Counterfeit Road (20 page)

Inside the Blue Dragon was an open courtyard, and chairs, tables, a stage, and two bars. It was dusk. There were drinkers but he didn’t see Shay, but the hostess saw him looking around and came over to help.

‘Maybe he’s out on the back patio,’ she said.

‘Where’s that?’

She pointed and Raveneau moved to the bar closest to it. He ordered a dark rum and extra ice and paid as he stirred the ice. Then he picked up the drink and walked out on to the back patio.

THIRTY-SEVEN

T
om Casey turned and smiled as if delighted by the coincidence. He glanced at Raveneau’s drink.

‘Glad to see that you’ve discovered the best bar on the North Kohala coast. You must be a pretty damn good detective. You know, it’s funny, I could have sworn you said you were flying home today.’

Raveneau turned to Shay. ‘Before you leave I’d like to talk with you a few minutes.’

‘You’re a serious guy, Inspector,’ Casey said, ‘but you may have misunderstood about my friend here. You asked for people who knew AK and I tried to help you. I wasn’t providing you a list of suspects.’ Casey pulled a chair out. ‘Sit with us, ask your questions.’

‘I’d rather have that conversation one on one.’

‘Suit yourself. We’re here to catch up and have some food. You’re welcome to join us if you change your mind. What are you going to do otherwise, sit at the bar? Come on, Inspector, you’re in Hawaii holding a drink. Sit here in the open air. There’s nothing I’d like more than to see you find whoever killed AK and put a bullet in them. If you make real progress that might even keep me from trying to get you fired.’

‘I’m going to return a couple of calls but before you leave, Lieutenant, I’d like to talk with you.’

‘We may be awhile,’ Casey said, and Raveneau moved inside. He took a table in the open courtyard and returned Goya’s call. Goya started to tell him about going to visit Govich.

‘Ben, the reason he hasn’t called you is he’s not well. His sister was there. She’s been staying with him. She said he had a small stroke about four months ago, and they think he’s had another in the past week. She’s taking him to his doctor today. He was confused when I brought up the Canadians. He couldn’t even remember them. He got frustrated when he couldn’t track what I was asking him. You remember I told you we learned they didn’t eat at a restaurant they told us they had.’

‘It’s in the murder files.’

It was in there and it was a dead-end detail unless there was something new to go with it. Barbara Haney explained it as their frustration at being held at the police station and missing a dinner reservation.

‘Ed stared off into space as I asked him about that. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his sister was hovering over him trying to answer for him. She said he couldn’t find his keys yesterday. When you get to my age you hear that one a lot and let me tell you, brother, it doesn’t mean good things.’

‘I’m sorry for Ed, and let’s not bother him any more. It doesn’t sound like he’s going to be able to help us.’

‘I should have gotten a call when he had the first stroke.’

Goya was upset by the changes he’d seen in his former partner and Raveneau didn’t question him about Marlin Thames or anything else. He listened and after he was off the phone moved with his drink back to the corner of the bar where he was visible to Shay. He answered emails. He ordered shrimp and shitake egg rolls with dragon dipping sauce and then got a text from Coe.

‘Call me,’ it read.

Raveneau told the bartender he’d be right back. He walked out the front door and called Coe from out in the parking lot.

‘How much do you know?’ Coe asked.

‘My partner told me the casings got lost. Are they going to pull you?’

‘The task force will get restructured, but no, I stay. Would your CIU have stayed with him?’

‘They’re very good and they know the area.’

‘That’s what they’re saying. It’s not pretty here. But I’m calling to see what you’ve learned if anything about Alan Krueger.’

‘I interviewed a Thomas Casey today who was a good friend of Krueger’s. Casey thinks Krueger did work for the Secret Service as an independent contractor after he resigned and said he suspected at the time he was also doing work for the CIA. Can you check on that?’

‘I can try.’

‘Can you get military records on Casey?’

‘I get the same records you get.’

‘You get them a lot faster and if there’s more the Navy will be more likely to give it to you. I’ve also got questions about a Lieutenant Victor Shay. He’s currently stationed at Bradshaw Army Air Base on the Big Island. Right now, he’s about thirty yards from me sitting at a patio table drinking with Tom Casey. He went out of his way to avoid me today after Casey called him and told him I was going to try to get in touch with him.’

‘Casey gave you Shay’s name and then called and warned him to watch out for you?’

‘Something like that. He’s a piece of work and I get the feeling he’s got a lot of money and used to getting his way. Krueger was a regular guest in the 1980s. He broke up his trips back and forth to Hong Kong by stopping here.’

‘Give me the officer’s name again.’

‘Lieutenant Victor Shay and stationed at Bradshaw Army Air Base.’ Before hanging up, Raveneau said, ‘You’re the best I’ve worked with at the Bureau. You’ve got to bounce back from this. Don’t let it take you down.’

Raveneau returned to the bar. He ate the egg rolls and ordered a beer and another appetizer, ahi won ton. He glanced at the guys. They were going to wait him out, but doing that was making a statement different from what Casey made this morning. Then as he finished the won tons and most of the beer and was ready to confront Shay, Casey came in from the patio.

‘I’m on my way to the rest room, why don’t you go out and have your one on one with him and I’ll take my time coming back. It’s painful to watch you lurking in here.’

Raveneau walked out on to the patio.

‘What do you do at Bradshaw?’

‘Supply chain, sir. That’s what Bradshaw is about.’

‘When did you and Tom Casey meet?’

‘When I was twenty-two and flying jets. Captain Frank introduced me to him. I met Captain Frank on a flight from San Francisco. I was in uniform. He saw my wings and we started talking. He invited me by the ranch.’

‘Casey’s ranch?’

‘Captain Frank’s house was there.’

‘Did you meet Alan Krueger at Casey’s ranch?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘Did you meet him at a party at Captain Frank’s house?’

‘I don’t know. He had a lot of friends and it was a long time ago.’

‘You’ve got my card.’

‘Yes, sir, I’ve got your card.’

‘And you live by a code of conduct in the military, correct?’

‘Sir?’

‘I’m going to ask once more and if you want to change your answer that’s fine. If not, we’re clear. You’re saying that if you knew Alan Krueger it was only in passing. Is that correct?’

‘I knew who he was but I don’t think we ever exchanged more than two words.’

Raveneau took a long look at Shay before opening his notebook, talking as he did, explaining, ‘I’ve been working from photographs. Some have people in them that I don’t have any idea who they are. With most I have no idea. I’m working my way through putting names to faces, and then figuring out who knew who.

‘Alan Krueger was the victim so I’ve got his face down. Jim Frank, I know him now, and Casey, and Matt Frank. But anyway, I went to my car while you were eating. I had to make a call and I got this photo out at the same time. Here it is, and before today I knew one face but not the other.’

Raveneau slid it across the table then waited.

‘Allyson Candel took that. That’s you and Krueger holding up your drinks there, isn’t it? That’s the Krueger you only knew as a passing acquaintance. Was it just a party shot? Or do you want to back up and start this conversation again? I’m giving you the option, but after that I’m going to hold you to the code you are sworn to, and I don’t really like to make threats. They don’t usually help in investigations. But you’re on a military base and harder to get to, so I’m going to tell you today that if I figure out you’ve lied to me I’ll go to your commander. I’ll call you out on that code of honor you’re sworn to. Do you hear me?’

‘I hear you talking.’

‘You have a fine night, Lieutenant.’

THIRTY-EIGHT

R
aveneau’s marriage lasted nearly two decades. He still viewed its failure as his fault and some of the loneliness that came after as deserved. When it ended it took him a long time to learn to live alone. Tell him twenty years ago that living alone is where he would be at this age and he wouldn’t have believed you. Post divorce he’d had relationships with several different women, though before Celeste none lasted. He didn’t think of himself as remote or cool to the touch, or as someone with blunted emotions, and maybe it was just aging but he was fine coming home to an empty apartment at night. Now that was changing again.

He poured a glass of wine after getting in the door. He walked out in the cold air and the change from the soft warmth of Hawaii was startling. He walked out to the parapet. The city was his front yard. He called Celeste looking out at the night city.

Celeste lived with a boyfriend for nine, almost ten years. When he fell in love with someone else it had devastated her and he knew the story. She told it to him in one form or another many times after they started going out. Then she had been skittish and hopeful and angry all at once. It must have been six months before he heard her really laugh. Her laugh now was the kind that takes you along like a wave coming in.

After they made their plan for tomorrow and talked and he hung up, he made a sandwich and showered. He poured another glass before sitting to read the blog la Rosa forwarded him. La Rosa read Politico, The Daily Beast, Huffington Post, and other politically oriented websites and posts. She kept up with the local scene. What she forwarded was from Owlseye.com, a local blogger gaining a national reputation for his pipeline of inside scandal. That included the police department where several times he’d correctly predicted a shakeup or reorganization; or rather he leaked it after a tip.

In the blog she forwarded the owlseye wrote,

Sources have confirmed Federal agencies and local police are in a frantic search for alleged perpetrators of a planned bomb plot here! Yes, in San Francisco, and my secret source reveals the Feds muffed a critical play. A big shakeup may happen very shortly at the FBI San Francisco Field Office and inside SFPD. More information soon unless I become a target for ‘lone wolf’ wiretaps, as has happened to the owlseye before. When a federal law enforcement agency gets angry we are all terrorists.

Raveneau thought the tone of it was nauseating, but that didn’t matter. That it was finally leaking out didn’t surprise him. That someone piped in had contacted this blogger versus more traditional media wasn’t even unusual any more.

Very early the next morning he crossed the Bay Bridge and drove south toward SFO and took the long term parking exit. He drove up to the ramp to the upper level and to the space shown on the schematic. He marked the time then clocked the drive south from there to the 92 crossover. He clocked the whole run and tried to picture the surveillance choreography on the winding road leading to Highway 1 and the coast.

Why were Khan and his wife dead? Were the bomb plotters cleaning up behind themselves, systematically removing the links? That was all he could come up with this morning and it wasn’t much. And why did they take such a risk to recover the bomb casings? From the way Khan moved around he must have known he was under surveillance. It occurred to him Khan may not have known his employees would be killed.

Raveneau drove out to the coast before turning around. He drove back toward San Francisco still thinking it through. The plotters, even if they didn’t know about the video feed inside the cabinet shop, would have to assume that Khan loading boxes outside would be watched and followed. What if Khan had been arrested at SFO? What if he had decided to talk? What then? It could only mean that Khan couldn’t connect the dots. He only knew so much. That’s why they could go forward. It has to be that, he thought. It’s the only thing that explains their actions.

Four bombs when finished, a low tech transfer on a windy road at night and not unsophisticated, more like aware. Maybe we’re not seeing these people for what they are. He knew the Feds were here before dawn with dogs working their way up the shoulder of the road, but even now they weren’t sure when the casings were transferred. The driver was skilled, the surveillance teams bottle-necked. The driver made eight stops on the road and each time the surveillance assumed he was watching behind for them, but on one of those stops someone stepped out from the trees and unloaded the boxes before he drove on.

As he came down the offramp into San Francisco he called Coe and asked, ‘Are these plotters getting inside help from somewhere?’

‘How do you come up with that?’

‘I’m asking if there’s suspicion.’

‘There’s always suspicion, especially after a big screw-up.’

‘Is the shakeup at your field office only about losing the bomb casings or is there another element?’

‘We’re getting into territory where I can’t say much, but I’m going to put you on hold and go talk to my SAC about bringing you in. But first tell me where you’re getting this.’

‘I don’t have anything. You’re getting ahead here. I’m just trying to make sense of things. I just drove the route you sent me and I’ve been thinking it over.’

‘Hold on.’

Raveneau stayed on the line a couple of minutes then hung up. Coe had his number. Coe could call him. He did about five minutes later.

‘Raveneau, can you come here this morning? We’ve come to the same conclusion and we’d like to talk more with you. We think we’re dealing with people familiar with our methodology.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I think too.’

‘Can you come by this morning?’

‘I won’t be walking in with anything you don’t already know, but, sure, I’ll stop by.’