“Then
you can help me.”
Later that day Annabelle walked into the second hotel from the list provided by Alex. She approached the front desk and discreetly flashed her phony FBI credentials to the clerk there.
“What is this about?” he said nervously.
“Potentially a big problem for your hotel, but we might be able to work around that if you cooperate. I’ve got a strike team standing by outside.”
The astonished clerk immediately looked over Annabelle’s shoulder.
“You can’t see them,” she said. “That would sort of give it away, wouldn’t it?”
“I think I should get my supervisor,” the clerk said nervously.
“No, I think you should stand right here and answer my questions, William,” she said quietly, eyeing his nametag.
“What sort of questions?”
“Do you have a guest staying here named Jerry Bagger?”
“I can’t possibly give out that sort of information. It’s confidential.”
“All right, I’ll guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Annabelle took a small walkie-talkie from her pocket that she’d purchased from a sporting goods store. “Bravo One to X-Ray strike team. Are you in position to crash all entry points? Affirmative. Squad leader, rules of engagement, no gunfire unless absolutely necessary. Repeat, unless absolutely necessary. There’s potential collateral damage throughout the lobby.”
“What is this, some sort of joke?” the clerk snapped.
On a cue from Annabelle, Alex, who’d been standing behind a pillar in the lobby, walked over. The tall agent looked down at the clerk.
He held out his Secret Service creds and showed the badge and gun on his belt. “Is there a problem?”
The clerk pointed at Annabelle. “She said she’s with the FBI and she’s looking for some guy and they’re going to send a strike something-or-other.”
Alex leaned down close in to the shorter man. “It’s not a strike something-or-other. It’s called a strike team. And I’m heading it up. We’re part of a joint antiterrorist unit. I’ve got twenty-five agents in heavy Kevlar body armor with MP-5 submachine guns ready to bust into this place because this ‘some guy’ is number two on our most wanted list right behind Osama. I’ve been after this ‘some guy’ for two years of my life, and I’m not about to let a little prick like you screw it up. So you either get on your computer and tell us if he’s here, or your ass will be the first one I arrest for obstruction.”
“Holy shit!” the clerk exclaimed. “You can do that?”
“With a smile on my face.”
Alex turned to Annabelle and he nodded. “Proceed, Agent Hunter.”
Annabelle took a sheaf of papers from her pocket. “We have a search and arrest warrant for Mr. Bagger and his associates.” She eyed the clerk sternly. “We don’t like putting innocent people in harm’s way, William, but this Bagger is a killer, into drugs, arms dealing, every bad thing you can think of. But if you cooperate we can put a tail on him and take the bastard outside the hotel. I think your supervisor would probably approve of that.”
William stared at her for a few moments and then started clicking on his computer. “We don’t have a Bagger listed,” he said in a shaky voice.
“I would be astonished if he used his real name.” Annabelle described Bagger to him in detail. “He’d always come and go with a bunch of muscle.”
Alex added, “I would think a guy like that would tend to stick out here, am I right?”
William nodded. “He is staying here, under the name Frank Walters. He has the best suite in the hotel. Wonderful views of the White House.”
“I’m sure. Okay, thanks for the assist, William. But don’t say a word to anyone. You understand me?”
“Absolutely, best of luck, Officer,” he said weakly.
Alex nodded, gave him a hard slap on the arm and left with Annabelle.
Outside Alex called in a team to cover the hotel. Now where Bagger went, so would they.
As they were leaving in Alex’s car Annabelle said, “You are quick on your feet. That was great in there.”
“Coming from you that’s a real compliment. So now what?”
“So now we pull the trigger.”
CHAPTER 73
FINN, LESYA AND STONE just stared at each other for a long time. Then Lesya uttered a curse and slowly rose from her chair. She gripped a small wooden box on her nightstand and looked ready to hurl it at Stone’s head. “John Carr,” she spat out. “You? Here? You murderer.”
Stone turned to Finn. “A man was eavesdropping on you both. From his expression he understood some or all of what he heard. He ran out of here. I saw the room he originally came out of. I ‘accidentally’ looked in that room. There was another man in there keeping watch over a patient.”
Finn hadn’t moved a muscle. “Who is the man?”
“At the CIA we used to call them crypt keepers. An agent with a serious brain injury who might reveal secrets is watched over by other agents until the person either dies or recovers. I believe that’s what’s going on here.”
“The CIA here?” Lesya hissed, an incredulous expression on her face.
“And the other man was also a crypt keeper presumably going off duty. He overheard us and he understood what we were saying?” Finn said slowly.
“The language you were speaking provides a good cover. Almost no one would understand any of it.”
“But you did?” Finn said.
Stone nodded. “Language skills came with the territory. And that’s why we have to leave. Now.”
Finn glanced at his mother, who was still staring at Stone with loathing. “And why should we trust you? You could be leading us right into a trap.”
“That’s right,” Lesya said. “A trap. Just like they did to your father.”
“If that were my intent I would simply have waited until you left here,” Stone said, indicating Finn. “And shot you on your way back to the airport. There’s a stretch of woods in between that’s particularly convenient. As for your mother here, this place is not well guarded. An unlocked door, a pillow, a brief struggle.” He shrugged. “And if I worked with the CIA I wouldn’t have come here and warned you. I would’ve just let them take you.”
“How did you know to even come here?” Finn said.
“I followed you from Washington. I saw you outside Senator Simpson’s office building this morning. You seemed a bit suspicious-looking.”
“I didn’t think I was that obvious.”
“You weren’t. I’ve just been trained how to look.”
“And why were you at Simpson’s office?”
“Because a man told me, against his will, that the matter of Rayfield Solomon had become a priority for the CIA again.”
“And why is that?” Finn said warily.