Titus Ray Thriller Box Set, page 64
part #1 of Titus Ray Series
“And think about—”
Before I could finish my thought, my Agency phone vibrated, and when I saw the caller ID, I answered it immediately.
“They’re looking for you,” Carlton said.
“Already? They must have found my Range Rover.”
“No. I took care of your vehicle. It’s sitting over here in the Agency’s west parking lot right now.”
“Did they identify me because of the CCTV cameras in the area?”
As soon as I mentioned the cameras, Mitchell gave me a disgusted look and got to his feet.
“No. It was Frank Benson.”
“Benson? He actually took some initiative? Good for him.”
“I was told the agent who got you through the 9th Street gate phoned Frank when you didn’t show up at the Command Center. She said you’d made some flimsy excuse to stay behind once you were inside the compound. Evidently, she also told Frank you weren’t very friendly toward her.”
I decided to ignore what Renee thought about my personality. It wasn’t relevant, and besides, Carlton knew what she said couldn’t possibly be true.
“How much time do we have?”
“You need to wrap things up there pretty quick. I’m bringing some friends of mine from DHS out to The Meadows in about two hours.”
“Two hours? How can I possibly extract all this man’s secrets in two hours?”
“Use your winsome personality.”
* * * *
The moment I hung up, I told Mitchell the Department of Homeland Security would be arriving at The Meadows to take Felipe into custody and escort him back to Washington.
Mitchell, who’d been pacing back and forth in front of the patio table, looked over at me. “Are you sure they’re not coming out here to take us into custody?”
“I’m sure.”
“Weren’t you also sure there were no CCTV cameras at the Navy Yard?”
“Right now, the only thing we need to be concerned about is how to get Felipe to talk to us before Carlton and his company arrive.”
“Did I hear you say we’ve only got two hours to get that done?”
“That’s right. Anything about Felipe jump out at you?”
On our run into Caracas together, I’d observed how good Mitchell had been at reading people, and while it had been disconcerting when he’d pointed things out about me, his ability had been useful when we’d interrogated Roberto Montilla.
He shook his head. “One thing’s for sure. He doesn’t seem to be grieving over his partner’s death.”
I walked over and stared at Felipe through the small glass panes in the French doors. He appeared to be extremely uncomfortable in the wingback chair where Mitchell had restrained him.
However, unlike most Jihadists I’d seen in similar situations, he looked defeated, and there was no fire in his eyes when he saw me staring at him.
I walked back over to Mitchell.
“There’s not much fight in him. When you were at the Command Center with DHS, did you pick up anything about the other shooter?”
He shook his head. “Not much. They put me over in a corner of their trailer with a couple of FBI guys and told all of us to stay out of their way. The only thing I heard them say was that Valario had probably had some weapons training, and he was a good marksman.”
I thought back to when I’d first seen Felipe with the rifle. “I’m not so sure that’s true of him.”
“Maybe it’s time we took a look at the backpack he was carrying.”
I nodded. “You’re right. While I’d prefer one of the guys from the bomb squad examine it first, there might be something in there we could use to get Felipe to talk.”
Both of us were quiet for a few seconds.
Finally I said, “Give me the keys to the Suburban. I’ll go take a look at it.”
Mitchell dangled the car keys in front of me and didn’t say a word.
Apparently, he wasn’t about to volunteer to handle the backpack himself.
Had he offered, I wouldn’t have let him do it anyway.
He probably knew that.
That’s what I told myself.
Chapter 6
I took some precautions before opening up Felipe’s backpack. First, I drove the SUV away from the house and parked it further down the road. Second, I made sure I had a clear pathway away from the vehicle, just in case I saw something inside the bag—something with a timing device attached to it—and I needed to make a quick run for it.
Although I hadn’t jogged in years, I knew I could set a record in the 100-meter dash, especially if I were trying to outrun an exploding backpack.
Having done everything I could to protect Gladys’ magnificent house and my fragile body, I placed the backpack in the drainage ditch beside the car and loosened the straps.
Seconds before lifting the flap, I voiced a short prayer.
It wasn’t an instinctive act on my part, and, until recently, I’d never uttered a single prayer in my life.
However, while hiding out from the Iranian secret police in Tehran, I’d been forced to live for three months with some Iranian Christians. That experience had changed my life. Their faith and commitment to the teachings of Christ had sparked a feeling of discontentment in me and had fueled my own desire to have the same sort of peace they exhibited.
Shortly before being smuggled out of Iran, I’d made my own decision to follow Christ, and the first prayer I’d ever prayed had been the words Javad, my host, had told me to repeat after him.
Now, my words were just as simple. “God, I’d like to go on living, but if it’s my time to go, please make it quick and easy.”
I lifted the flap and peered inside.
Seconds later, with one quick motion, I turned around and started to sprint away.
But then, I stopped and took another look inside the bag.
What I’d assumed were bricks of Semtex—a pliable plastic explosive—turned out to be several large bags of compressed heroin. Ultimately, though, what had caused me to take a second look inside the backpack had been something I hadn’t seen there.
I hadn’t seen a cell phone or a trigger device.
While it was entirely possible for someone to detonate Semtex using a different device, most terrorists used a cell phone to trigger the explosive material. There wasn’t a cell phone inside the bag, nor had Felipe had one on him when I’d frisked him at the Navy Yard.
In addition to the missing cell phone, I’d also noticed items in the shooter’s bag that didn’t seem to belong there.
There were at least a dozen small bags of cookies, a box of crackers, some potato chips, and an assortment of oranges, apples, and bananas, plus several bottles of water.
I lifted one of the packs of heroin—wrapped in yellowed wax paper—out of the bag and looked it over. It probably weighed about a kilo. I quickly estimated the street value of the four packs of heroin at around a million dollars.
Had I been wrong about the shooters? Was the Navy Yard shooting just another drug deal gone bad?
My gut said no, and my gut premonition—as Carlton liked to call it—was seldom wrong.
It wasn’t always right either.
* * * *
I drove back up to the house, and, as I entered the foyer, I found Mitchell just coming out of Carlton’s study.
I nodded towards the door. “Everything okay in there?”
“Everything’s fine. I told Arkady to keep an eye on Felipe while I came out to check on you.”
He gestured toward the backpack in my hand. “I see you survived.”
“It was a harrowing experience, but I made it through.” I tossed the backpack over to him. “Take a look inside.”
He sat down on a wooden bench in the entryway and placed the bag on the floor between his legs.
He looked up at me after examining its contents, and I could tell he was beginning to question whether my suppositions about the two shooters were correct.
“Looks like it’s time for a little reassessment.”
“No. It’s time we found out why a Hezbollah recruit on a suicide mission had a million dollars’ worth of drugs in his possession.”
“So you’re still sticking with your theory? You think Felipe and his partner were sent here by Hezbollah to scout out the venue before the main event?”
I nodded. “I still believe they’re connected to Hezbollah, but I have to admit I’m not exactly sure how those drugs fit into their agenda. Remember though, the Zeta drug cartel in Mexico has an ongoing relationship with Hezbollah in Syria, and it was the cartel who helped Ahmed Al-Amin cross the Texas border and enter the U.S. a few weeks ago.”
Mitchell handed me the backpack. “The only way to know for sure is to get Felipe to talk, but when I was in there just now, he wouldn’t say a word to me.”
I wanted to point out he hadn’t exactly exhibited a caring attitude toward the guy, but instead, I opened up the backpack and pulled out a box of crackers.
“I think we can use this as an incentive to get him to talk to us.”
“Crackers?”
“What’s the one sentence Felipe uttered during our forty-five-minute drive over here?”
Mitchell thought for a second. “Tengo hambre.”
“Correct. He said he was hungry. I’m guessing either this guy loves to eat or he’s one of those hungry-all-the-time kind of people. Maybe he could be induced to talk if we bribe him with some food.”
Mitchell looked skeptical and grabbed the crackers out of my hand. “You think we’ll get him to crack if we give him some ... crackers?”
He chuckled at his own joke.
“As amusing as that was, Ben, I really don’t think it’s going to take much to get Felipe to talk.”
Mitchell glanced down at his watch. “Let’s hope you’re right. Carlton and his entourage will be here in less than ninety minutes.”
* * * *
Mitchell returned to the study and sent Arkady out to the foyer so I could make arrangements with him for a food delivery from Millie’s kitchen.
Arkady didn’t question me about my odd request, nor did he seem the least bit curious as to why Felipe, who was still wearing the FBI shirt, was tied down in an armchair in Carlton’s study. His attitude made me wonder how often Carlton had used The Meadows for an off-the-books enterprise.
Although I doubted Felipe was a practicing Muslim, as Arkady headed out to the kitchen to confer with Millie, I told him, “Be sure and leave off the pork.”
Arkady waved his hand at me without looking back and disappeared down the hallway.
Meanwhile, I grabbed Felipe’s backpack and reentered the study.
When Felipe saw the bag in my hand, his eyes widened, and the duct tape around his mouth appeared to move a little, as if he might be trying to smile.
I realized it was the first time Felipe had seen the backpack since I’d ordered him to drop it at the entrance to Building 172. Once that had happened, he’d probably thought he’d never see the bag or its contents again.
Now, for the first time since grabbing him, I detected a measure of hope on his face.
I motioned for Mitchell to join me at the small square gaming table in a corner of the room. The tabletop consisted of a solid wooden chess board, and even though there appeared to be a game in progress, I’d never heard Carlton talk about playing chess before.
He was excellent at recognizing patterns, thinking ahead, and analyzing weaknesses, so it didn’t surprise me he was also a chess player.
After sweeping the chess pieces into the drawers at the sides of the table, I set the backpack on top and started pulling out the drugs. Mitchell followed my lead, and we made a big deal about finding the drugs inside and discussing what the value of the heroin might be on the streets of D.C.
Although our exchange was in English, I felt sure Felipe was picking up the gist of what we were saying.
After putting on this little show for several minutes, I walked over and ripped the duct tape from Felipe’s mouth, demanding he tell us about the drugs.
He moved his jaw up and down a few times, as if wanting to make sure everything was still working properly. After that, he said he was thirsty.
I twisted the cap off a bottle of water and allowed him to drink about half of it before removing it from his lips and putting it back down on the table.
“What were you planning to do with the drugs at the Navy Yard?”
He held his handcuffed wrists out in front of him and said, “Take these off, and I’ll tell you everything.”
I didn’t believe him, but I took the fact he was trying to bargain with me as a good sign.
“Explain what you and your friend were doing at the Navy Yard this morning. Once you do that, I’ll remove your restraints. That’s the way this works, not the other way around.”
He frowned. “Reyes was not my friend.”
“No? Then why were you with him this morning?”
He nodded his head in the direction of the table, where four packets of heroin, stacked two across, were on display in front of Mitchell.
“I have a solid buyer for those,” he said. “Take me to him, and I’ll split the money with you.”
After seeing the look on Felipe’s face when he’d spotted the backpack, I wasn’t surprised he was trying to work out a deal with me now.
I shook my head. “Tell me about your relationship with Reyes. What were you doing at the Navy Yard? Why did you shoot all those people?”
There was a knock on the door, and Mitchell quickly tossed the heroin inside the backpack before Arkady walked in the room.
The smell of onions wafted in after him, and I spotted slabs of sizzling steaks, fried potatoes, and onion rings on the large tray he was carrying.
After placing the tray on the gaming table, Arkady looked over at Felipe. “Shall I bring in a plate for him?”
Mitchell, who was already devouring an onion ring, immediately spoke up. “That won’t be necessary.”
There was no mistaking the look of disappointment on Felipe’s face. As soon as Arkady had left the room, I pulled up a chair, and sat down across from him.
“There’s a lot of good food over there, Felipe, and I don’t mind sharing it with you. But first, you’ll have to tell me what you and your partner were doing at the Navy Yard this morning.”
His eyes narrowed. “I told you. Reyes was not my partner.”
“You said Reyes was not your friend. You didn’t say Reyes was not your partner.”
Felipe raised his voice. “He wasn’t my partner or my friend. He wasn’t anything to me. Don’t you get that? I barely knew him.”
“Okay, so you barely knew him. If that’s true, then why were you at the Navy Yard with him this morning?”
This was it. My interrogation of Felipe had reached critical mass.
Either Felipe was about to clam up, or he was about to start giving us some answers.
I was betting on the latter.
Chapter 7
Felipe didn’t answer my question. Instead, he turned away from me and stared out the window.
Just when I’d made up my mind to try a different approach with him, he turned around and said, “I was with Reyes this morning because his roommate, Alejandro, couldn’t make the trip with him. He said Alejandro was in the hospital with a ruptured appendix.”
Although I was eager to learn more about the absent Alejandro, I didn’t want him to know that, so I asked him again, “If you barely knew Reyes, what were you doing in D.C. with him?”
Felipe glanced over at Mitchell.
I was betting it was the food commanding his attention and not Mitchell, and I decided to put that theory to the test. “Look, Felipe, tell me about your relationship with Reyes, and I’ll untie your hands and let you eat steak until it makes you sick.”
He glanced down at his shackled wrists for a moment, and then he looked up at me and said, “Reyes came over to my place three days ago. He said he wanted to buy some reefers from me, but after we’d made the transaction, he asked if I’d be interested in making a delivery to the East Coast with him. After he told me how much he’d pay me, I said yes, and that’s when he went out to his car and brought in the backpack.”
When Felipe paused, I jumped in. “Had you met Reyes before he showed up at your place?”
“He was at my apartment with some other guys once, but I didn’t actually talk to him then. One of the other students made the purchase. After that, whenever I saw him around campus, he always spoke to me.”
“So I’m guessing he knew you as the local campus drug connection?”
Felipe nodded. “I guess so.”
Mitchell asked, “Reyes was a drug dealer then? That’s what he was doing at the Navy Yard this morning?”
“Reyes isn’t ... wasn’t a drug dealer. He said he’d agreed to help a friend in Mexico get the heroin to a buyer on the East Coast.”
“Was this buyer at the Washington Navy Yard?” I asked.
“No. I’d never heard of that place until this morning when Reyes drove us over there. He told me the buyer lived in the Royal Courts Apartments on 4th Street, but instead of turning in at the apartment complex, he turned in the opposite direction and drove us onto that military base. I couldn’t believe what he was doing because I could see there were guards at the gate, and I knew they might search the car and find the drugs.”
“He drove you right up to the gate?”
He shook his head. “No, instead of driving up to the gate, he pulled off onto the shoulder before we got there. When the guards started yelling at him, he got out of the car, opened up the trunk, and pulled out the backpack. That’s when he took out the two rifles.”
Felipe bowed his head. When he looked up again, he said, “I had no idea the guns were even in there. He handed me one and told me to follow him or I’d end up dead. When he grabbed the backpack, I followed him. What else could I do?”
“You could have said no,” Mitchell said. “You could have refused to go with him.”
