Titus Ray Thriller Box Set, page 82
part #1 of Titus Ray Series
I’d seen this on more than one occasion.
Once, when the two of us were tracking a Palestinian terrorist across Europe and were faced with an inconsistency in his movements, Benson had stayed up all night charting out a minute-by-minute timeline of the man’s activities. In the end, the only reason we’d been able to grab the guy was because of Benson’s dogged determination to ferret out some minor detail.
I asked, “What makes you think the shooting wasn’t drug-related?”
“Because that scenario doesn’t fit the facts.”
He reached in his jeans’ pocket and dug out a folded sheet of paper, bringing it over to Carlton’s desk.
“Take a look at this,” he said, unfolding the paper and laying it out on the desk in front of me.
The drawings on the sheet of paper turned out to be a synopsis of his research on the shooter, Reyes Valario. One look at it, and I quickly came to the conclusion he’d done his homework.
Benson had outlined what he’d discovered about Valario in a series of arrows and boxes, with each detail in the man’s life written in a rectangular box and each box used as a signpost leading over to the next event. Then, he’d tried to connect each of the signposts with an arrow pointing to Valario’s final destination—the Navy Yard.
Benson was still missing a few key details, though, and I suspected it was the absence of those details, and not primarily his anger at me for putting his job in jeopardy, which had caused him to follow me out to The Meadows.
Benson pointed to one of the rectangular boxes on his outline and said, “Let’s start here with WK Photography. Valario had his first contact with the studio three months ago.”
He moved his finger over to another box.
“One week later, he joined a hobby club, the Razorback Century Club in Fayetteville. Immediately after showing up at the club, Valario called the studio’s owner and chatted for a few minutes.”
“The owner? You mean Walid Khouri, the owner of the photography studio?”
Benson nodded. “That’s right, and that brings me to this question. What does the Agency have on Khouri?”
“Why ask me?” I said. “You know the Bureau has channels for acquiring information from the Agency.”
“I’ve submitted a request to the Agency but it’s taking too long, and I suspect it’s being stonewalled by Douglas or someone further up the chain of command. I’m still persona non-grata over there, thanks to you.”
I knew he was baiting me, but I refused to bite. Instead I said, “Since you’ve asked me that question, I have to assume you have something to offer me in kind?”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. You give me the intel on Khouri, and I’ll tell you what Valario was doing on his visits to the Century Club.”
I shook my head. “Cartel Carlos is heading up the investigation into the Valario connection. If there’s anything new there, I would have heard of it by now.”
“Seriously? Are you kidding me? The only thing Cartel Carlos cares about is tracing that heroin back to the cartels. I just got back from Fayetteville, and I didn’t stumble across any of Salazar’s spooks anywhere near that hobby club.”
“You’ve been down to Fayetteville?”
“I just got back on Friday. This morning, when I heard you were also back in town, I headed over to Langley and—”
“Yeah, I know. That’s when you followed me out here.”
For the first time since seeing him in the driveway, I took a really good look at Benson.
He looked pretty haggard. I was guessing he hadn’t had much sleep, and his beard was more than just a five o’clock shadow. Whether it was a style choice on his part, or the result of not having enough time to shave, I wasn’t sure. At any rate, his square jaw seemed less prominent now, which made me wonder if Clarice Duncan would still find him so appealing.
Benson tapped the spot on the paper where he’d written Razorback Century Club. “Do you want to know why Reyes Valario joined the hobby club or not?”
“I’m sure Douglas has that information by now. He’s pretty tight with some of your colleagues over there at the Bureau.”
He shook his head. “The Director doesn’t know about these details yet. You’d be the first to hear what I’ve learned about Valario.”
Benson was hitting me in my soft spot. He knew exactly what he was offering me.
Fresh intel.
Newly minted.
Never touched by human hands.
I grabbed the bait. “It’s a deal.”
Chapter 30
I walked away from Carlton’s desk and sat down in the armchair by the fireplace. Benson immediately grabbed his outline off the desk and took the chair opposite me.
I said, “The details I have about Walid Khouri are pretty sketchy right now, but after tomorrow’s briefing, I could learn a lot more.”
Once I’d told Benson what Katherine had turned up on Khouri and what I’d learned from Carlton earlier in the day, he said, “That’s it? Khouri recently traveled to the Middle East, and he’s not connected to the drug trade. That’s all the intel you’ve got on him?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Your turn now. Tell me about the hobby club. Was Valario interested in photography? Was that his connection to Khouri?”
For a few seconds, he looked at me without saying a word, and I thought he was about to refuse to share his intel on Valario with me because of the limited details I’d given him on Khouri.
Finally, he shook his head and said, “Not exactly. Razorback Century Club is a conglomerate of hobbies housed under one roof. Besides photography, they offer classes in a bunch of crafty stuff like painting and quilting, but those are just their indoor activities. They also sponsor outdoor hobbies, and that’s what he was interested in.”
“Bird watching? Archery? What?”
“Reyes Valario was there to learn about model airplanes, specifically how to fly them.”
When I heard this, I experienced an immediate letdown. “You mean those remote-controlled airplanes made out of Styrofoam?”
“I guess that’s what they were made of when you were a kid, but, in these modern times, they’ve improved them quite a bit.”
“I’m not that much older than you.”
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
I tapped my watch. “Wrap this up, Frank. Nikki’s waiting for me.”
He smiled, and I thought he was about to make another smart remark, but then he turned serious. “I interviewed the president of the club and also the guy who’d been giving Valario lessons. Both of them told me Valario had already mastered the rudiments of flying the larger models. What he really wanted to do was to learn how to fly the new stuff, like drones, especially the commercial ones. He said he’d been offered a summer intern position requiring him to take aerial photographs for a real estate agent who owned a drone, and he needed to get up to speed quickly.”
I considered this new intel a moment. “Were you able figure out why Valario kept calling Khouri after every lesson? Did you find out if those conversations were ever overheard by anyone?”
“That’s a negative. The Agency should contact the National Security Agency and get a transcript of those actual conversations. I was only able to access the phone number Valario called. When I did, I realized he was making calls to Khouri after almost every session.”
“While this is interesting, Frank, for all we know, Reyes could have been telling the truth. Maybe he did have a summer job lined up with a realtor. Maybe he was just consulting a professional photographer about how to take aerial photographs.”
“I also did some research on his intern story, and I came up with nothing. It was a big fat zero.”
“What’s the bottom line on Reyes Valario then? What’s your assessment?”
Benson leaned forward in his chair. “Reyes had no connection with buying or selling drugs, except for the time he bought some weed. Yeah, I know he had over a million dollars’ worth of heroin with him at the Navy Yard last Monday, but I believe the heroin was a diversion.”
“To what end?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but I’m betting you do.”
Carlton had told me the Agency had briefed the Bureau on the possibility of a chemical weapons attack on Washington, so I decided to share my theory about the Navy Yard shooter with Benson. I also told him I believed the whole episode had been a suicide mission for Valario from the very start.
He wasn’t totally convinced.
“If that’s true, why was Valario intent on learning to fly a UAV? Why would he have spent the money for lessons only to martyr himself a few weeks later?”
“You’ll have to get those answers yourself, Frank. I have other fish to fry.”
“I will figure this out. You can bet on that.”
“I suspect the key player is Walid Khouri.”
He nodded. “I totally agree.”
I stood up and headed for the door, but then, after taking a few steps, I turned and faced Benson again.
“As I said, there’s a possibility I’ll pick up some new intel on Khouri at my briefing tomorrow. Of course, you’ll probably get that same information ... eventually.”
He stared at me until my pointed remark clicked with him. “Let’s suppose I wanted access to that intel earlier. Is there something I could do to expedite that process?”
I looked up at the ceiling a minute. “Ummm, let’s see, Frank. I can’t really think of anything. Oh, wait,” I gave him my best smile, “there is one thing.”
“Just name it.”
“I know how difficult that Quantico training course can be. If I have your assurance Detective Saxon will get all the help she needs to pass that course, then I might give you a call after my briefing tomorrow and tell you what I’ve learned about Khouri.”
He smiled. “Oh, you bet. I’ll take good care of her.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket. “Here’s my number. Call me anytime.”
I pocketed the card and said, “Let’s be clear about one thing, Frank. The detective doesn’t need to know we’ve had this conversation.”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
If only that were true.
* * * *
As I drove Nikki back to The Waterwheel to pick up her car, I tried keeping the conversation light by bringing up Arkady’s stories about growing up in Tbilisi.
She changed the subject immediately.
“What was really going on with Frank Benson tonight?”
Her voice sounded flat, but the darkened interior of the car made it nearly impossible for me to read the expression on her face.
“Like I told you earlier, he just wanted to talk. He and I go way back. We’ve known each other for years.”
“That doesn’t explain why you drew your gun on him.”
“I can’t talk about that.”
She didn’t say anything.
After a few minutes, I said, “I’m sorry if that bothers you.”
“Look, Titus. I can certainly understand why I’m not supposed to question you about what you do and where you go. I get that. I really do. But maybe keeping secrets has become such a part of who you are, you’re no longer able to share your life with anyone.”
I thought about arguing that point with her, but I reconsidered.
For one thing, she might be right.
“Maybe that’s true, Nikki, but my personality has nothing to do with my refusal to tell you why I drew my weapon on Frank.”
She turned away from me and stared out the side window as if the countryside had suddenly gotten very interesting.
It was pitch black outside; she couldn’t see a thing.
A few minutes later, she shifted her attention back to me. “Are you saying Frank presented some kind of threat to you tonight?”
“Don’t press me on the details, Detective, but, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Did it have anything to do with the shooting at the Navy Yard?”
“We must have a different definition of what ‘don’t press me on the details’ means. I can’t—”
“I was just wondering, because when the subject of the Navy Yard incident came up at our orientation, I got the feeling Frank was upset with someone over at the CIA. Was that you?”
“I’m done with this subject, Nikki.”
She grew quiet once again, and I realized my response had come out sounding harsher than I’d intended.
Several minutes passed without either of us saying a word. Even so, the tension between us only seemed to increase.
I decided I had to break the silence, so I turned on the radio.
Ordinarily, my car radio was tuned to an all-news station, so I was surprised to hear music coming from one of those Oldies But Goodies stations when I switched it on. Seconds later, I realized Carlton must have changed the dial when he’d driven my Range Rover out to The Meadows.
I wasn’t bothered by him changing the channel. What bothered me were the lyrics blaring out of the speakers.
The song, “You Always Hurt The One You Love,” was all about hurt, heartache, and disappointing the one you love.
I immediately turned it off.
* * * *
A few minutes later, we arrived at The Waterwheel, and I pulled up next to Nikki’s car. We sat there a minute, and then I placed my hand on her shoulder and pointed down the lighted path toward the old gristmill.
“Before you leave, would you take a walk with me?”
She nodded, and we got out of the SUV and strolled down the brick walkway leading to the original gristmill, which had been built on the bank of Little Doe Creek.
The owners of the restaurant had remodeled the structure to accommodate a small gift shop and an ice cream store. Both establishments had kept the old-fashioned theme, complete with gas lighting, sales clerks in period clothing, and wrought-iron benches on the sidewalk outside.
The gift shop was already closed for the day, and the ice cream store looked as if it were about to close. However, there were still a few patrons sitting around outside.
I took Nikki further down the pathway, into the shadows beyond the gift shop, where we could have some privacy. As we sat down next to each other on a park bench, it was easy to understand why the owners had chosen to advertise their establishment as a romantic spot. The ambient lighting, plus the relaxing sound of water from the nearby creek flowing down the rungs of the restaurant’s signature waterwheel, made for an intimate setting.
I put my arm around Nikki and held her close for a few minutes.
Then, because I wanted to gauge her reaction to what I had to say, I pulled away and looked into her eyes.
After pushing a lock of hair away from her face, I said, “I’m leaving tomorrow, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
She bit down on her lip. “I’m sorry, Titus, I shouldn’t have—”
I gently placed my hand over her mouth. “No, let me finish.”
She nodded, and I took my hand away.
“I won’t lie to you, Nikki. This is a risky assignment, and it’s happening in a very dangerous country. If the mission doesn’t succeed, the consequences are enormous. That’s the reason I can’t leave tonight without telling you how I feel about you.”
Suddenly, her face looked flushed.
I was afraid she was about to say something, so I hurried on. “I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you.”
It was the first time I’d seen her smile since we’d driven away from The Meadows.
“I know for sure I’m in like with you,” I said.
She laughed. “In like?”
I smiled. “I’m sure you’d appreciate those sentiments if you knew me better. Liking people isn’t my strong suit.”
She leaned over and kissed me. “I’m in like with you too, Titus.”
“I know this isn’t easy for you, not just because of the work I do, but also because I’m not used to being open with people. I agree with what you said earlier. I’m not used to sharing my life with anyone.”
“I’m sorry I said that. I was just frustrated because there’s this barrier between us, and I keep wanting to knock it down.”
“I assure you, Nikki, if you pass your Quantico course, some of those walls will come tumbling down.”
“Like the walls of Jericho?”
“Exactly.”
“I believe the Bible says God had to perform a miracle to bring those walls down.”
I smiled. “You’re right, but if I recall the story correctly, he had the people do something every day. After that, he performed the miracle. So, Detective, here’s what I’m thinking. You do your part in class every day, and God will take care of the rest.”
“I promise I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.”
“You’ll have to promise me something as well.”
“I don’t make many promises.”
“Promise me when you’re away, especially during those times you’re required to take risks, you’ll remember I’m praying for you.”
I made her that promise, and then we sealed it with a kiss.
Actually, we sealed it with several kisses.
Chapter 31
Monday, June 29
My briefing on Operation Citadel Protection was scheduled to begin at ten o’clock, but I arrived in Conference Room A across the hall from RTM Center A at around nine-fifteen.
When I walked in, Duncan Fredrick, the scheduler from the DDO’s office, was in the process of setting up the conference room, and, after I joked with him for a few minutes about his son’s Little League team, he allowed me to read through the overnight cable traffic on his computer. Mainly, I was looking for any flash traffic from Santiago de Cuba.
Nothing came up. There were no messages from Mitchell.
Ten minutes before the meeting was due to begin, Carlton arrived. I was expecting him to comment on my early arrival, but he only nodded at me and didn’t say anything. Seconds later, when Robert Ira walked in the door, I immediately understood why.
