Evan stood. “We’ll be in touch as soon as the warrant is available.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be available.”
“No problem,” Kiley said calmly. “We can serve the warrant to your guards if we have to.”
She marched toward the door, and Evan followed. The guard was waiting right outside to escort them out of the building and watch them as they headed to the parking lot.
Kiley glanced over her shoulder at Evan. “I don’t trust Malouf. What about you?”
“No. He was more than forthcoming about basic shipping information but tight-lipped on internal processes.” Evan clicked his key fob to unlock the Tahoe’s doors. “I don’t know if the historical connection to Nuri as-Said means anything, but I’ll get an analyst started on reviewing it.”
Kiley flashed her gaze to him. “You think there’ll be a terrorist connection?”
He opened her door. “Don’t you?”
“I do,” she said. “I really do.”
CHAPTER 9
NATHANIELSTADLER,supervisory special agent in charge, a tall gangly man wearing an olive-green suit, met Kiley and Evan at the door of the satellite office called a resident agency by the FBI. The small office was located in a high-rise in downtown Tacoma and had a hint of mustiness about it.
Kiley noticed how the pair of agents working on a Sunday tracked her movements as she followed Stadler through the bullpen filled with old desks and well-used chairs. She knew they had questions about their team, and thankfully she’d showered and changed clothes last night, because terrorists didn’t care about giving her or anyone else on the team time for personal hygiene and looking their best.
Stadler stopped near a conference room—the RED team’s home for the foreseeable future—and pointed at the door. Mack or Sean would have already told Stadler the room was off-limits. By remaining outside, he was respecting the privacy of their investigation.
“IT has the computers and logins set up so you can access our network,” Stadler said, scratching a cleanly shaved jaw. “Agent Nichols has the information. You need anything, just ask. Bowers knows where my office is located.”
“Thank you,” Kiley said.
He nodded and strode away.
Kiley watched him leave. “I’m impressed he isn’t trying to insert himself into the investigation. Small offices like this onearen’t likely to see this kind of action, and many supervisors would push to get involved.”
“He wants to move up fast and has the political smarts to make that happen. Which means leaving this alone.”
“You know how bad I am at politics.” Kiley mocked a shudder.
“Yeah, you’d rather tell things as they are. Probably a good thing you’re on a hotshot team so your straight-shooting doesn’t get you in trouble.”
“True. Though I do admire people who can play the game. Sean’s good at it, which is why he often takes lead on our investigations.”
“So how did you get lead on this one then?”
“We vote as a team, but ultimately it’s Eisenhower’s decision. Because of losing Firuzeh, I asked for lead and the others supported me.”
Evan nodded, and a moment of understanding passed between them. Acutely aware of him, she quickly brushed past him into the room with drab beige walls before she said or did something stupid. She greeted the others seated at the long table as Evan sat down behind one of the provided laptops. She looked down the table at the tote holding Firuzeh’s items and wanted to get to work on processing them, but as team leader she needed to set priorities. And at the moment, the shipping container took precedence over Firuzeh’s murder.
Kiley set down her backpack and quickly brought the team up to speed on their interviews with Gadsden and Malouf. “I’ll get warrant requests going, and then we’ll do a status update and brainstorm possible targets. DHS will be clamoring for a threat assessment soon. I want to be ready to advise them on our country’s threat level.”
Threat assessment. Threat level.She couldn’t even believe those words were coming from her mouth. Her, Kiley Dawson, an average person from Buffalo, New York, growing up in a working-class neighborhood, having a say in the country’sthreat level.Unbelievable. As was the sheer magnitude of this investigation and the grim reality that if she made one mistake—one slipup—millions of people could be in danger.
She reached for a laptop, and her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten much of anything for twenty-four hours.Tough.Getting warrants issued was her priority. Hunger could wait.
Mack put his hand over hers, stopping her from opening the computer. “We had lunch brought in. Sandwiches are in the break room refrigerator. You and Evan go eat. I’ll get the warrants started.”
She couldn’t waste time. “You don’t know the details.”
“I know enough to fill in the forms while you scarf down a sandwich. Then you can come back and finish them up.”
