“I’ll cooperate,” he said. “After I get full immunity. In writing.”
Wu had arranged for an Assistant United States Attorney to be on hand for just this purpose. The office of the Southern District of New York wasn’t far from their off-site undisclosed location, streamlining the process. The AUSA had prepared a proffer letter in advance in the hope that, since Toro had no legal counsel, he might accept the terms. Dani opened the manila folder he had been eyeing, pulled out a thin stack of stapled papers, and slid it across the table.
“Before you sign any agreement, you should understand that your cooperation will involve more than just naming names,” she told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”
She dropped the bomb with a casual air, as if it weren’t important. “We need to get inside.”
Toro’s brows shot up. “Inside what, exactly?”
“Inside whatever organization is behind the death of Nathan Costner.”
He stiffened. “How do you know there’s an organization? Why couldn’t it be one person?”
“This isn’t a mugging or a jealous husband killing off a rival,” she said, cutting through his bullshit. “A single person does not assassinate a politically affiliated target using an exotic poison delivered by an umbrella. That’s terrorist stuff. There’s a group behind this, and you’re getting an undercover agent inside.”
Toro glared at her in silence for a long moment. The pen in his hand hovered over the paper. “Are there suicidal agents in the FBI? Because what you’re asking is—”
“Let us worry about who we’re sending in,” she said. “Your job is to set it up.”
He swore. Wu had been right to send her in. Toro was flustered, something she imagined was unusual for him. She didn’t give him a chance to regain his composure.
“What group are you a part of, Toro?” she asked, pressing her advantage. “Because anyone involved is guilty of conspiracy at the bare minimum.”
His jaw tightened as he absorbed the information. He remained silent so long she expected him to abruptly end the interview and request an attorney; then he appeared to come to a conclusion. “There is a group,” he finally said. “But I want that document signed by everyone involved before I talk about it.”
Wu’s voice carried through Dani’s earpiece. “Tell him to look at the last page,” he said to her. “The AUSA is with me in the observation room. It’s already signed.”
Dani flipped the stapled pages to the last one and pointed to the signature line. “Done.”
He scrutinized the document several minutes before initialing various paragraphs and scrawling his name at the bottom.
“I want to hear all about the group,” she said, slipping the signed document back into the folder. “But first tell me who hired you.”
“He goes by ‘the Colonel,’” Toro said. “I’m not sure what his full name is, but a couple of the guys call him ‘Colonel X’ sometimes. I think his first or last name starts with X.”
Johnson, who was also listening in, would work with military intelligence analysts assigned to the JTTF to comb through various databases for anyone fitting that description.
Dani tried to help narrow the search. “Is he a real colonel?”
Toro shrugged, palms up. “No idea. He acts like he could be military, though.”
“What does he look like?”
“White, in his fifties, gray buzz cut, physically fit, walks like his boxers are starched.”
She shifted to an open-ended question to see how forthcoming Toro would be. “Explain what happened when he hired you.”
“We all have burner phones,” Toro began. “I was . . . out of town.”
She crossed her arms. “We know about the place in Monaco.” She didn’t elaborate. Let him wonder what else they had unearthed.
“The Colonel called me about a week ago,” he continued. “Said he had a high-priority assignment for me here in the city. The target was Senator Sledge’s chief of staff, and the hit was supposed to take place in a public setting where police would find him fast.”
“Why did the Colonel want him found in a public place?” she asked.
“He didn’t say.” Toro lifted a negligent shoulder. “I didn’t ask.”
He stopped, so she prompted him. “How were you supposed to do it?”
“The Colonel left an envelope for me at the front desk of the Chrysanthemum Hotel. I checked in four days ago under the name Guillermo Tovar.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “Same as my real initials, so it’s easy to remember.”
She gestured in a circular motion with her hand after he paused to admire his own cleverness.
He took the hint. “There were three darts inside, along with a note containing the target’s schedule and personal info.”
“What happened to the other two darts?”
“I’m not stupid enough to be caught with incriminating evidence.” He gave her an insolent smile. “The umbrella, darts, trench coat, hat, and glasses all ended up in the river along with the hazmat suit I changed into.” He put a hand to his mouth in mock embarrassment. “Oops. Was that illegal dumping? I guess I’m really in trouble now.”
He had disposed of the murder weapon and his disguise. The ERT would search his hotel room anyway, but he was probably telling the truth.
“You watched him then?” she continued, refusing to let him bait her.
Toro shook his head. “I scoped out my route and made my plans. According to the schedule, the target would buy coffee at the Starbucks on the corner of Lafayette and Worth at eight in the morning. After that, he would walk down Worth Street to the senator’s Lower Manhattan office.”
He had just confirmed their theory. Only a few people knew Costner’s habits. And one of them was Sledge. She would take him through the rest of the plan, then work to tie it back to the senator.
“I took a cab to the corner of Park Row and Worth,” Toro continued. “A good distance away from the coffee shop. Once I got out, I started walking toward Lafayette.”
“You were coming toward Costner then?” She deliberately used the victim’s name, refusing to depersonalize him as Toro did. “What happened next?”
“I had modified a foldable umbrella to hold the dart,” Toro said. “All I had to do was wait for the target to walk by.”
“Did you know what was in the dart?”
“I was only told that it was highly poisonous and not to let it touch my skin.”
“You didn’t synthesize the poison yourself then?”
“Not in my wheelhouse,” Toro said.
“Who does the Colonel know who could create a poison dart?”
Another long silence followed. She waited him out.
“Had to be Doc Tox,” he finally said.
They had crossed another threshold, but she wanted to know how much more he would give up. “Who’s Doc Tox?”
“Chemist,” Toro said. “Don’t know much about his background, but he’s the Colonel’s go-to guy for biohazardous stuff.”
“Name, address, and description?”
“The guy gives me the creeps. I don’t hang out with him. Like everyone else, I have no clue what his real name is or where he lives, but he’s a white guy in his early forties with curly brown hair. Not sure where he learned chemistry and bioweapons. Maybe he was in the military; maybe he worked for a private lab somewhere; hell, maybe he’s a frustrated high school science teacher. Who knows?”
She chose her next words carefully. “Does he have the ability to obtain . . . exotic poisons?”
“Sure. He travels a lot and smuggles stuff into the country. Not sure how he manages it, but I’ve seen what he can do.”
She couldn’t waste time on details that could be fleshed out through extended interviews later. The clock was ticking, and this so-called colonel would notice if Toro was out of pocket too long.
“But you knew the dose you placed in the umbrella was lethal?” she asked, documenting his guilt.
“Of course.” He looked annoyed. “That’s why it’s called a hit.”
She ignored the sarcasm. Part of her job was tying up legal loose ends in case the information was needed in court. She wanted to get the full extent of the danger he posed to the public on record. “And you pointed the umbrella’s tip at a child when I chased you?”
His features darkened. “No one was supposed to notice me. Everyone else stopped to help the target.” He met her gaze. “You didn’t, though. You ran after me instead.”
Had a cold-blooded killer just accused her of insensitivity?
“The girl.” She emphasized the words, keeping the blame where it belonged. “The child you were prepared to kill. Was that some sort of backup plan?”
“The backup plan was the bomb threat.”
He had just confessed to another felony. “You called it in as a diversion?”
His response oozed sarcasm. “I killed a man in broad daylight in a place filled with cops and Feds,” he said. “So, yeah, I needed to keep everyone busy for a few minutes.”
He seemed uncomfortable when she mentioned the student he had threatened. “Back to the girl,” she said.
His lips flattened into a hard line.