“Rather than burden you with the need to keep us posted, why don’t we just assign an agent to you as liaison? If you’ll allow him to monitor the interview, and to keep pace with your investigation in case you turn up more valuable information…”
“That’d be fine.” I said that an instant before I caught George’s stricken look.
“Excellent.” He looked around the crowded little office as if he were making a choice. So he had overheard George in the hallway.
“I think we can spare Agent Pollard, here. He’s up to speed on lots of things. He’ll remain attached to you for the duration.” He smiled, very pleased with himself. “I’m sure he won’t be in your way.”
“We’ll consider ourselves lucky to have him,” I said, and I meant that.
George looked crestfallen. I didn’t know where the plane they referred to had come from, or where it was going, but I was sure that George had originally been intended as one of the passengers. This could really hurt his career.
Volont looked perplexed, but since he hadn’t heard what George had said, he had no idea about the main reason for Hawse assigning an agent to us. “You okay with that, George?”
George had absolutely no choice. “Fine with me,” he said, and managed to make it sound convincing.
“Well,” said Volont, “as long as you’re okay with it, why don’t you also take on the press relations over in Nation County? The media won’t be able to find us for quite a while, and we want them to think the locus of the investigation is still over there. If that’d be all right?”
“Excellent idea,” said Hawse.
“Oh, sure,” said George. “Fine. Absolutely.”
“Good,” said Volont. “Now, don’t lie to ‘em or anything like that. Don’t even mislead ‘em. Just don’t acknowledge what else is going on until we give you the word.”
“Look what the FBI gave me,” I said as we joined Hester and Harry. George half waved, sheepishly. “Hi, gang.”
“Shit,” said Harry. “Who’d you piss off?” He was kidding.
“Hawse,” said George, who wasn’t. “Big time.”
“The rest of the federal group is flying out in about ten minutes,” I said. “We have permission to do Skripkin again if we need to, but George has to monitor. And George is to handle media for the feds over in Nation County. Volont wants the media to think that we’re still the focus of the investigation.”
“Sound,” said Hester.
“Where they gettin’ a plane? “asked Harry. Conception County Airport had just extended its paved runway, but so far there were no business flights actually based there.
“Hawse had one on standby in Milwaukee,” said George. “Corporate jet kind of thing. Contracted to the Bureau.”
“Hot shit,” said Harry. “Must be nice.”
At that point, the door opened, and Volont, Hawse, and Gwen Thurgood squeezed in.
“We have to be leaving,” Hawse told us. “But we wanted you to know that we really appreciate all the good work you’ve done on this case. Really. It’s excellent. If there’s anything you need,” he said, “let us know. We’re going to be concentrating in other areas, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, but we’re as close as your phone, as they say.”
“What he means,” translated Volont, “is that if you turn up any more good stuff, be sure to contact us.”
Hawse smiled. “That, too. But if you do need something, I’ll do everything in my power to see that you get it.”
The “Flying Feds,” as Harry now called them, hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes when one of the Conception County secretaries stuck her head into the room.
“Is one of you Deputy Houseman?”
“Me,” I said.
“I have a teletype message for you that says that the ‘missing plant workers’ are starting to drift back into Battenberg.”
It was about time. “Thanks,” I said.
“Is there still a federal agent here?”
“Yeah,” said George. “That’s me.”
“Then this is for you,” she said, handing George a manila file folder. “That other FBI guy, the old one, requested this about an hour ago.”
George thanked her, looked at the teletype information in the folder, and smiled. “Thanks.” The secretary left, and George skimmed the papers in the folder. “Well, at least his name really is Skripkin,” he said. “Based on fingerprint records. Nothing in the States. Nothing in Russia, or any of the former states of the Soviet Union. But he really is wanted…in the U.K., by the London Metropolitan Police.”
“What for? “asked Hester.
“Apparently passing counterfeit securities and counterfeit bonds, and something they refer to as ‘other suspected offenses of a subversive nature.’ We better call on this one.”
“Call who?” asked Harry.
“The Metropolitan Police, for starters,” said George.
“I hope you brought your fuckin’ phone card,” said Harry.
“Don’t worry, Harry,” said George. “Uncle Sam’s picking up the tab on this one.”
The Metropolitan Police were quite cooperative. George, just to share the fun, put them on the speakerphone while they talked.
“Oh, yes,” said Inspector Blythe, with a very British accent. “Lived in a tatty flat in Lambeth with a half dozen others. They styled themselves the ‘People’s Freedom and Reform Movement.’ That was two years ago, when we had contact with our Mr. Skripkin.”
“I hate to jump the gun,” said George, “but was that some sort of. well…terrorist cell, by any chance?”
“Hardly. But I know how you feel since September. We used to feel the same way about the IRA. But, no. We weren’t able to make any connection to a truly functional terrorist organization. The People’s Freedom and Reform Movement’s counterfeiting activities were directed toward some lunatic scheme to destroy our economy by printing up false securities and bonds, in fact. There were many, well, holes in their approach to that.”
“Okay,” said George.
“Their source of income, at the time we had them, was by making their services available as protestors. They were for let to anyone, actually, but they seemed to have a decided preference for any demonstrations against capitalists in general and the European Economic Union in particular.”
“So, that’s the part about ‘other suspected offenses of a subversive nature,’ then?” asked George.
“No, that part’s a direct reference to a stack of Kalashnikovs we found in their flat. We were unable to discover just what it was they actually intended to Jo with the things. There was no ammunition present. Our Mr. Skripkin denied any association with that part of the scheming. They all did, at first. We filed charges on four of them for the weapons. Mr. Skripkin’s fingerprints were found on several of the weapons. He was on bond, awaiting trial, when he fled the U.K. He would have been deported eventually, at any rate. We didn’t feel a loss. Interestingly enough, we came up with a dead trace on the Kalashnikovs. Chinese manufacture, originally. Turned up next in Libya, in fact. Then, if I remember, Spain. No routing available after that. So you might have a connection to bona fide terrorists through the weapons, but it would be tenuous at best. And, truthfully, I wouldn’t have the vaguest notion which direction you’d even start, over there.”
“And cold, to boot,” said George.
“By the way, would you mind telling me your interest in him? You obviously have his latents at hand.”
“We have him in custody here, on a state charge of conspiracy to commit a murder.”
“Really? He actually went through with it, then?”
“He sure did,” said George. “He was five feet from a man who was murdered execution-style. Near contact shotgun wound to the head. He’d helped bind and restrain him.”
There was a chuckle from Blythe at the other end. “Yes, I’d say that was a conspiracy, indeed. Well, it’s nice to hear that Mr. Skripkin has come up in the world. I’m glad you have got him.”
“We also have a fair link to a more authentic terrorist group. We can keep you posted on that.”
“Excellent.”
