Convicted (8 page)

“Wait!”—Brent faced his
best friend’s
dark eyes—it was now or never—“That early retirement—firing—whatever you want to call it—it’s still on the table, and you should know, I’m seriously considering it. I know too much shit to keep saving your ass.”

“You know too much
shit
to ever consider walking away. It’s not an option.” Tony turned toward one of the bedrooms. Before he shut the door he added, “I’m not accepting your offer. Good night.”

It was after midnight when the knock came to the door. It took multiple raps before anyone from within the suite budged. Brent was the first to make it to the door. He’d spent most of the day with federal officers. It didn’t take a genius to figure that the two men in dark suits were among those ranks.

“We’re looking for Anthony Rawlings.”

Before Brent could answer, Tony came up behind him. “I’m Anthony Rawlings. What the hell do you want at this time of night?”

The two officers displayed their badges and credentials. “Mr. Rawlings, may we enter?”

The last thing Tony wanted was a discussion with the FBI held in the hotel’s hallway. He and Brent took a step back allowing the agents to enter the suite.

Tony’s anger temporarily faded into concern. “Is this regarding Claire? Do you have new information?”

“There’s
more
information.” The men in dark suits went on to explain the threats upon Tony’s life have been verified and confirmed. The information Ms. Nichols disclosed was only the beginning. The Bureau believes it’s in everyone’s best interest to get Tony home, safe and sound, where his security team can keep him from harm.

They also explained that Tony’s activity could be currently monitored by the perpetrator and insisted Brent remain in Boston. They emphasized that in the morning Brent needed to go to the FBI office and complete legal documents regarding this transfer. Of course, then Brent and Tony would be able to meet up in Iowa tomorrow after Brent finished all the legalities.

Tony considered their concerns. Looking toward Brent, he shrugged. Honestly, he wanted to be home. It made more sense than sleeping in a hotel room. “Give me a minute to gather my things.”

As he left with the agents, Tony told Brent, “I’ll talk with you more when you get back to Iowa. Come straight to the house once you land.”

Brent agreed and watched as Tony left with the two plain-clothed agents. The feeling of foreboding lingered in Brent’s mind. He considered calling Courtney, but it was nearly 2:00 AM. She didn’t need to lose sleep just because his mind was racing. Finally, Brent fell into a restless sleep.

A mere four hours later, Brent rolled toward the vibrating phone echoing on the hard surface of the night stand. Before he could answer the call, his attention went to the loud pounding on the suite door.

Pulling on his slacks, he read the unknown number, rejected the call and pushed the phone into his pocket. In a still sleep deprived haze, Brent made his way toward the loud banging. This time, when he opened the door, Brent recognized at least one of the agents. “Agent Jackson, couldn’t you wait until I came to the office this morning?”

“So, Mr. Simmons, you were planning on coming to the FBI office today?”

“Yes, that’s what I was told.”

“And, what about Mr. Rawlings? Was he planning on coming too?”

Brent stepped back and allowed the two men entry. “He would, but now—”

“Now”—Agent Jackson completed Brent’s sentence—“Now your client is gone, disappearing in the middle of the night?”

“No.” Brent shut the door. “Well, yes—because he left with your agents.” When the FBI remained silent and exchanged quizzical looks, Brent added, “The men from your office who came here last night. He left with them.”

“I assure you, we didn’t send agents here last night.”

“What?” Brent ran his hands through his bed-messed hair, struggling with the new information.
Could Claire’s threat have been real? Did someone take Tony?

“Mr. Simmons”—Brent focused as he attempted to subdue his impending fear—“A plane left Boston airspace, a private plane, contracted by one Anthony Rawlings. That same plane made an emergency landing in the Appalachian Mountains approximately an hour ago. No survivors were found.”

Brent collapsed onto the sofa. “As in
dead
?” The words hurt exiting his lips. Yes, there were times he hated Tony for what he’d done or said—that didn’t change the fact—the controlling asshole was his best friend.

“No, sir, as in
missing
. The plane was empty. A FBI forensics’ team is investigating. So far, no signs of struggle or injury have been found and”—Agent Jackson emphasized—“no signs of
anyone
.”

“But...the FBI took him. I saw their credentials and badges.”

“Do you remember the names of these agents?”

Brent shook his head. “No, it was late. Jesus... I didn’t really look. I assumed it was legitimate. I don’t remember.”

“Mr. Simmons, the FBI didn’t come here last night.”

“What does this mean?”

“For right now, it means you’re coming back with us to the Bureau. We’re going to review hotel footage and discuss your late night visitors.”

Sitting in the familiar office of SAC of the San Francisco FBI, Agent Baldwin listened attentively to his supervisor. “Anthony Rawlings was in FBI custody. Now he isn’t.”

“I’m sorry...what do you mean
he isn’t
?”

“Due to persuasion from unnamed political sources, Agent Easton, SAC in Boston, was unable to keep him detained.”

Harry’s blood boiled. “So, sir...” Although, well engrained, the title left a bad taste on his tongue. “You’re saying—
he
did it again? Anthony Rawlings played his political cards, flashed a little money, and got himself out of FBI custody?”

“Agent, despite the Deputy Director’s request, you clearly aren’t interested in pursuing your career in the service of—”

“I apologize. Sir, please go on. Claire Nichols. Where is she?”

“The last direct communication was from Geneva, Switzerland. That was over a week ago. We have local field agents who’ve confirmed her departure from Switzerland.”

“She left..? Where did she go?”

“This is a briefing son—I inform; you listen. Agent Baldwin, you seem to have forgotten the protocol. If you choose to honor the Deputy Director’s request and assist in this ongoing investigation—your duty is to say,
Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
If that duty is too difficult for you to fulfill, I’ll gladly inform our director, and your duties can be reassigned.”

Harry bit his tongue. Working undercover had a way of removing the bureau formalities from an agent’s vocabulary. Harry had enough problems with his future in the service of the FBI; he didn’t need to add insubordination to the list. Sitting taller, Harry said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll do whatever the bureau wants me to do.”

“The bureau wants you to travel to Italy. We have two possible sightings of Ms. Nichols—one in Venice—the other in Rome. We have pictures of the woman suspected of being Ms. Nichols. You’ll see she’s always in disguise.” SAC Williams pointed toward a large screen on the wall of his office. Still pictures projected. Some were grainy, as if taken from a distance and enlarged. Others were much more clear and detailed. Harry studied the woman in each photograph. The last time he’d seen Claire, in person, was in June. That was four months ago. The woman in question could be pregnant, or just heavy. Her hair color and length varied from photo to photo, yet there was something about her—in a few of the photos—when she smiled—Harry’s chest tightened.

“Sir, I believe that
is
Ms. Nichols.”

“This man has been seen with her on numerous occasions. Can you identify him?”

Repeated pictures projected, again with varied quality. “Most of these pictures don’t show his face. It’s like he knows to keep it away from cameras.” The man’s hair color varied, and he often wore a hat. “I’m sure it isn’t Anthony Rawlings, sir”—Harry studied the pictures closer—“He’s familiar. Are they believed to be
together
?” The way he emphasized the last word made his meaning clear.

SAC Williams’ eyes narrowed. “It appears so. Ms. Nichols told the Iowa City prosecutor that she left the home of Mr. Rawlings of her own free will, and that she feared for the safety of her and her unborn child. She emphasized that the threat wasn’t from Mr. Rawlings. Although you are aware, their relationship has had its perilous moments.”

“Yes, sir. Ms. Nichols told me about that herself.”

“She also informed Evergreen that she believed Mr. Rawlings is still in danger.”

Harry shifted his footing ever so slightly.

“I’ll ask this one more time, can you reenter this case with a sense of impartiality? Our assignment is multifaceted. Agent Nichols was one of us. Though not publicly disclosed—his death is still an open case. The ME found traces of a rare toxin in his blood, actaea pachypoda, more commonly referred to as doll’s eyes. This plant toxin has a sedative effect on the cardiac muscle tissue and can cause cardiac arrest. That same toxin has been identified in very few other deaths. A reoccurring denominator seems to be Mr. Rawlings or should I say
Rawls
. After years of nothing, it was Ms. Nichols’s research and persistence that pulled these cases together. Upon further investigation, actaea pachypoda was also found in Mr. Rawlings’ blood when he was poisoned in 2012. Interestingly, it was the first time it has been identified in a nonlethal dose.”

Harry wanted to say, “That’s too bad”—however, he wisely chose to remain silent.

SAC Williams continued, “Honestly, it doesn’t come up in a normal toxicology screen and could easily be missed. Not all cases lead to Mr. Rawlings directly. Since other drugs indicating poisoning were found in Mr. Rawlings’ 2012 toxicology report, this toxin wasn’t initially discovered. Thankfully, in criminal cases such as Mr. Rawlings’ attempted murder, trace evidence is retained. When his blood was retested, the toxin was discovered. If it were left up to those idiots in Iowa, it would’ve never been found. We have no way of knowing how many other cases have been missed.”

“May I see the other names and case files which have been identified?”

“Yes, agent, you’ll be leaving today for Venice. A debriefing file will accompany you on that trip. Familiarize yourself with it.”

“If I locate Ms. Nichols, am I to maintain the ex-boyfriend from SiJo persona?”

“For the time being, yes. She trusted you. That’s your role again, to regain her trust. As I said, this case is multifaceted. Ms. Nichols believes a significant threat exists—a threat which was severe enough to cause her to leave the country. Although she remains unaware, Ms. Nichols is our informant. We need her safe. Mr. Rawlings is an influential man with many connections. For the time being, it’s in the best interest of many people for him to remain hidden and safe. With the political and financial climate as it is, the collapse of Rawlings Industries could have global financial repercussions. That’s not something the prominent U.S. government officials want to see at this time. After his location is confirmed, it’s been determined to allow him to stay hidden. Actually, that was the bureau’s plan. I can’t say I agree with the Boston office’s tactics. I think they should’ve been straight with him all along, but it wasn’t my call. Now, we have to clean up their mess.”

“What if the evidence points back to Mr. Rawlings?”

“If it does, we bring him in.”

Externally, Harry maintained his neutral expression; internally he smiled from ear to ear.
Bring him in—
yes, Harry liked the way that sounded. He wanted to be the person placing Rawlings’ wrists in cuffs—and he didn’t mean the thousand dollar, diamond studded kind. Harry’s need for retaliation wasn’t solely based on what he did to Claire, although admittedly it was a predominating factor. No, Harry’s incentive stemmed from the implication of so many other criminal activities. Rawlings hadn’t only taken Claire’s life, but he’d also, potentially—theoretically, hurt countless others—taking and destroying lives at will. Yes, Harry wanted to see Anthony Rawlings behind bars more than he wanted anything else. Maybe, just maybe, when Rawlings’ crimes were brought to light Claire would see the truth. Oh, there was no doubt that when Claire learned that Harry’s presence in Palo Alto was
not
coincidental—that he also lied to her, she’d be upset, but lying for good was much better than killing, beating, raping...it twisted Harry’s stomach to think how long the list of Rawlings’ sins could possibly be.