Cold Spite, page 16
part #1 of Cold Justice® - Most Wanted Series
Cas had been busy extricating himself from Mexico and his undercover role. He stretched his neck that was still stiff from his earlier rendezvous with the pavement.
“We both testified in court, although my identity was concealed. Scanlon was convicted and sentenced to seven years.” Cas met Novak’s gaze. “He was released two years early three weeks ago for good behavior.”
The intensity of the stares of his two HRT compatriots reminded him of cartel captains looking for a reason to gut you.
“Monday night, I became aware that the other undercover agent in that operation, Special Agent Delilah Quinn, was believed dead in a house fire in San Diego.”
“Wasn’t there another agent who died in San Diego also?” Novak leaned forward, eyes brimming with suppressed anger.
Cas nodded. “Agent Quinn’s partner on the Public Corruption Unit, David Gonzales, was shot and killed at his home.” The death of two agents had shaken the FBI community. Now this bombing incident had put everyone on high alert. “One of David Gonzales’s Confidential Informants was also found dead that morning. I don’t know the status of that investigation.”
“And you suspect this former Navy SEAL?” asked Novak.
Cas nodded.
“Why?”
“He threatened us during his arrest, which isn’t unusual. It also fits with his character despite what the prison service might believe.” Cas hated lying, even by omission, to a man who was a friend as well as his team leader. “Today, when I left the service to get some fresh air, I spotted a glint of reflection off a lens in the woods. At the same moment, I noticed an FBI ball cap that Ryan Sullivan had left on my dashboard was gone.” He looked up and met Novak’s piercing gaze. “I didn’t think. I ran. A second later, the bomb went off.” He held out his grazed hands. “Could have been a hell of a lot worse.”
“You’re damned lucky to be alive,” Novak growled.
“Where do you come into this?” Ackers asked Killion with ill-concealed contempt.
“I was involved in the operation six years ago—on the other side of the border. Behind the scenes, mainly, but I was able to feed Demarco enough information to keep him safe and also make him look like an asset to the cartel.”
“He saved my ass more times than I can count.” Cas still regretted being unable to warn some of the younger members of the cartel before the shit had gone down, but it hadn’t been possible without getting a bullet between the eyes or having to fight his way to the border. The young men who’d died in the shootout with the Mexican police haunted him. It had been another reason to get out of undercover work. Sometimes he liked the bad guys too much.
Novak’s and Ackers’ expressions both relaxed a little at the realization Killion had actually helped Cas and that his involvement in this was likely in the past and not the present. That wasn’t always the case with the CIA.
“Are you a target?” Novak asked the spook.
Killion pulled a face. “Doubtful. My role was never publicly revealed. I spent most of my time in a dark apartment in Tijuana with a DEA analyst who looked like Fidel Castro and smelled so strongly of hashish I was high every night.”
Ackers clasped his hands together. “Do you have any proof that it was this Navy SEAL who planted the bomb or killed these agents in San Diego?”
“No, sir, but attacks on myself and Agent Quinn just a few weeks after his release certainly begs the question.”
“What about the cartel? Could they be after revenge?” Ackers directed the question at the spook.
Killion pulled a face. “I doubt it.”
Cas explained. “Most of the people from back then are dead or in prison. The ones who aren’t? You know as well as I do they tend to avoid tangling with Feds on this side of the border. Plus, it seems odd to have waited all this time if they’d wanted their revenge—especially as Agent Quinn was right across the border in San Diego the whole time. Would have been easy enough to snatch her years ago.”
His stomach clenched at the thought. Delilah had dismissed his concerns. Told him she could look after herself. And he’d been so freaked out at even the thought of losing her he’d cut and run.
Like that would make it hurt any less.
Imbecile.
He heard people enter the building and then watched as a tall, thin guy who must be ASAC Greg Trainer walked in, followed by Lincoln Frazer, Alex Parker, Mallory Rooney and, to his surprise, Delilah.
She shot him a concerned look.
The fact she was worried about him sent a small thrill of satisfaction through him.
Novak’s gaze narrowed as he noticed the exchange.
Shit.
Killion moved to lean against the wall. Trainer introduced himself to Ackers and the others and then introduced everyone else, pausing as he indicated Delilah step forward. “And this is Special Agent Delilah Quinn.”
Acker’s eyes widened, and his mustache stretched over his tightened lips. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
She smiled faintly. “Hopefully, the person who tried to kill me on Monday night thinks so.”
“Who did they pull out of that fire?” Novak asked sharply.
Delilah folded her arms, and Cas saw her bottom lip quiver before she firmed it. “My best friend from college, Valerie Strauss.”
There was a moment of quiet to acknowledge the loss.
“You believe it’s this Scanlon fellow?” said Ackers.
“I do.” She held his boss’s gaze. “Now we just have to prove it.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Delilah took a seat on the opposite side of the room from Demarco as ASAC Trainer outlined what was happening regarding the investigation into the explosion that had blown Cas’s truck into a thousand different component pieces.
She was so grateful to Alex Parker and Mallory Rooney who’d come to get her from the house. Otherwise, she’d have lost her mind.
There was a scrape on Demarco’s chin, and he winced as he stretched out his neck, but he looked surprisingly unscathed, considering. Considering someone had tried to blow him up.
She shivered as the knowledge rolled around inside her that by rights, they should both be dead.
Instead, he was startlingly and vividly alive.
He looked ridiculously good in a ubiquitous black T-shirt and black tactical pants. Black hair tousled. Mouth pressed into a habitual faint smile that always made him look like he knew something you didn’t. He was more heavily muscled than he used to be, and she didn’t like the fact her body still responded to him like a compass needle seeking magnetic north.
She forced her attention away from him. She was glad to take this on record and for a task force to be set up. She just hoped they let her work the case. And mooning over an ex-boyfriend who’d dumped her five years ago was not gonna help her achieve her goals. It never had.
“Does Scanlon know you survived?”
“Oh, yeah, he knows.” Demarco leaned back in his chair. “Parker and I gave chase through the woods, but the sonofabitch had enough of a head start to get away.”
How would that effect the ex-con’s plans? What would his Plan B involve?
“Evidence Recovery Teams are working the crime scene. TEDAC agents are already en route from Alabama.” Experts from the government’s Terrorist Explosive Device Analytical Center knew everything there was to know about IEDs.
“You might want to have a demolition expert from the SEAL teams take a look,” Demarco suggested. “Especially if you can find who specifically trained Scanlon in his craft.”
That a man the US Navy had trained was now running around killing people would not be a good look for anyone.
ASAC Trainer continued without acknowledging Demarco’s comment. “We believe at this point that the detonator was probably a cell phone. Correct?” Trainer looked at Gold Team leader, Payne Novak, who sat next to Demarco. Trainer’s expression was decidedly unfriendly whenever he looked in her direction.
Great.
Maybe it was time to launch the Delilah Quinn fan club. Only her mother would join.
Novak nodded. “It’s much more complicated and time consuming to set up a pressure trigger or something connected to the ignition or transmission. Considering how many Hostage Rescue Team members were in close proximity to Demarco’s truck this morning, I doubt the bomber would risk spending longer than absolutely necessary to set up the bomb.”
“Plus, he wanted to press that button and blow me up himself,” Cas said confidently. “He’d want to personally obliterate me.”
Delilah had to physically hold herself still at the imagery his words evoked and the memory of hearing the explosion over the phone.
“Why not plant it on your truck outside your apartment?” Trainer stroked his chin. “Surely less Feds around there?”
Demarco rolled his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “Either he didn’t know where I lived or he knew that my building is full of FBI and US Marines, many of whom have windows overlooking the parking lot.” He shifted in his seat.
Delilah spotted the wince he tried to hide. He was hurt more than he was letting on.
“If I had to guess, I’d say the former. I’m not that easy to find, and the chances of anyone following me or planting a tracker without me or one of the base guards noticing are slim to none.”
It hit Delilah all over again. How close Demarco had come to being killed today. If she’d died on Monday night, there was a very good chance he wouldn’t have known about Scanlon’s release and wouldn’t have been on guard. He’d be dead too. Contacting him had saved his life, and as much as he’d hurt her all those years ago, the idea of anything bad happening to him tore her up inside.
“But I suspect he had help. A guy just out of prison would struggle to pull off two attempted assassinations on opposite sides of the country without assistance,” Demarco said.
“If it’s him,” Novak argued. “Two disparate incidents using different weapons and tactics? The only reason we suspect they are related is the tenuous connection to an old op.”
“If it’s so unlikely, why are we even here?” Delilah demanded hotly.
“Because,” Greg Trainer sliced through the sudden tension, “the director insisted. And she also insisted we keep your role in this and the fact you’re not dead as believed by your colleagues, quiet. Must be nice to have friends in high places.”
“Why would she do that?” Delilah asked in confusion. “I don’t know the new director.”
“But your father does, doesn’t he?”
Her eyes widened. No way had her father pulled any strings.
“I may have, hmm.” Killion cleared his throat enough to get everyone’s attention. “Chatted with the director on the phone earlier—before the service actually. Turns out Delilah’s father and her father—who happened to be my station chief when I was in Islamabad—are good friends. I also happened to speak with him yesterday.”
Delilah felt her eyes bug as the others refused to meet her gaze. Killion had used his and her connections to get this team put together. It was what she’d hoped for, but inwardly she reviled the nepotism. The other part of her was extremely grateful she wasn’t in handcuffs and out of a career—yet.
“We need to figure out if Scanlon has help and if so, who else is involved,” Demarco interrupted the awkward silence and pulled the attention away from her, “and if there are any other targets this man is likely to go after. Who were the judges or lawyers involved in the case, the superior officers who had him thrown out of the Navy—”
“He has a kid and an ex-wife, don’t forget. I think he’ll go after the wife.” She cleared her throat. “I spoke with her yesterday to make sure she knew he was out of prison. She said Scanlon requested supervised visitation rights and she’d agreed. He was supposed to meet his kid yesterday afternoon, but I don’t know any of the details.”
Greg Trainer stared at her silently for a long moment. She clenched her hands in her lap and prayed he didn’t throw her off the investigation. Regardless of what the director said, Trainer could sideline her to duties so meaningless she may as well be on a beach in Florida. As appealing as a vacation sounded, she needed to help catch this bastard before he hurt anyone else.
“The first thing we need to establish is whether or not Demarco was the target of the bomb or if this was an attack on HRT or the FBI in general. Given his statement, it seems likely that Operator Demarco was the target, but we need to confirm.” Trainer held up his hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “However, if we assume Demarco was the target we need to figure out how the bomber knew what Demarco was driving and how the bomber knew he’d be at this memorial service today.” Trainer emphasized using the term “bomber” rather than using Scanlon’s name.
Which was the correct way to run an investigation. Establish the facts via evidence not blindly follow an eyewitness’s possibly biased opinion.
But she knew what she knew.
She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it when Trainer shot her another look.
“In the meantime, I’ll reach out to the San Diego Field Office and see where they’re at. See if I can bring in one of their case agents onto our team and have them sworn to secrecy to protect the fact Agent Quinn is alive.”
She blew out a breath. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I have my orders.” Trainer’s lip curled. No one liked to be manipulated. “And, with his permission, we’ll use Mr. Parker’s company to see if he or his team can come up with anything that suggests Joseph Scanlon was anywhere near either crime when they occurred—or if we can rule him out as a dead end in our investigation.”
“Scanlon’s only been out for three weeks, and during that time he presumably had to set up his new civilian life.” The older senior HRT operator with a thick mustache pointed out. “It’s a pretty complex plan you two are suggesting he came up with in a short amount of time.”
“He might have only just gotten out of prison, but he’s had years to plan this.” Delilah straightened the cuffs of her jacket, thankful for her shopping trip yesterday. At least she looked the part. “He has enough connections that they could have been doing some basic reconnaissance ahead of time. Like keeping tabs on where we lived and where the ex-wife moved to.”
“I have the name of two of his friends still on the SEAL teams,” Demarco offered. “Might be worth finding out whether or not they are OCONUS.”
Trainer frowned. “We have to be very careful to find enough evidence to justifiably investigate active-duty military personnel. NCIS are gonna want in on that. So far, we have nothing more substantial than a hunch that Scanlon is involved.”
“I don’t know anyone else who wants to blow me up.” Demarco’s tone was dry.
Trainer sent Demarco a look. “Be that as it may, we have to prove it. And we have to prove it quickly enough to prevent more attacks on potential victims and not miss any leads that point in other directions, while providing clear motivation as to why we took the investigative decisions we did—especially when news of Agent Quinn’s deception comes to light.”
“We can surely find evidence Scanlon was in the vicinity, here today and in San Diego Monday night,” Delilah pushed.
“Unfortunately…” Alex Parker glanced up from his laptop on the desk. “That’s going to be hard to do when we have him on record as meeting with his child under the supervision of a social worker yesterday in Washington State, and there’s no record of him on any commercial flights except to and from Washington State.”
Demarco swore.
Trainer raised his brows in fake surprise.
“Well, I was in San Diego last night and look at me sitting here today,” Delilah argued. “There are no records of me being on a commercial flight either.”
“Scanlon doesn’t have your connections.” Trainer put his hands on his hips.
“He has plenty of connections.” Delilah was done biting her tongue. “And I didn’t ask anyone to pull strings for me, sir.”
Trainer tilted his head to one side. “So you’ll be fine with sitting this out while we investigate your attempted murder?”
She scowled. “What’s the point in me sitting around doing nothing while that bastard waltzes around plotting more death and destruction?”
“That’s a no then?” Trainer looked smug.
“Give her a break. It’s been a rough few days.” Demarco was on his feet.
“Said the man who was blown up a couple of hours ago,” Novak put in.
Trainer pursed his lips. “Agent Quinn left not one, but two crime scenes. Then let her colleagues in her field office believe she’s dead. Forgive me if I’m not convinced she’s going to be a solid team player on this.”
“It’s the only way I could think of to give myself some advantage over the person who tried to kill me.” Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of Val and David, but she blinked them away. No way would she be anything less than professional in this room full of her peers. “I needed time to think.”
Which didn’t prove her innocence.
“You know procedure better than that. Even if he did try to kill you, why would this Scanlon fellow kill Agent Gonzales and this CI of his?” Trainer pushed.
Dammit.
She hadn’t told them about the gun.
“I believe he was trying to set me up for David’s murder. I think he decided to complicate the investigation and send the investigative team off in the wrong direction by also murdering Clarence Carpenter, but I have no proof of that.”
“So more speculation. How exactly did he set you up for Agent Gonzales’ murder?” Trainer looked skeptical.
Delilah glanced at Demarco as she made her decision. His gaze narrowed. Jaw tightened. She reached into her bag and pulled out the plastic bag containing her Glock 23 and the spent bullet casing and placed it on the table. “Because I found this at Agent Gonzales’ house near his body.” She tried to suppress the emotions that went with the words.
