murder. Again.
A sickening feeling of déjà vu followed. Sledge was about to slip the net. If he did, all the others involved might do so as well. What had Costner done with the mountains of damning evidence? Had he confided in a reporter as instructed? Unlikely, or he wouldn’t be dead.
How would the truth ever come out now? Was it time to go directly to the media? No. Journalists insisted on sources. And corroboration. Just like the FBI. There was no way to come out from the shadows to point a finger at Sledge or the others who had wrought so much damage, ruined so many lives, and ended more than one.
Fortunately, a slight adjustment to the timeline would ensure none of them would escape justice.
Escape.
The word had taken on a special meaning over the years. Starting from a place of darkness, it became a hobby that had morphed into an obsession. Puzzles, riddles, and clues provided mental challenges in virtual escape rooms. What if the room wasn’t virtual?
The senator thought he was above the law, but he had no idea that an unknown nemesis was about to hold him accountable for his actions.
Nemesis. The word brought thoughts of vengeance—and a smile. Senator Sledge would go down never knowing who his real nemesis was. Poetic justice for a man who destroyed others without getting blood on his own manicured hands.
The new identity was perfect. Nemesis would be the name to use during the next phase of the plan. Unfortunately, Costner’s death meant Sledge’s retribution would now come after everyone else’s, but that didn’t matter, because he would be helpless to stop it.
Nemesis would make sure everyone involved would reap exactly what they’d sown.
CHAPTER 11
Wu sat in an overstuffed visitor’s chair across from his immediate supervisor, Assistant Director in Charge Scott Hargrave, who ran the FBI’s New York field office. Most field offices were headed by special agents in charge like Wu, but the NYFO was one of only three overseen by an ADIC. Consisting of more than two thousand special agents, it was the Bureau’s largest in terms of personnel and handled a wide variety of sensitive cases, demanding a higher level of accountability.
After Wu had outlined his plan to deal with Senator Sledge, the assistant director had wasted no time passing the buck. Hargrave’s unique position gave him the juice to arrange for an unscheduled video briefing with FBI Director Thomas Franklin, which was how Wu found himself repeating his proposal to Franklin.
The virtual briefing had been every bit the root canal he’d anticipated. Franklin had a reputation as a brusque, no-nonsense leader who did not suffer fools and expected either immediate answers or explanations as to why they were not forthcoming. After Senator Sledge’s grandstanding on live television, Wu expected Franklin to be especially sharp with his questions.
The director did not disappoint.
After Wu had responded to each issue, the director gave what appeared to be reluctant approval and disconnected the secure link.