Wake the Devil (2 page)

A
fter they disconnected, Beth came back to the present and introduced FBI Special Agent Todd Milner to Jack. From his earlier comment, it was obvious he already knew Janet Newton. Nevertheless, the other woman surprised her by saying, “Jack and I are old friends.”

Beth’s expression prompted a further explanation.

“I should have mentioned it earlier,” the deputy director said. “We worked together for several years.” Her smile broadened and she extended a hand. “It’s good to see you again, Jack. You look well.”

“So do you, Janet.”

Milner commented, “Interesting story you put together, Professor.” He then turned to Michael Goodell and inquired, “Would you mind if we borrow Dr. Kale for a few minutes?”

“Not at all,” Goodell said. “Jack, thank you for coming in. A stiff drink doesn’t seem like a bad idea right now. Pull up a rock and make yourselves comfortable, people. My office is available if you need it.”

“We’ll be fine,” Milner told him. “Please excuse the interruption.”

Goodell returned a tight-lipped smile and took his leave.

Milner was in his early thirties with sandy-blond hair he combed straight back. He appeared reasonably fit, possessed intelligent features, and like most FBI agents, was dressed in an understated gray suit. He was around six feet tall, which put him about an inch or two shorter than Jack.

Milner said, “Director Newton and I went to the North Precinct looking for you and were told you were back teaching at Georgia Tech.”

“My position with the department was temporary,” Jack said. “How can I help you?”

Before proceeding, Milner looked to the deputy director. She nodded for him to continue.

“Two days ago a cable car at Stone Mountain fell, killing seven people.”

“I saw that on the news.”

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t an accident,” Milner said.

“Oh?”

“Both Interpol and the Bureau have been tracking an individual known as the Sandman for some time now. He appeared on the scene after you left us, so you’ve probably never heard of him. He’s thought to be responsible for as many as twelve assassinations in eight different countries over the past few years. The Israelis gave him his name because of some situation in the desert.”

Jack glanced at Beth and Pappas and read nothing in their faces. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against a boulder waiting for Milner to continue.

“We received information from an informant that the Sandman was hired to make a hit on one of the cable car’s passengers.”

“Hired by who?” Jack asked.

“A man named Sergei Borov. I’ll get to him in a minute.”

Janet Newton said, “One of the people killed Friday was a doctor named George Lawrence. He and his wife, Rachel, are, or were, scheduled to testify next week before a grand jury along with their partner, Willis Landry. In light of what happened, I’ll have to check on where that is now. Rachel Lawrence and Landry are also doctors. It was simply a stroke of luck she wasn’t on the tram when it went down.”

“What about Landry?”

“He was at his office seeing patients.”

“Good. So what makes them important?”

“Approximately four weeks ago, strictly by chance, all three observed Borov meeting with a bank official in an underground parking lot. Borov was seen passing a briefcase to the man. We think this will tie into the U.S. Attorney’s money laundering case. We’re talking about a lot of money.”

“But you don’t know what’s in the briefcase,” Jack said.

“Not yet,” Milner said. “We expect to develop that shortly. A federal judge just issued a search warrant for the banker’s home and computer this morning. He works with National Guarantee & Trust, Borov’s bank.”

“Doesn’t seem like a lot to go on,” Jack said.

“You’ve had less,” Janet Newton pointed out.

A look passed between them that Beth picked up on. Obviously, there was some meaning behind the comment, which only irritated her further. The deputy director had mentioned she knew Jack but never said anything about them working together. But it was neither the time nor the place to make an issue of it.

Dan Pappas added, “White Collar Crimes and Vice have been after Borov for some time now, but they’ve never been able to make anything stick. He owns a chemical plant in Duluth that manufactures lawn and garden products. You’ve probably seen his stuff in stores.

“One of Todd’s men, an agent named Gabe Alonso, was assigned to follow Borov regarding the feds’ investigation. Unfortunately, Alonso’s suddenly dropped off the face of the earth. The Bureau called Captain Baxter and asked if we would stop by his house to check on him. Beth and I went out. Everything looked fine, except there’s no sign of the guy. His car’s still in the garage and from the food in the microwave, it looked like he was just sitting down to eat.”

Milner added unnecessarily, “Agents on duty are supposed to check in regularly.”

Jack nodded and asked if anything unusual was recovered at the home.

“Beth collected a number of samples and brought them to the lab. Furman’s been doing the work-up. As of an hour ago, there was nothing significant.”

It was still early in the day, but the big detective looked like he’d been wearing his suit for a week.

“And your source indicated this Borov hired the Sandman to eliminate the witnesses,” Jack said.

Pappas nodded. “Borov’s bad news. Dave Childers was running a snitch who’s on the inside of his operation. He heard a rumor about
a hit that took place in New York involving a senator’s aide on the congressional foreign affairs committee. The aide was killed by a hit and run in the Bronx last week. Three days later, the snitch’s house burned down with him in it. We’re assisting New York’s homicide investigation in cooperation with Todd’s people.”

Milner said, “Some of the chemical products Detective Pappas mentioned have made their way into the hands of the Syrian government who’ve been using them to gas their own people. On top of that, Borov’s also branched out into weapons and electronics.”

“Is there anything that ties him to the crimes?” Jack asked.

“Nobody testifies against him,” Milner said, shaking his head. “The FAA confirmed he was in New York City at the time the aide was killed, but that’s as close as we can get. There are also a series of phone calls we picked up from the pen registers on the aide’s phone that make references to someone called ‘The Russian.’”

“So what does this have to do with me?” Jack asked.

“You’ve been on the job before, so you know this kind of killer. It doesn’t take much to imagine the problems we’re facing. Now that the Sandman’s entered the picture, things have gotten immensely more complicated. The witnesses need to be protected and he needs to be stopped.”

Several seconds passed. Jack waited for Milner to continue, thinking he was going to ask him to analyze a piece of evidence. Nothing happened. He looked from one person to another for an explanation. No one spoke. The answer dawned on him a moment later.

“By me?”

“You, Professor.”

“You’re crazy. I’ve been out of the game for almost eight years.”

“That’s not quite accurate. Detectives Sturgis and Pappas said you were instrumental in stopping that serial killer—the Scarecrow’s apprentice—several months ago.”

Jack turned to Beth Sturgis who merely raised her eyebrows. Her face was the picture of innocence.

“That’s because she kidnapped me,” Jack said, pointing at Beth.

Milner smiled. “I heard about Ms. Sturgis’s technique. Chief Ritson told us you performed admirably during the investigation.”

That probably wasn’t what Ritson said. On at least two occasions, he had accused Jack of being a loose cannon and threatened to fire him.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Jack said. “You have hundreds of qualified people—”

“Professor, the clock’s ticking. We can’t afford to lose these witnesses,” said Milner.

“Look, I’m flattered,” Jack said. “I just don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

He turned to Janet Newton for support. She responded by motioning with her head toward the door, indicating she wanted to speak in private. Jack looked at Beth, but her face remained neutral as they moved off.

W
hen they were out of earshot, Jack asked, “What’s really going on here, Janet?”

“It’s pretty simple. We want your help.”

From prior experience, things were never
pretty simple
with Janet Newton. She was self-directed, confident, and like an arctic icebreaker, prepared to plow through any obstacles to achieve a result. She was also a damn good cop.

She said, “The past is the past. From my standpoint, you’ve more than wiped the slate clean. It’s time to rejoin the living, Jack.”

He knew she was right but chose to ignore the reference to his final case with the Bureau. After that madman Howard Pell had killed his young partner, Jack’s evisceration of the killer during their fight at Cloudland Canyon had gotten the Bureau sued. “Why me?”

“Because nobody thinks the way you do. I speak from personal experience.”

Jack started to respond, but the deputy director held up her hand for him to wait.

“Let me put my cards on the table. We’re stumped by the Sandman and fresh out of ideas. An investigation lasting six years has almost nothing to show for it. The man’s an enigma our best profilers can’t get a handle on. What little we do know indicates he’s brilliant and adept at changing his appearance. He gains weight, loses weight. Has a scar one day, it’s gone the next. His hair is blond on Monday and black on Tuesday. He’s also a genius at getting inside no matter
how many precautions are taken. To put it bluntly, if he wants you dead, you’re dead. Frankly, he scares the hell out of me.”

The unspoken part of her message was beginning to dawn on him. “You’re getting pressure from upstairs,” Jack said.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, and it extends all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue. The grand jury convenes in six days and the U.S. Attorney is all over us to know what we’re doing. We’re dealing with the most ruthless and efficient killer we’ve ever been up against. I’m not saying this lightly. He’ll use anybody or do anything to achieve his goal. My counterparts in MI5, France, Israel, and Russia all share this view. Bad doesn’t begin to describe this man.”

Jack looked down at his feet for several seconds, then said, “Janet, it’s not that I don’t want to help. It’s just—”

“I meant what I said. The past is the past. You’re not responsible for what happened to Connie Belasco. No one ever thought you were except you.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he said quietly.

Janet Newton ignored the comment. “Milner was telling you the truth. Noah Ritson did have some good things to say about you. He was also candid and mentioned you were enrolled in NA for a prescription medication problem. How’s that going?”

“Day by day, as with any addiction.”

“Good. Is it under control?”

“As much as it can be,” Jack said.

“Understood. What else do I need to know?”

This was typical of her. Charge straight ahead and manage any problem on the fly. Still hoping to step away gracefully from the situation, Jack decided to tell her about his panic attacks. She listened thoughtfully while he spoke.

“But you say they’ve tapered off over the last few months,” Janet said.

“I thought we had a handle on what was causing them, but apparently that’s not the case. They could show up at any time and put people at risk.”

“Or they might continue to abate as you get better.”

“Yes, but—”

*

It was a little-known fact that the FBI vetted their own profilers and had been doing so for years. Janet Newton knew a great deal about what made Jack Kale tick. Perhaps more than he did about himself. She surprised him by asking, “Does your job interest you, Jack?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“A simple and straightforward one. Does your job interest you? Your life? A few months ago, you helped catch a serial killer and promptly went back to teaching. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Now I find you here in a cave examining the remains of three people who died when the world was young. What happens next? Back to the classroom again to mark time until the next mystery pops up? I’m really curious.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said.

“I do.”

“Really?”

“It’s here now, standing in front of you. I’m offering you a second chance. Trust me, they don’t come around that often. Take it. You have a choice. I just don’t think letting your mind fade away by degrees is what you were meant for. Do you?”

Her words struck home as she knew they would. Jack Kale had been given three gifts that made him a great profiler: meticulous attention to detail, an incredible instinct to see how seemingly unrelated facts about a person’s psychological makeup came together, and an almost obsessive desire to take things apart and see how they worked. A problem without a solution was something incomplete and unacceptable to him. His dishes were never left in the sink, and his books were always put away.

Janet had known this man for a long time, and one trait always stood out: a desire to test himself almost to the point of compulsion. She doubted that had changed over the years.

The deputy director reached out and took Jack’s forearm. “Some time ago I offered to bring you back into the Bureau. Frankly, it’s where you belong. That offer is still on the table. If you want a way in, this is it. I’d also consider it a personal favor.”

*

Marvelous,
he thought.

Janet was right about one point. Ever since the serial murders several months ago, he’d settled back into his role of teaching sophomores at Georgia Tech introductory criminology. It was safe, secure, without conflict, and frankly, boring. Against his own inclinations, like a race horse responding to the sound of a starting trumpet, he felt a tick of excitement about matching wits with an opponent like the Sandman. He heard Janet’s words and understood the threat this man posed, but they were just that . . . words. Whoever he was, Jack had no feel for him. At the moment, he was merely an abstract concept.

Jack glanced across the room at Beth, wanting to know what she was thinking. The events of several months ago, along with their romantic involvement, had set his feet on a road he wasn’t sure he should go down anymore. Still . . .

“How do you see my role?” he asked.

“Most of what I’ve been doing with the Bureau has been regional, so this position is a little new to me. I’ve been at it less than a month. This is Milner’s case, which means you’ll be working together. My impression is he’s smart and resourceful. He’s also going off the wall because Gabe Alonso was one of his men. Todd knows we’re in trouble and is willing to step aside and let you take over. Right now, there are too many agencies involved, the ATF, DEA, us, the Atlanta cops, not to mention Homeland. If you say yes, I’ll make it happen. You’ll be classified as a returning agent, on a six month trial. I’ll postpone the medical, physical fitness, and weapons exams until sometime down the road. Right now, we need a profiler to understand what makes the Sandman tick.”

Jack shook his head and informed her, “Profiling is only part of the picture. It sounds like magic when it works as long as you tally the successes. But it’s only part of the whole. By itself, it’s one of three legs on a stool. Put it together with solid forensic analysis and sound investigative technique and you’ve got something workable.”

Jack broke off what he was saying. He was preaching to the choir. Janet Newton had a string of successes to her credit and was one of the best investigators he’d ever worked with. She was smiling, already confident his decision had been made.

“What else?” she asked.

“I’d like Sturgis and Pappas to work with me. We make a good team.”

“Done,” Janet said, extending her hand.

Jack accepted it, conscious he was allowing himself to be swept up by the tide. But the deputy director didn’t release his hand immediately.

“You’ll report directly to me, rather than going through a lead agent or the SAC. If push comes to shove and Milner won’t go along with your decisions, let me know and I’ll pave the way.”

That made sense on at least one level. Janet Newton was not the type to relinquish control, particularly where it might involve her future.

“Not a problem,” Jack said.

“Fine. Let’s not keep the others waiting.”

When they returned, she informed them, “Jack’s agreed to head up the investigation. He’ll be working with Special Agent Milner. Assuming your department agrees,” she said, turning to Beth and Pappas, “we’d like both of you assigned to the task force. Whatever backup or support is needed, if your department can’t furnish it, we will.”

“We’ll have to clear that with the bosses,” Pappas told her.

“Leave that to me,” Janet said.

Jack looked at Beth and Pappas trying to gauge their reaction. Beth shrugged. Pappas raised his thumb indicating the decision was fine with him.

The deputy director went on. “After the arrest is made, and an arrest will be made, APD and the Bureau can share credit. We don’t need any turf battles. The important thing is to keep those people alive, and nail Borov and his assassin.”

Now that the words were out, Jack felt a strange sense of relief. For the past several months, if not the past several years, it seemed like he’d been treading water. He wasn’t sure returning to the FBI was the answer. Police work had its highs, but there was also a downside, at least for him. Much of the time he and Beth had been chasing the Scarecrow’s apprentice, he’d been sick to his stomach. Nevertheless, there was no denying he also felt alive again while the hunt was on. Strange. It might be worth discussing this with his doctor.

“Where are the witnesses now?” Jack asked.

Pappas told him, “Dr. Lawrence is at home making funeral arrangements for her husband. I assigned a uniform to stay with her.”

“Good. As long as she’s secure, I’d like to look at the evidence Beth recovered at Alonso’s home.” He then turned to Milner: “If your people have recovered any of the bomb parts, I’d like to see them, as well.”

“There won’t be much left,” Milner said. “What little we have has been turned over to APD’s crime lab. It’s been difficult because the area under the lift is dense forest.”

“I’m familiar with it,” Jack said. “If we need more help, bring in as many cops as necessary. I don’t care if we have to draft a troop of Boy Scouts. I want that bomb.”

Milner nodded. “Anything else?”

“Not at the moment,” Jack said. “Let’s get to work.”