“You were the first person she asked for, Ian. Pete and Jamie, after you change the dressing, get some rest. I will hang the second unit of blood and stay with Cassie.”
Ian moved to wrap his arms around his mother, “I’m sorry, Mom, I should have called you sooner.”
* * *
Ian’s phone beeped while he sat at the pool house table. He snuck out onto the patio in stealth mode. “Mia, what have you got?”
“I’m heading toward Market Street with a tail. Two white males, white Honda Accord. California plate: six, Lincoln, King, Ida, two-four-nine.”
“Tony, you there?” Ian turned the discussion into a three-way call.
“Nice plan, Ian,” Tony said. “Mia, head west. We’ll pick them up on Thirty-Third. Turn right on Broadway.”
“Roger that. I have it from Broadway. I’m about seven minutes out. Ian, I spoke with the cemetery business manager. A well-dressed bald man stopped by yesterday afternoon with medical examiner credentials. The manager explained he needed a court order to exhume the baby. He knows the baby is still interred. I get the feeling this is unrelated to the other attempt. Whoever he is, he’s good. He was a ghost. The cameras picked up nothing. The tapes from the first attempt were recorded over. Is everything okay there?”
“Mia, we’ll talk when you get to home base. Tony, she’s all yours.”
Before Tony disconnected, he said, “I’ll get a sketch artist out there, and we’ll take a second look at the security cameras.”
“Pull traffic and ATM cameras around the cemetery.”
“In progress,” Tony replied.
Ian headed up to the main house to meet with the FBI director and Cassie’s bureau chief before Wilds arrived.
* * *
Greg Wilds pulled up to the main house at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Kieran met him at the front door and escorted him to the study where Ian sat waiting.
“Where is she?” Wilds demanded, turning on his heel when Kieran blocked his retreat. “I’m not playing your games, Chase. Where is Cassie Modine?”
Kieran shoved him toward a chair. “Sit. You are in no position to demand anything. We need to talk first.”
Greg Wilds sat while Kieran remained immovable at the door, and Ian moved to the seat opposite Wilds. “We have some questions first.” Ian played a snippet of the recording from the waiting room.
Wilds’ lip curled in a snarl. “Son of a bitch. You bugged us. You can’t use that recording.”
“Explain.” Ian played some of the other sordid bits from the com tapes.
“I don’t owe you any explanation. How I deal with my team is my business.”
“Using sexual harassment and abuse as a motivator? Tell me about your visit to her place.”
“What did the ice princess say? She says I touched her?”
“And if she did?” Kieran demanded.
“I’d call her a liar. No one will take her word over mine. Besides, who would be interested in that? She’s chewed on like an old bone.”
Ian clenched his jaw to hold on to his last strand of calm. He knew Cassie’s scars were only visible without clothing. “Do you remember what I told you years ago over the body of a dead Marine? Your arrogance would be your downfall. Director Samuels and Paul Yates will be meeting us in half an hour to speak with you. We have some time to fill. Tell me about the op. How did you put her in that difficult position?”
“None of us knew she would get in trouble taking a pee. It was supposed to be a typical BS rubber chicken dinner. No muss, no fuss. Who the hell knew Ames was psychotic?”
“I want to hear about the op itself. Not Ames,” Kieran said.
“Fine. Three weeks before the dinner, Bynum’s camp received a credible threat. He balked at the suggested extra security. The decision was made to stay close to the senator. The analysts said the best marks to give up their seats were the Bynum kid and his girlfriend. Rumor has it the kid has daddy issues. We created an offer for Phyllis Wilson: a couple’s weekend at some hot spa hotel. As the ticket holder, we even arranged for the $100,000 ticket refund.”
Ian’s expression remained unchanged. The same amount for the Maddox transfer.
