Titus Ray Thriller Box Set, page 65
part #1 of Titus Ray Series
Felipe shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. He would have shot me the way he did those guards.”
Mitchell was out of his chair and up in Felipe’s face within seconds. “You’re responsible for the deaths of all those people today, whether you pulled that trigger or not.”
I grabbed Mitchell’s shoulder. “Back off.”
He turned and walked away.
Whether role playing or not, Mitchell’s bad cop routine bordered on perfection.
In contrast, I apologized to Felipe for Mitchell’s behavior and offered him a drink of water.
After taking a swig, he handed the bottle back to me. “Since Reyes took the backpack out of the trunk to begin with, how did you end up with it?”
Felipe looked down at his wrists. “You promised to take these off if I told you about him.”
“I’ll do that as soon as you explain why you were the one carrying the backpack instead of Reyes.”
He sighed and laid his head back against the chair for a few seconds. When he looked up again, his speech was hurried, as if he might want to get the whole thing over with quickly.
“After Reyes shot the guards, we ran over to the next building, where he herded everyone inside an office. There were two women, a young kid, and an old man in there. Reyes found a small closet inside the office and locked them all inside. I kept asking him why he was doing this, but all he’d say was that he was doing it for Allah. When I—”
“Allah? He said he was doing it for Allah?”
He nodded. “A few hours after we left Fayetteville, he told me he was a practicing Muslim. He had a prayer rug with him, and we had to stop several times so he could perform his prayers.”
Mitchell asked, “Did he tell you why Allah wanted him to kill people?”
Felipe ignored Mitchell and spoke directly to me. “Once he shot the guards, he refused to tell me anything, and he kept threatening to shoot me if I didn’t stop asking him questions. As soon as he put those people in the closet, he turned on a television set, and he got very excited when he saw all the policemen and ambulances arriving. That’s when I decided I had to get out of there. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the cops arrived and tried to rescue those people.”
Felipe sounded breathless as he began reliving that moment. “Reyes had dropped the backpack when he’d entered the office, so when he turned his back to adjust the volume on the TV, I picked it up and ran out of the room. He followed me out in the hallway and shot at me a couple of times, but I ducked inside a stairwell.”
He shook his head. “A few minutes later, I heard the two women screaming and some other shots being fired, so I guess he must have gone back inside the office and shot those people.” His voice trailed off. “He shot them all, even the boy.”
No one spoke for several seconds.
Finally, Mitchell said, “That’s the reason the SWAT teams decided to go in. They heard shots being fired.”
I asked Felipe, “When the SWAT teams arrived, how were you able to get away?”
“As soon as they entered the building, Reyes immediately came out of the office and began firing at them. I used the opportunity to escape through the fire exit door underneath the stairwell.”
Mitchell sounded skeptical. “How were you able to make it all the way over to the other side of the Navy Yard without being caught?”
“I found an empty building and slipped inside it for a while. I decided there had to be another way off the base, so I just started walking in the opposite direction of the front gate.”
I nodded toward the backpack. “And the drugs? What were you planning to do with them?”
He looked surprised at my question. “Sell them, of course. I told you. I have a buyer. If you let me go, I’ll split the profits with you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe Reyes had a buyer for the heroin. He was lying to you about that.”
Tiny droplets of moisture appeared on Felipe’s upper lip. He sounded desperate. “No, he wasn’t lying to me. The guy called him several times on his cell phone. I have his number.”
“What’s the number?” I asked.
“I wrote it down.”
“Where?” I asked. “I didn’t find anything in your pockets. You didn’t even have a cell phone on you.”
“I wrote it down on a bag of potato chips. It’s in the backpack. Give it to me.”
I didn’t give Felipe the backpack.
Instead, I dumped the contents on the floor at his feet, and Mitchell and I sifted through the stuff until we came across a snack-size yellow bag of potato chips.
Felipe said, “That’s the one. See? There’s the phone number. He’s the buyer.”
The writing was faint, but I could make out some numbers.
I handed the bag to Mitchell.
“That’s a D.C. area code,” he said.
I asked, “How did you manage to get this number from Reyes?”
“The day before yesterday, while I was waiting in the car for Reyes to come back from his midday prayers, I noticed his cell phone had been left on the front seat. He’d been talking to his contact before we stopped for lunch, so I took a look at the last number he’d called and wrote it down on the bag before he got back inside the car.”
I asked, “What were you planning to do with the number?”
Felipe shrugged. “I considered it insurance, just in case Reyes decided to double cross me or wouldn’t fork over the money he’d promised me.”
Mitchell said, “Weren’t you afraid Reyes would find the number when he decided to have a snack?”
Felipe shook his head. “He only ate healthy foods. Those apples and oranges in there belonged to him, and he didn’t touch the other stuff.”
I said, “Tell me about Reyes’ friend, Alejandro, the one who got sick and couldn’t make the trip.”
“I never met him.”
“Reyes never mentioned him?”
Felipe thought for a second. “He said the two of them went through school together in Caracas. He also said Alejandro was the person who’d invited him to check out the mosque where he was converted.”
“So Alejandro is also a Muslim?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
There was a knock on the door. When Mitchell opened it, Arkady stuck his head in and motioned for me to join him in the hallway.
I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
“Mr. Carlton just called. He’ll be arriving in ten minutes.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
When I turned to go back inside, Arkady grabbed my arm. I was sure his grip had bruised my arm.
“I don’t think you understand, Titus. Mr. Carlton doesn’t allow anyone to eat in his study.”
I attempted to reassure him. “Okay, Arkady. Give me a minute, and then you can come in and clear away the dishes. Douglas doesn’t have to know we broke his rules.”
I should have known better.
* * * *
As soon as I went back inside the study, I told Mitchell I needed to make a phone call before Carlton’s guests arrived, and he came over and helped me untie Felipe’s restraints and take off his cuffs.
Once Felipe was on his feet, I handed him the plate of food Arkady had left for me and pointed him toward the patio. “Enjoy your food.”
Mitchell took out his handgun and said, “Make the phone call. I’ve got this.”
As soon as I closed the French doors behind them, I scooped up all the stuff I’d dumped out of Felipe’s backpack and put it back inside.
Everything, but the yellow bag of potato chips.
A few seconds later, when Arkady came in to clear away the dishes, I walked over and handed him the bag of chips.
“Tell Millie to put this away for safekeeping. When I get hungry later, I’ll come and get it.”
He placed the bag on his tray and left the room without a word.
Once he was gone, I took out my phone and punched in Katherine’s number.
Katherine Broward was one of the Agency’s top intelligence analysts. I’d worked with her on several occasions, including Operation Clear Signal, and although we’d attempted to have a more-than-just-friend’s relationship several years ago, it had never gone anywhere.
She answered her phone the way she always did—by repeating her phone number.
“Hi, Katherine, it’s Titus.”
“They’re looking for you.”
“It’s taken care of.”
“What were you thinking?”
“According to Carlton, I wasn’t.”
“I’m inclined to agree with him.”
“Please don’t tell him that. He has way too much self-esteem as it is.”
“You know, Titus, something tells me this isn’t just a social call.”
“As always, your analysis is right on target. So, here’s the thing. I have a phone number, and I’d like you to run it for me.”
“Off the books? Are you serious? That would be—”
“Strictly speaking, it won’t be off the books.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means someone will eventually ask you to check out the number anyway. What I want you to do is to run a preliminary data dig on it. Like right now. Do it as a personal favor to me for old times’ sake.”
As I waited for her to respond, I could hear Arkady speaking to someone in the hallway.
Katherine said, “Okay, this goes against my better judgment, but give me the number.”
I gave her the number I’d memorized from Felipe’s yellow bag of chips and disconnected the call.
Seconds later, the door to the study suddenly swung open and Carlton walked in.
He was followed by four men dressed in suits.
All four were serious looking guys.
Well, counting Carlton, all five of them were serious looking guys.
Chapter 8
Within a few seconds, Carlton assessed the situation and started issuing orders. First, he directed the men in suits, who were from the Department of Homeland Security, to take Felipe into custody.
The moment he gave that order, two of the suits went out on the patio and grabbed Felipe, placing handcuffs on him once again. As that was taking place, Carlton had me open up the backpack and show him its contents. The other two DHS guys also walked over to take a look inside.
When the younger of the two saw the heroin, he let out a high-pitched whistle, while the older guy uttered a curse word.
Carlton didn’t say anything.
The older guy appeared to be in charge—Carlton called him Arnie—and he demanded I tell him where I’d stashed the AR-15.
When I told him it was out in the Suburban, and I offered to go get it, he gave me a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look and told The Whistler Guy to go retrieve it.
Arnie appeared to be distrustful of me.
I thought I knew why.
A few minutes later, they brought Felipe in from the patio. The look on his face was one of resignation, and he never even glanced in my direction as they marched him out of the study.
Once this drama was over, Arnie wanted Carlton’s assurance any information I’d obtained from Felipe Arcos would be turned over to the Secretary of Homeland Security within twenty-four hours.
Carlton looked sincere as he gave him that assurance.
Before leaving, Arnie turned to Carlton and said, “We’re even now, Douglas. I don’t owe you anything.”
“Understood.”
Arnie nodded in my direction. “The FBI may still want to question him, though.”
“Quite possibly.”
Carlton walked out in the hallway with Arnie, reentering the study a few minutes later. After closing the door behind him, he came over to the fireplace where Mitchell and I were standing.
I’d already prepared myself for his tongue lashing about Felipe.
“Which one of you brought food in here?” he asked.
* * * *
Even though both of us feigned ignorance of any food infraction, Carlton kept sniffing the air and insisting he smelled onions.
I offered to open up the French doors and let in some fresh air, but when Carlton sat down at his desk, he forgot all about discovering the culprit who’d created the stench in his study.
Instead, he wanted to know what intel Mitchell and I had on Felipe Arcos and Reyes Valario.
He pointed his finger at Mitchell. “What did you learn over at the Command Center?”
Mitchell hesitated for a second.
Since Carlton was head of the Agency’s Middle East division, he wasn’t Mitchell’s boss, at least not technically.
Mitchell’s boss was C.J. Salazar, head of the Latin America division. Thus, according to the rules governing Agency protocol, Mitchell didn’t have to answer Carlton’s question, because he was operating under the Latin American division.
An exception to this organizational structure had been made during Operation Clear Signal, when Ahmed Al-Amin, a Middle Eastern operative, had been traveling in Latin America. Both divisions had been involved then, and the DDO had ordered Carlton and Salazar to work together, which meant Mitchell and I had found ourselves answering to two bosses.
I knew Mitchell didn’t have much respect for his own boss, so it didn’t surprise me when he responded to Carlton’s question a few seconds later.
“When I was over at the Command Center, their analysts were still running the threads on Valario. All they had on him was pretty much what the Agency had given them—he was here on a student visa from Caracas, and he was enrolled at the University of Arkansas. One of the feds said he thought Valario was a good marksman just by the way he took out those guards at the gate.”
Carlton nodded. “We’ve determined Valario attended Hezbollah’s training camp on Margarita Island two years ago. That’s probably where he got his training.”
My pulse quickened. “Really? You’ve confirmed this?”
“Why are you surprised? A few hours ago, you sounded certain this shooting was tied to the Clear Signal operation. You insisted it was the reason you grabbed Arcos in the first place. Was that true or were you just blowing smoke?”
“When I saw the response to the shooting, I knew it fit the scenario Roberto had outlined in The Caracas Document. Let’s face it, Douglas, all the news outlets this morning were providing Hezbollah a video lesson on how law enforcement would react to a terrorist event in D.C.”
Carlton nodded. “That’s true. But—”
“As to the rest ... well, I’m not exactly sure why I decided to grab him.”
Carlton rubbed his hand back and forth across his bald head a couple of times. “Knowing you, I can understand that, but I need something more concrete than just your gut premonition to explain your behavior. Did you at least get some intel out of Arcos? Otherwise, ...”
His voice trailed off.
I knew what Carlton was implying, so I immediately summarized what Felipe had told us about Reyes Valario and why he’d made the trip to Washington with him.
The only part I left out was the phone number on the potato chip bag.
The moment I began reciting this narrative, Carlton pulled out a legal pad from his desk drawer and started making some notes. When I ended my account, he lifted the lid on his laptop and started typing.
A few minutes later, he looked up and asked, “Did Felipe give you a last name on this Alejandro?”
“No, but that shouldn’t matter. He’s a student at the university, so—”
He waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten to tell me something.”
“Not likely.”
Carlton went back to his screen, and, after a few more keystrokes, he closed the lid and said, “I just sent the Ops Center a summary of your interrogation of Felipe. I’ve also scheduled a meeting with the entire operations team for ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Nolan is drawing up some possible scenarios on the reasons behind Valario’s actions today and gathering information on his Hezbollah connections.”
“Nolan’s directing the team? Where’s Olivia?”
“She called in sick this morning.”
Carlton didn’t elaborate, but I wasn’t surprised to hear about Olivia McConnell’s absence.
Olivia had breast cancer, something she’d revealed to me in a safe house on Margarita Island the night before the Clear Signal team had flown into Caracas.
She’d also indicated she didn’t plan on having a mastectomy, even though that’s what her doctors had advised her to do. Her mother and sister had both died from the disease, but she told me she wasn’t going to put herself through the turmoil they’d gone through trying to fight the inevitable outcome.
I’d tried to convince her to change her mind about having the surgery, but Olivia wasn’t known for changing her mind about anything—especially if the person doing the coercing happened to be a man.
Olivia had issues with men, or at least with those who didn’t treat her as an equal.
I said, “Olivia won’t be happy with any scenario put forth by Nolan.”
Carlton nodded. “When she’s back at work tomorrow, I’m sure Nolan will get an earful of her revisions.”
Olivia was not at work the next day.
Nor was she at work the day after that.
* * * *
Carlton pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen. It was difficult to tell if he’d just received a text, or he was ignoring a caller, but after returning the phone to his pocket, he looked up at Mitchell and told him to check in with Salazar as soon as he got back to Langley.
Mitchell appeared to get the hint Carlton was dismissing him and said, “I was just leaving.”
Carlton looked over at me. “There’s no need for you to ride back with Ben. I drove your Range Rover out here to The Meadows.”
Mitchell got him and nodded at me. “I guess that means you can make it back to Langley on your own.”
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What about the ... ah ... stuff you left in the Suburban?”
I had to believe the imaginary stuff he was referring to was his way of letting me know he wanted to have a private conversation with me before he left, so I said, “Yeah, I better get that stuff out of your car. I’ll walk out with you.”
