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.’
THIRTY-NINE
But he didn’t go to the FBI Field Office yet. La Rosa called and said Ryan Candel was at the Homicide office and in the family waiting area reading a magazine as if waiting for a dental appointment. The Homicide office had a tiny lobby. It was like walking into a phone booth with an ATM and a door in it. Once you got through the door the family waiting room was on the left. There was a couch, a chair, a coffee table with some magazines. There wasn’t a TV but then again it wasn’t a place many people wanted to hang-out.
‘Tell him I’m ten minutes away and ask him to wait. I’m going to ask him to do something for us.’
Candel probably thought about it and decided he wanted to see that video. Went home, thought about it and decided he needed to know if the shooter was or wasn’t his father. When Raveneau walked in he was sitting on the couch texting somebody. He smiled but looked nervous and pale.
‘Does being here make you nervous?’
‘I don’t know but I’ve got to get outside.’
‘How did you get here?’
‘Bus.’
‘I’ll give you a ride. I’ve got to go downtown anyway. Did you come in to see the video?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s short. Do you want to watch it first?’
‘Not really, but yes.’
‘You can watch it on the computer at my desk.’
‘OK.’
That’s what he did. Candel watched it three times and didn’t show any real emotion. Raveneau started it once more and froze the frame on the shooter several times.
‘Have you ever seen a snuff film, Ryan?’
‘At a party once, but I’m definitely not into anything like that.’
‘See the height difference? Your dad was much taller. That’s not your dad.’
‘You’re positive?’
‘Yeah, it’s been looked at by some film experts.’ He waited a beat. ‘I just got back from Hawaii and I learned more about your father. I’ve seen where he lived. He’s dead, Ryan. He died in 2004 of kidney failure at a hospital in Honolulu.’
‘Probably from drinking.’
‘That would more likely be a liver problem. It was more of a long series of complications from being wounded during the Vietnam War. It took some phone calls but I talked to a doctor who remembered him. It seems many people remember him. I found his house and met the man who owns the property. He was a good friend of your dad’s. His name is Tom Casey and that friendship goes back to when they were young and pilots in Vietnam. Casey had your dad’s remains cremated and his ashes are at a memorial not far from the house. I think you should go there.’
‘Why would I want to?’
‘Because he’s been bigger in your life than you acknowledge and it’s time you learn more about him.’
Raveneau popped the CD out and changed the subject.
‘Let me show you our file closet here. It’ll give you more of an idea about us.’
He was going with his gut here. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was doing this. Maybe it was because his own son would have been close to Candel’s age. Maybe he understood being young and a little bit unhappy and misguided. He unlocked the door to the closet. On the shelves to the left were cold case files.
‘Who was Kevin Collins?’
‘He was a boy that went missing and we tried hard to find him. That’s why those two big boxes are up there.’
