Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 03 - Snow Cone (22 page)

“Sorry, it’s Roger. 
Galveston didn’t feel like talking,” I said.  “We’ll cooperate.”  Galveston mouthed the words for me to say.  “Meet us near Leicester Square, on the corner of Bear Street and Cranborn in twenty minutes.  You can talk with me then.”  Galveston whispered what he wanted me to say next.  “If you try to capture me, the information we have will be with the newspapers.  I’ll take you to Galveston and Sally when I feel safe.”

“Okay.  I’m on my way now.  Don’t leave that location,” Mayfield parroted the same thing Browning had said.

I put the phone down.  “It’s done.  He’s on his way.”

“We’re either going to see sparks fly, or this is going to be a dud,”
Galveston said, trying to predict the outcome. 

I realized his plan and thought it was brilliant.  Neither of us believed Browning or Mayfield would arrive alone.  They weren’t that stupid.  But Browning believed Mayfield was “off the reservation”; spy talk for acting on his own.  We would see if that was truly the case.

Galveston received a text from Alex.  “Alex and Jane are at our next hotel.  They’re ready if we need them.  God, I’m getting sick of hotels,” he told me.

“I can’t believe that.  I thought you lived for this stuff,” I replied, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I’ve had enough.  One of these guys is going to take the other out.  And if they don’t, we know we’re dealing with two stinky fish.”

I nodded my head in agreement.  I had never considered that Browning and Mayfield could be working together.  Now it made sense.  Our bargaining chip would be useless.  I then thought about the future.  We needed to know everything we could about these men; anything that could help us in exposing them to the proper authorities. 

I sent a text to Alex and asked him to find out everything he could about Alexander Mayfield and Curtis Browning, the one man with the CIA, the other with the State Department.  Alex sent a quick message back saying he was on it. 

The minutes ticked by until the twenty minutes were almost up.  The corner of
Bear Street and Cranbourn was clear through the trees and only fifty yards away.  The street was a bustle of activity, and a public security camera was just across the intersection.  It would be foolish for either of the men to try something here.

Sally noticed a car pull up and stop behind the intersection.  She tapped
Galveston on the shoulder and pointed.  A single man got out and walked to the corner.  It was Browning, and he was alone.  We didn’t know if he truly was alone and turned our heads in every direction to catch a glimpse of anyone assisting him. 

I saw a solitary car with two men sitting with the engine running, down from the intersection next to another portion of the park. 
Galveston spotted another car parked across the street.  Browning had not done what we had told him. 

The seconds ticked past the twenty minute deadline as Browning checked his watch while standing on the corner.  All of a sudden a car rushed past in front of us and stopped at the meeting point.  Mayfield got out and adjusted his jacket before moving toward the corner. 

Browning saw Mayfield first, and a photo would have been priceless.  Browning threw up his hands in disgust as Mayfield approached him.  We wished we could have bugged the area to catch what they were saying.  Mayfield began yelling at Browning, throwing his arms wildly in the air and pointing a finger at the other man.  Browning unleashed back at him with a flood of words before he turned his back.  Neither man was happy about being duped.

Galveston
smiled, but the celebration was short-lived.  We had only proved that both men were working together—and against us.

“We need to go.  Head to the back of the park; we can slip away there,”
Galveston said quietly. 

“More running away,” I thought as I followed Sally and
Galveston to the opposite end of the small city park.

Galveston
hailed yet another taxi.  I wished London had a frequent taxi user program because we were running out of cash to give these guys.

The hotel was only a few blocks away, and we arrived in less than five minutes.  I couldn’t wait to see Jane and give her a long hug and kiss.  It seemed like an eternity since I had seen her.  I even contemplated giving Alex a hug too.

Jane welcomed us at the hotel door.  I grabbed her immediately.  She felt good in my arms.  Galveston shook Alex’s hand profusely.  It was as if we hadn’t seen each other in months.

I allowed Jane to pry herself from my embrace just long enough to introduce Sally.  Jane gave her a hug and asked how she had tolerated being around us for so long.  Sally only laughed.  I had a good idea how she was doing it. 

Jane had a keen eye and noticed a difference in Galveston.  She looked at Sally and then back at Galveston.  Jane reached for my elbow.  “How long has this been going on?” she whispered, motioning with her head toward Galveston. 

“I would say since the third day.  It has been excruciating to watch,” I responded, giving her the gagging symbol.

“But she looks so young.  Doesn’t he have that policy about woman below the age of thirty?”

“When he found out she’s thirty-two, he did a one-eighty.  I think he’s moved from the crush phase to infatuation.  I must admit though, he’s been able to stay on task.”

“Well, that’s just a miracle.  What do you think of her?” Jane probed.

“She’s nice, smart, seems to fit in with us.  That’s high praise for what she’s gone through already.  I think she would be a good fit for
Galveston—until he messes it up,” I replied.

Jane laughed.  She knew exactly what I meant.  “You know it’s only a matter of time.  He’ll do something stupid.”

“He is an expert at that when it comes to the opposite sex.  I just hope he doesn’t break her heart until after we’re done.”

Galveston
interrupted our meeting.  The time had come to discuss our next plan of action.  I updated Jane and Alex on the current state of the investigation, and Galveston followed with what we should do next. 

The hours stretched into the night.  We had expected a call from either Browning or Mayfield, but no such call came.  Our hypothesis and theory about the operation and who was behind it was holding up, but we needed to make it into a law. 

We finally decided to get some sleep since the day had exhausted our faculties.  But Alex continued working on his computer late into the night.  The information he was finding would break this case wide open.

-Chapter 36-

None of us slept well that night.  Maybe it was because we were being hunted by murderous gunmen, or maybe it was because Galveston and I slept on the floor.  We had been gracious enough to allow Sally and Jane to each have a bed. 

Alex had the benefit of neither of those choices.  In the morning, we found him hunched over his laptop with his face pressed against the keys. 

“I would love to prank him; hand in the water, shaving cream on the face.  Can’t we do something?” Galveston implored me.

“Were not twelve,” I whispered.  “Wake him up.  That position doesn’t look comfortable.”

“Aw, let him sleep.  He was up half the night.”

We stood at the foot of the two beds.  If anyone else had awakened, they would have seen us standing there gawking at Alex.  It was a creepy scene.

“Don’t you think she’s pretty hot?” Galveston whispered in a juvenile way as he pointed at Sally.

“You know were adults, right?  Real adults don’t really say things like that.  Guys in frat houses say things like that,” I reminded him.

“I’m just trying to get your opinion.  You’re not being very helpful,” he chided.

  “My opinion really shouldn’t matter.  You make so many rules about your love life.  Why don’t you just go with your feelings for once.”

Galveston shrugged his shoulders.  “My feelings are usually based on appearance,” he said with insensitivity but with truth.

“Maybe that’s what you should change,” I retorted.

“I can hear every word you’re saying,” Jane grumbled from her bed.  “Just get Alex up.”

I followed the order and tapped Alex’s shoulder.  He awoke startled.  “What the hell,” he said through a half-opened mouth.

“Time to get up, sunshine.  We have work to do,” Galveston so lovingly said. 

Alex pulled his head up and looked at us.  The keys from his laptop had left a series of dented impressions on his face. 
Galveston laughed, and I tried to look away.

“What is it?  What is so funny?” he demanded.

“Were those keys yummy?” Galveston joked. 

Alex didn’t understand until he rubbed his face and felt the indentations.  “You’re a scream, man.  I guess you don’t want to know what I found about the guys trying to kill us.”

“You actually found something?” I inquired, forgetting about the playful banter.

“Oh, yeah.  Good stuff too.  Where should I begin?” he asked and let out a deep yawn. 

“Mayfield first,” Galveston said quickly.  “That guy has to be dirty.”  I knew Galveston prayed that he was.

“No, leave him for last.  Browning is first.  I don’t want you making a decision that quickly,” I ordered.

Alex handed me a piece of paper where he had written the names of the two men and everything he found out about them.

“It wasn’t easy.  The CIA has found most of my back doors
, so it took me a little longer getting in.  The State Department site was easy.”  Alex had designed many of the computer systems used by the CIA when he was previously employed by the NSA.  He conveniently left himself some entrances onto the servers of the CIA just in case he got bored and needed to do some light reading.

I examined his writings on the paper.  The handwriting resembled a third grader.  There was a reason Alex became an expert with computers.  I began to read off Browning’s biography.  Some of it was from the State Department personnel files and other information had been gleaned from the internet.

I recited the page as best as I could decipher it.  “Browning lives in D.C., no wife and no kids.  He was promoted three years ago to a post in Eastern Europe.  He left there and returned to D.C. a year later.”

“Wait until you get to the next one,” Alex interrupted.

I read it aloud.  “He requested a transfer to Greenland, about six months ago.  One of his new duties was to be a liaison with the CIA Western European operations.  He was there for oversight on their activities.”

“So he’s a bureaucrat keeping an eye on the CIA so they don’t do anything naughty.  There’s nothing smarter than handcuffing your intelligence agents like that,”
Galveston opined.

“And he requested a transfer to
Greenland,” I added. 

I scoured Alex’s detailed notes further.  I found one item of extreme interest.  Browning was a purveyor of the arts, especially modern art.  “How did you find out about his involvement with art?” I asked Alex.

“That was an easy one.  When I did a general search of his name I found that he is heavily involved in the arts.  He even did a lecture once at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.  He did a talk about Salvador Dali.”

“Didn’t you say Sartine was involved in the art world too?” 

“You bet.  Being a snob myself, I did think his collection was very impressive.  You’re coming to the same conclusion as me.”

“Which is?”
Galveston wondered.

“Sartine is involved too,”
I said nodding my head.  It was a loose connection on who hired Terrain Scape in the first place, but it was the best link we had come up with. 

I moved on to Mayfield and expected to find some incriminating evidence on his involvement in this
corrupt scheme.

Alex’s notes came from Mayfield’s personnel file from the CIA.  Mayfield had only been a field agent for a short time, in
Pakistan no less.  Alex couldn’t access what his involvement in the area was.  Whatever he did was obviously enough to promote him, because he became a lead in intelligence operations in Western Europe.  His personal life was far from impressive.  He had been divorced twice and lived in London where he was stationed.  Mayfield was also a liaison with MI6, the British equivalent of the CIA. 

“
Galveston,” I started, ready to break the bad news, “I’m not getting a connection with Mayfield.  Sorry.”

“How can that be possible?” he exclaimed, not believing what I said.  “Of course he can be involved.” 
Galveston took Alex’s note from me and read for himself.  “Ah, this doesn’t tell me anything.  I still think he’s our main suspect.”

Alex smiled widely at us.  He obviously was holding the best information for last.

“What is it, you Cheshire cat?” Galveston said with frustration.

“I do have one more piece of information.  I accessed it from the operation’s database.  It wasn’t even under secret and confidential.”

“Well?” I prodded.

“The CIA has been suspicious of activity in
Greenland.  Mayfield was in charge of it.  They call it
Operation Snow Cone
.”

“You can’t be serious,”
Galveston said, laughing at the name.

“Oh, I’m as serious as a heart attack,” Alex responded.  “The CIA has been suspicious for months because of chatter about nuclear material being sold on the black market.  It just so happens that you guys were the catalyst when you informed the Air Force of the secret camp.  They started
Operation Snow Cone
to find the men who were at that camp.”

“When did the operation start?” I wondered aloud.

“The day you guys were caught by the CIA in Iceland.  And do you know who started it?” Alex paused for dramatic effect.  “Mayfield.”

Galveston
shook his head.  His dream of crushing Mayfield had been shattered with that one statement.  But Galveston wasn’t going to be deterred.  “It’s just a front.  Mayfield is just using it to eliminate us and get the nuclear material out of the country.”

I interrupted him before he could delve further into more conspiracy theories.  “It’s Browning, not Mayfield,” I blurted out.  “I bet Browning and Sartine have been working together.”

I believed I was close and not far from the truth.  Browning had to have known Sartine.  That must have been why he transferred to Greenland in the first place.  Joe’s research article must have led Sartine to act on the location of the bomb, and the same information went to Browning.  Joe’s friend, Tony, was an unlikely pawn through the entire game.  He had sealed his fate when he became friends with Joe.

“I think he’s right,
Galveston.  Browning has been your man all along,” Alex concluded.

Galveston
still didn’t want to believe it, not so much because he despised Mayfield, but more because he had been duped by Browning.  “Then why did Browning tell us all the information about the nuclear bomb when we were in Iceland?” Galveston said, attempting to shatter our theory.

He had a valid point, but I thought about it logically.  “We had decided the case was over at that point, hadn’t we?  We weren’t going to ask any more questions because the government was going to handle it.  If Browning wouldn’t have given us that information, we would have continued to search for answers.  And
if it hadn’t been for Alex sending us those messages to run, we would be sitting in a jail cell right now for a crime we didn’t commit.”

Galveston
knew my rebuttal was spot on.  He had decided the case was over.  We had done our part in finding the men harassing Joe, Browning backed up our suspicions, and there was nothing more to solve.

Galveston
nodded his head.  As much as he wanted Mayfield to be the cause, his vendetta would have to wait for another day.

“Give me the phone we got from the agent,” I ordered
Galveston.

He handed it over reluctantly, and
I gave it to Alex to get me past the code.  He took a few minutes to fiddle with it and had it working for me in no time.  I dialed Mayfield, and Galveston looked on in horror, thinking I had gone off the reservation.

Mayfield picked up immediately, none
too pleased with being left at the corner of the street.  “Galveston, we can’t keep doing this,” he said angrily.

“Mayfield, its Roger Murphy.  I’m in charge now,” I said forcefully.  “You’re being played.  Curtis Browning is the man you want.”

“What the hell are you talking about?  Browning has nothing to do with this,” he said dismissively. 

I laid out our theory and all the clues we had found.  Mayfield didn’t say a word.

“Browning works for the Red Hand.  That’s whose running this operation, and that’s who’s going to have a nuclear bomb.”  I finished talking and awaited his response.  I could tell he was at a loss for words.

Mayfield was finally able to speak.  “But the Red Hand is a myth,” he blurted.

“I have a pack of documents that says otherwise, and they’re from Nikos Christopoulos.  You know, the man that was killed in the building explosion?” 

Mayfield knew exactly who I was talking about because he had been tracking the man.  “I gave Browning his exact location.  We were on our way to pick him up,” he said with shock and surprise.

“Browning was intending for you and your men to be in that explosion.  I guess he figured he could eliminate us in the process,” I said coolly.

“Oh, my God.  He told me,” Mayfield stammered.  “He told me to wait until you got there.  Then we could keep everyone safe in one location.  I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection.”  Mayfield had been played by Browning.  “What do we need to do,” Mayfield said in a momentary period of caring.

I knew exactly what we should do.  “We’ll give you the information on the Red Hand, but we need some insurance.”

“Keep talking,” Mayfield answered in his usual gruff manner.

“We need to have our names cleared as murder suspects.  You know we had nothing to do with that.”  I felt Sally tap me on the shoulder.  She was holding a notepad with the name “Veronica” on it.  I nodded my head that I understood.  “Next, we need you to keep someone safe.  Her name is Veronica and she was Nikos Christopoulos’s mistress.”  I gave him the address to Veronica’s flat.

I knew Mayfield thought it an odd request, but it was the least I could do for Sally—and a little for Nikos.

“Uh, okay.  I can do that.  Now when do I get these documents?”

“I want you to go to
Switzerland.  When I have confirmation these two things have been done I will give you the documents and the location of where the uranium is to be auctioned off.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” he tried to say.

“No negotiations.  You need to be in Switzerland by tomorrow and do the things I’ve asked or the deal is off,” I said emphatically.

I could sense his reluctance, but Mayfield had no choice.  He didn’t know anything about the inner workings of the Red Hand, or even of its true existence.  To have the documents would be an intelligence coup for him.

“Yeah, okay.  We’ll do as you say.  I’ll contact you on this phone,” he replied dejectedly.

I turned to
Galveston, smiled, and gave him a thumbs up signal.  We were in the driver’s seat, and I had no clue in what direction we were going.  I figured I would leave that up to Galveston and the rest of the crew.