The Girl on the Yacht (13 page)

Cameron signaled for Jason Purdy to drive. She climbed into the passenger seat, settled in, and fastened the seat belt. While he got in, she pulled out the file that Little Horse had given her and dialed the number on the jacket. It rang.

“Doctor Taylor’s office.”

“This is Sheriff Investigator West. Is he in this morning?”

“Is it about the woman at the dock?”

“Yes. Is he there—can you put him on?”

“He’s not due in until ten-thirty. Do you want to leave a message for him?”

“No, thanks.” Cameron disconnected and turned to her younger investigator. “Let’s go to his house.”

Purdy followed the GPS directions through the back streets of Costa Mesa. “Turn left now.” He complied with the electronic voice. “Your destination is ahead on the right.”

The older residential neighborhood looked well kept, but old. The tiny row of houses close to the street seemed to be a holdout of the 1950’s with their small porches, white clapboard siding, and low pitched asphalt roofs. The sidewalks, with cracks sprouting weeds, looked as if they had been poured sometime long, long ago.

Purdy pointed to the silver Toyota Highlander in a driveway mid-block. “That’s his.” He pulled in behind it and stared out the windshield at the small house. “This is the house of a plastic surgeon? I’ll bet I could afford this neighborhood,” Purdy said.

“If you’ve got a million bucks,” Cameron added.

“No way. These are tiny—and old. No way.”

“One mile to the beach. Prime real estate.”

“Well, I expected this guy to have a humongous place—like you see on TV.”

Cameron opened the car door and walked over to the front porch.
How could I have let Mitch Taylor cloud my judgment?
She climbed the three steps, and the door swung open. When Mitch crossed the threshold, he appeared as startled as Cameron felt.

“What are you doing here?” He looked over at her partner, and an inquiring expression came over his face. “What’s going on?”

“You need to come to the station with us to answer a few more questions,” Purdy said.

“About what? I already told you everything I know.”

“Just a few details,” Cameron said. “You know, specific time things.”

“Do I get to wear cuffs?” Mitch held his hands out in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“That can be arranged,” Cameron quickly responded.

“Do I need my lawyer?” Mitch said jokingly with an obvious sense that something had changed between them.

“It’s up to you,” she answered with all seriousness in her tone.

“Cameron, what’s going on?” He no longer smiled.

“Dr. Taylor, it shouldn’t take too long,” Purdy said.

Mitch looked from Purdy to Cameron and back. She opened the rear door and indicated he slide over to the far side of the Prius.

After she slid in next to him, she felt the closeness of the cramped rear seat.
Focus
.

“I have patients to see in an hour.”

Cameron remained silent.

Cameron walked ahead of Mitch and Purdy through the second floor of the Sheriff’s department. At the end of a long corridor, she threw open the door to the interview room. She pointed to the cheap chair at the desk. “You might as well have a seat.”

The interview room wreaked of stale air and sustained sweat from previous visitors to the investigation side of law enforcement. With its whitewashed walls, steel-mesh-covered windows, and distinctive wall mirror, the scene was complete—no privacy—no comfort—possible intimidation.
Mitch should get the message
, she thought. She stood at the door, arms folded, while both men went over to the table in the center of the room.

With his foot, Purdy gently pushed the cheap chair toward Mitch. “Doc, have a seat. You’ll have to excuse how hot it is in here––the air conditioner’s out.”

Cameron led Purdy into the next room where she walked over to the wall of glass and its see-through mirror. She stared at Mitch Taylor, plastic surgeon, unknown whereabouts on the night of the murder. He sat there without moving a muscle over the next ten minutes. He pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed. “Damn, he’s calling his lawyer.”
Enough, it’s time to talk
. She raced into the room with Purdy on her heels.

Mitch disconnected.

She slipped into the chair opposite him.

“Calling your lawyer?”

“My office. It doesn’t look like I’m going to make my first appointment, am I?”

“We’ll see. It shouldn’t take that long if you’re truthful. Would you like something to drink?”

“A nice red wine would be excellent,” he said, in jest.

She stared hard at him. He would get the message. He had lied to her, and she was angry.

“Cameron, what’s going on?” Mitch asked.

“We’d like to go over your story one more time, if you don’t mind?” Purdy leaned against the wall.

“Dr. Taylor, we have a number of problems with the story about your whereabouts last week. I’m sure there’s a simple answer.” Cameron moved quickly through her initial interview report on her iPad. According to my notes, you flew to Cancun, Mexico, on Saturday, at three in the morning. Is that correct?”

“No,” he hesitated while he recalled the time. “I left the dock at three, went to the IHOP near the airport, and we left around five in the morning. Is that it?”

“Not quite. You stated that you attended a medical conference.”

“Yep, two days––when we finished, we got back on the plane and returned straight away.”

“What time did you depart from Cancun airport?”

“Not quite sure. We were really exhausted. But I remember that we arrived at John Wayne Airport right around eight o’clock, Monday morning.”

“Doctor Taylor, here’s my problem with that story. We couldn’t find your name on any airline. Did you travel under another name?”

“Cameron, I’m guilty of misleading you, and I admit it.”

She leaned in for his statement.

“We took a private jet to Cancun. There were six of us all together—the pilot, her name’s Kim, but I don’t recall her last name, the copilot, Matt, and three other doctors. I can give you their numbers, if you need them.”

Cameron was stunned by the answer.

“You have a jet?” Purdy asked.

“No, it’s John’s. He lets us use it for the trips.”

“John who?” Purdy asked.

Mitch looked at Cameron. “John Hunter.”

Still not certain how to react, Cameron continued questioning. “He lets you use his private jet to go to conferences . . . in Mexico?”

He nodded. “That’s why there’s not an airline record.”

She nodded slowly, as if she understood his logic, then hit him with the next question. “We checked every hotel, motel, and hostel in Cancun, Cozumel, and Isla Mujeres. None had a record of Mitch Taylor. Where did you stay in Cancun?”

“Wow, you’re good. John said you were the best. We didn’t stay there.”

“Where were you?”

“A small village near the Mayan ruins in Chichén Itzá. Valladolid is about eighty miles from Cancun. It is a sleepy little town of fifteen thousand people.”

“That’s where you went to a medical conference? Is that what you want me to believe? Four Southern California doctors traveling to a small village in the jungles of Mexico for a medical conference—in a private jet.”

“Okay, I didn’t go to a conference.” Before she could interrupt him, he continued. “The area is home to the indigenous people of the Yucatan peninsula. Quite poor. I’m associated with about twenty doctors and dentists here in Southern California––it’s sort of like Doctors Without Borders. We’ve been traveling down there twice a year for the past six years. Each of us has a specialty––mine is pediatric plastic surgery. So, to get back to your question, we didn’t stay in a hotel––we were put up by locals in their houses.”

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth when I first questioned you?”

“We prefer to do it all anonymously. You’re around the dock––I didn’t want it out there. John knows––but he’s not talking. I’m sorry I misled you, causing you to spend unnecessary time following up on this, but I didn’t think you would be investigating me.”

“I still have to verify your story with the other doctors.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. “Here are the names of the others.”

Purdy scribbled down the three names and their cell numbers.

Half an hour later, Cameron dropped Mitch at his office.

He held the car door open and stared at her. “Will you have dinner with me tonight? Get this behind us.” His weak voice was filled with hope and apology.

“I’m pretty busy with this case.” She wanted to say yes, but she’d been through a roller coaster of emotions during the past hour and wasn’t sure where this was headed––a cop and a surgeon. She stared into his deep, blue eyes. “Mitch, I don’t know.”

“Just think about it. I’m so sorry for not being open with you. Just think about it. If not tonight, then maybe tomorrow night, the next night, or any night in the future. I’ll keep my calendar open.”

“We’ll see,” she said.

He nodded and walked away.

She felt empty.

John reached down, shut the engine off to the Maserati, and pounded the wheel once with the palm of his hand. “Dammit.”

The deep recesses of his mind had been churning away all the way back to Newport Beach from the FBI office in Los Angeles—he had been played. At every point in the conversation, Teddy had steered the topic without ever saying anything of substance.
He’s the best at it––that’s why he’s the CIA’s Assistant Director in Charge of Special Projects.
John had provided some important details of the investigation and Teddy had soaked it in without acknowledging that Laura was even one of the Agency’s advisors.

Cameron had a difficult job ahead of her.
I can give her hints on how to handle him, but she has to be on her best game when they go head-to-head over Laura’s affiliation.
He needed to emphasize the Agency’s, and particularly Teddy’s, real strength––coaxing information from their subjects without revealing a single piece of their own knowledge. Teddy Bryce had to do the right thing—if Laura was one of his, he needed to know who killed her, too. At the very least, he could connect Cameron up with people that could supply her with any non-sensitive information.
Fat chance
.

John climbed out of the car. Caught by a sudden feeling of relief, he leaned back against the Maserati. The combination of salt air and the sun’s rays seemed to put him at ease. The stress over the past twelve hours was subsiding—it felt good to be back at the marina. The morning had warmed nicely, and the water’s edge streamed with people. He glanced out to his boat at the far end of E-dock and spotted Marin and Cameron on the upper deck taking in the summer sun.
Nice
.

He bounded up the stairs of his boat, walked over to the upper deck refrigerator, and pulled out a Coke.

Before he could say hello, Cameron rose to her feet and came toward him.

“What did you get from Laura’s hard-drive?” Without a breath, she shot him another question. “Why can’t I go online with my computer or iPad?”

He plopped down on the lounge next to Marin. “Give me a second.” He took a gulp of his soda.

“How’d it go with your friend?” Marin asked.

“Okay, I guess.” He watched a small boat pass by––sixteen or eighteen feet long with a family onboard enjoying their cruise.

The investigator walked to the railing and spun back toward him. Her body language said that her patience had run out.

He rose to his feet and headed toward the stairs. “Let’s go below, and I’ll tell you what I know.” He led the way down into his computer room and turned back to her. “I had to go to the FBI office in L.A. about the computer before I talked to you.”

“What’s going on? Is the FBI taking over the case?” Cameron asked.

“No.”

“Then why were you at the FBI?”

“They have a secure phone line to Langley that I needed to use.”

Cameron stared at him. “They let
you
use a secure line at the FBI to call the CIA?” Cameron shook her head and appeared stunned by the information. “Who are you, really? Are you with the CIA? Is your real name John Hunter?”

“No. I mean yes––that’s my real name. And, no, I don’t work for them. When I worked at the White House, I consulted with the Secret Service, the NSA, and the CIA. So I know a few people.”

“What exactly did you do at the White House?”

“We can’t go there––computer security––that’s all I can tell you.” John turned back to his computer. “Last night I closed the wireless connection to my iPad and iPhone, and I removed the wireless card from my computer.” He paused. “I don’t want them looking in while we go over Laura’s files.” He reached over and plugged in the computer.

“They’re looking in?” She sounded skeptical.

“You need to see the encrypted files. Before you talk to Teddy, you should know he already thinks you’ve seen them.”

“Who’s Teddy?”

“He’s an Assistant Director at Langley. He’s a good friend––well, as good a friend as a spook can be. Anyway, he’s checking if Laura has any connection to the Agency.”

“Is he coming to my office?”

“No.” John let out a chuckle. “He’s in Virginia. You’ll call him on this number at one o’clock our time.” John jotted it on a piece of paper. “He’ll be tied up in a meeting until then. You probably don’t have access to a Federal Government high security line—so you’ll need to call him on a land line. Trust me, Teddy won’t take the call if you’re on a cellphone. They really don’t like discussing agency business over the phone.”

She folded the paper and put it in her pocket.

“Take some time and read the files––don’t put anything on your iPad. Hand write any notes that seem relevant. You may not have another opportunity to see them if they wipe the drive on Laura’s computer,” John said.

“What do you mean? It’s in our lockup at the station.”

“Ah, just my imagination kicking in.” He wasn’t smiling.

Cameron understood his expression. “I’d like to see them try. Anyway, why don’t I take this hard-drive as a backup, just in case?”

“No way. It doesn’t exist. You never saw it––and tell your tech supervisor that
she
never made a copy from the computer.” John turned her toward him. “Are we clear? You don’t want these people tearing apart your life. Trust me on that.”

“What hard-drive are you talking about?” Cameron’s eyes rolled up.

“Don’t discuss it with your lab people over the phone.” He shook his head. “The CIA or NSA are probably listening in on your calls by now.”

Cameron stared at him. “You’re being paranoid.”

“You have no idea.”

Cameron slid the chair back to the desk and speed read the files. “Laura was a profiler for the CIA? No one said anything about that to me.” She shifted and kept reading. “I’m going to have to talk to Dan Douglas again. He left that part of the story out of his statement.”

“I’ve known Laura for a few years––virtually every weekend––and I didn’t have a clue,” John said.

“A husband would know,” Cameron said.

“Maybe he didn’t feel at ease sharing it with you––it is the CIA.”

“We’ll see.” She continued to read. “These files are fascinating––the detailed insights in these personality profiles are amazing. Most likely one of the terrorists had her killed, but who knows?”

“Teddy didn’t seem too concerned––even to the point that he acted like she didn’t exist.” John shrugged. “I guess that’s what they’re taught to do––deny, deny, deny. Even so, she was one of them.”

“I appreciate the time you put into this. The case has become complicated, and I’m going to need this copy of the files.”

“That would put me in a difficult position,” John said.

“This is a murder investigation.” Cameron looked irritated. “How can it help my case if the physical evidence is destroyed by the government? How could I prosecute, even if I find the perpetrator?”

“You’re going to have to make it work without the files. When I called Teddy, I told him that Laura was murdered and that you knew of her connection to the Agency. He doesn’t know how much you’ve seen. It’s best that way. He’s pretty confident that I broke the password on her computer.”

“If you believe that they will go after Laura’s computer in lock up––”

He shook his head. “You’re not getting this drive. I’m destroying it. You can understand the implications if any of the people profiled got their hands on these files.”

Marin appeared in the doorway having heard the conversation. “But, John, she needs the evidence.”

“Mare, I feel the same way you do, but I’ve given this serious thought. If one of these characters is responsible, it’s probably impossible to catch and convict them anyway. Maybe Cameron can uncover the truth with what I’ve given her.”

“I’m not sure where I go from here.” Cameron obviously needed time to understand the new information and merge it with what she knew about the case.

“Let’s start with the call you’ll be making,” John said.

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t just call up the CIA and ask them a question––that’s a road to nowhere,” John said.

After a few seconds, she got the gist of the comment. “Right.”

“They’ll play you. You have to turn it back on them.” John shook his head. “Teddy played me this morning, but you’ll be ready for him.”

“How do you get ready?”

“First, you need security clearance.”

“I don’t have that. Doesn’t it take a long time to go through the vetting process?”

“Not necessarily. If you’ve got something they want, they run a temporary.”

“I don’t have anything they want.”

“Don’t be so certain. Anyway, I asked Teddy to get you temp’ed so you could talk to Laura’s supervisor.”

“Why would he do that?”

“That’s the key. If he didn’t do it by the time you call him, then there will be no information coming your way––they will just milk you for what you know. One way street.” He hesitated. “I wouldn’t even talk to them, if that were the case. Let them do their own legwork.”

She nodded. “Sounds like you might have played him a little.”

“I know how it works. First, you ask if he cleared you. If not, hang up.”

“But––”

“If he calls you back, then you know he wants what you have, and you can move forward. Now you have some leverage.”

“What if he doesn’t call back?”

“Then, no loss. You’re not wasting time with them.”

It appeared that she got it and her mind was off working through the upcoming call.

“Let me give you some background. In my dealings with the interagency bureaucracies, it’s best to give them little or no information. When they ask questions, deflect them with other questions. Keep them off balance. That’s the technique they teach their people.”

“Okay, I got it. Why do I need my computer turned off?”

“They’re waiting for you to communicate. When you do, they’ll have easy access to your files.”

“Come on, don’t you think that’s a bit crazy?”

“Let me show you something. This morning, before I left to make the call, I removed the files on my computer that I didn’t want them to see. I removed my wireless card from the slot. I also updated a software program that I wrote that tells me if someone is hacking into my computer.” He nodded.

Cameron looked over at the screen.

“I haven’t been online since last night. I’ll bet they’re out there waiting for me––especially after the bombshell I dropped on Teddy.” He popped the small door off the bottom of the computer. “My program identifies the hacker’s computer and worms back through the connection into its hard drive. It activates the user’s computer camera and audio so I can see and hear who’s on the other end. Pretty cool, huh?”

“If it works,” Cameron’s looked like she doubted it.

“Let me do this first, before I connect online.” He sat down at the computer and typed a few commands. On the desk to his left, the stand-alone hard drive with Laura’s files started spinning and making whirling sounds. After a minute, a puff of smoke emanated from the drive and it came to a halt, destroyed. He disconnected it from his computer and threw it into the trash.

Cameron’s eyes became wide open in disbelief.

“Tell your techie, Dianne, I’ll buy her a new one,” he said to Cameron.

He picked up a small card from the desk and inserted it into the communication slot. Within seconds, a window popped up with the message, “John, you are being watched by IPv6 followed by a long series of digits and dots––assigned username, Brandon Wynn. Would you like to respond?” John clicked the yes icon, and a picture of a young man appeared on his screen.

“Hi, Brandon, how’s it going?” John said into his microphone.

The younger man almost fell out of his chair.

“Tell Teddy it’s a fabulous day here in Newport Beach.”

Brandon glanced up to his right, “He’s in my system––how did he get around our firewalls?”

Teddy Bryce laughed off camera. “Hell, he wrote the programs.” His tone got serious. “Get someone to figure out how he did it. If he can compromise the system, then some other genius can do it, too. We need to fix that backdoor––now.”

“Afternoon, Teddy. I thought you were in meetings. Oh, yeah, I can hear you too,” John said.

The computer on the other end went dark.

“What happened?” Cameron asked.

“Teddy pulled the plug.”

“That’s scary. If you hadn’t created that program, you wouldn’t have known they were in your computer. Will they watch mine, too?”

“I’m sure that when I mentioned your name to Teddy earlier, he had them key in on your computer, phone, and even your iPad. That’s why I asked you not to communicate.”

“How could they do that? They need a search warrant.”

“It’s called NWN.”

Marin nodded. “No Warrant Necessary––good old Homeland Security.”

“Let’s see your computer.” John reached up.

Cameron disappeared into the corridor, and minutes later she came back in with her Mac laptop.

He popped off the door to the communication card.

“Are there any secrets that you want to keep from the CIA?”

John held up a CD. “Let’s put my program on your computer. As for your iPad, just keep the comm settings off. That way you can keep your current case notes away from prying eyes.” After adding his program to Cameron’s laptop and removing a couple of her files she wanted off, he said, “Now you can use your computer to give them info you want them to have while protecting your case.” John put her wireless card back in. Again, the familiar window popped up, “Cameron, you are being watched by Eric Fung with IPv6, followed by a new set of numbers. Would you like to respond?” There was one difference in her message. At the bottom of the page, it read, “This site has accessed your computer 37 times in the past 56 hours.”

John laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Teddy told me he didn’t know of the murder. I thought that was odd.”

“So, they’ve been accessing my computer, since,” she calculated in her head, “since we identified Laura’s body. What else have they done?”

“Call your office and have them check on Laura’s computer.”