Briefing concluded, Hargrave slipped off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was painful,” he said. “But at least he agreed to give your plan a try.”
The choice of words was not lost on Wu. This was his plan, not Hargrave’s. It made no difference that the idea for the first phase of the proposal had come from a subordinate. Once Wu embraced the concept, he owned it. If things went well, Hargrave would be sure to couch the after-action report in terms of his own leadership when he informed the director. If the situation devolved into a shipwreck, Wu would find himself bobbing at sea, clinging to a life preserver. All by his lonesome.
Such was the way of internal politics in the upper ranks of the Bureau.
“Locating Gustavo Toro is our top priority,” Wu said. “He’s the key. Once we find him, he tells us who hired him, and we follow the trail from there.” He paused for emphasis. “Wherever it leads.”
“Toro is proving to be hard to find,” Hargrave said. “Especially since we haven’t put out a BOLO or entered him into NCIC.”
Wu countered the criticism underlying the comment. “Even the director agreed the suspect would be more valuable to us if we didn’t burn him.”
Franklin had initially balked at the idea of hunting Toro down without the benefit of the law enforcement equivalent of a full-court press. After listening to Wu’s explanation that a dead suspect would offer far less than a cooperative asset, Franklin had reluctantly agreed. He did, however, limit Wu to twenty-four hours before announcing Toro’s name publicly and plastering his face on every available virtual and physical surface. If they captured Toro before that, the second phase of Wu’s proposal—which had necessitated the call to Washington—would kick in.
“I’m surprised the director agreed to the rest of your plan,” Hargrave said. “I’ve never known him to hold off on briefing the Senate Majority Leader, especially regarding an accusation involving a fellow senator.”
“The investigation will be compromised from the start without the strictest confidence,” Wu said. “Sledge is an Independent, so he has no party affiliation, but he’s close to the leadership in both houses of Congress. If word about what we’re doing leaks out, he’ll call in every favor he can to impede us. Franklin understands that, and he’s willing to take the blowback when the case is over.”
If Hargrave caught the subtle dig about his own lack of willingness to shoulder fallout, he didn’t let on.
“Everyone will know you conducted a phony investigation,” Hargrave said. “No one likes being tricked, especially not people in power—or the media. It’s going to get ugly.”
“The secondary investigation isn’t fake,” Wu said. “But it’s not our main focus.”
“No, that’s just a sitting US senator.” Hargrave waved a hand in sarcastic dismissal. “No big deal.”
“Senator Sledge is running a false-flag operation with this Colombian angle,” Wu said. “He’s forcing us to engage in our own deception in response.”
His plan had been to split the investigation, running simultaneous but completely separate probes, both reporting to him. Secrecy was key, and only a handful of people would know about the second concurrent investigation.
The first team would openly work the international leads. Fortunately, the JTTF had vast resources already in place to help in that regard. There were members from DHS, CIA, NSA, DEA, ICE, and military intelligence, among others. During his tenure in his current position, Wu had overseen many investigations around the globe. As long as US citizens were affected or threatened in some way, the task force’s considerable resources could be brought to bear. Wu knew most people had no idea what really went on within these walls, and they slept a hell of a lot better than he did for it.
He would personally answer any questions from the media or Senator Sledge with heavily redacted information from the international team’s progress. He could plausibly claim that much of their work was classified, and that updates would be few and far between. The senator had a security clearance and could demand more information, so reports would have to be carefully prepared for him.
Meanwhile, a second team would conduct a covert inquiry into Senator Sledge. The encrypted message Agent Vega had partially deciphered provided enough evidence to get started, and it appeared one man had already been killed for going down that path. Much would depend on what the rest of the message had to offer, but they could begin with a stealth examination of the contracts he associated himself with and his contacts.
US senators did not personally award government contracts, but the right word here or there could go a long way toward a successful bid. The term “Beltway bandit” had been used for decades to describe the practice. While the low bidder was supposed to prevail, the parameters of a contract could be written in such a way that only one vendor met the requirements.
Such was the way of politics inside the Beltway.
“Who will be at the helm of the international investigation?” Hargrave asked.
Wu had already made up his mind. “Wagner,” he said, certain Hargrave wouldn’t find any reason to object. Paul Wagner had been with the Department of Homeland Security since its inception. Well respected and capable, he was the perfect choice for the public face of a sensitive international investigation that impacted the highest levels of government.
Hargrave nodded his assent. “In a way, Senator Sledge did us a favor with his little stunt. The NYPD are stepping back and requesting Detective Flint remain with the JTTF in a support role while we take the lead.”
Wu had expected that. It had been a calculated risk on Sledge’s part. He might hold more sway with the NYPD commissioner than the FBI director, but he had direct access to both. And the ability to throw his weight around.
“The covert investigation is highly sensitive,” Hargrave said. “I want you to run point on that personally.”
Wu was the special agent in charge of the FBI’s New York Counterterrorism Division, which included the largest JTTF in the nation. He supervised more than 450 personnel from sixty-one different law enforcement agencies.
He was not a case agent.
And then realization dawned. This assignment was equal parts plausible deniability for Hargrave and a test for Wu. If the assistant director put a high-ranking official like Wu out in front, he could reasonably claim to have left all major decision-making up to his subordinate. If it all blew up, Hargrave would be clear of the fallout. No one would criticize him for lack of supervision when he had appointed his second-in-command to lead the case.
Wu inclined his head, acknowledging the implications. “And I’ll perform my normal duties as well.”
“Let me know if you need additional help,” Hargrave said, turning back to the papers on his large desk. “You can take your pick.”
Understanding himself to be dismissed, Wu got to his feet. He was about to leave when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. After reflexively pulling it out, he tapped the screen and sucked in a deep breath.
“What’s up?” Hargrave asked him.
“I asked Agent Vega to text me if computer forensics and crypto extracted any hidden files from the photograph of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”
Still holding the phone, he turned it so Hargrave could read the single word glowing on its screen.
JACKPOT.
CHAPTER 12
Dani glanced up as Wu strode into the task force’s situation room. The SAC’s normally smooth features were drawn, and his jaw was taut. Judging by his demeanor, any forward progress in their investigation would be welcome.
“Senator Sledge is dirty as hell,” she said, getting straight to the point.
Wu gave her a curt nod and shifted his gaze to Johnson, who was at her terminal. “Show me what we’ve got.”
Johnson typed in commands that populated the viewing screen with an array of digital files. “It’s a treasure trove,” she said. “I don’t know who got this stuff or how they did it, but the evidence against the senator goes back years.”
She began clicking open the files, expanding spreadsheets, correspondence, and wire transfers that mapped out a trail of financial institutions around the world, leading from the United States to a bank account in the Cayman Islands. Other files showed how the offshore account could be linked back to Sledge through a variety of screens.
“Calling it evidence is a bit of a stretch,” Wu said after studying the screen for several minutes. “None of this is admissible in court. We need to confirm everything with our own investigation.”
The FBI couldn’t rely solely on anonymously sourced information to make an arrest, and no US Attorney would use it to prosecute. Dani had been thinking about the challenge this newly obtained data posed while waiting for Wu to return from his meeting with the assistant director.