“She sounded tired, but otherwise not too bad.”
“Listen, I got that tape of the Bridgestones torturing the two FBI surveillance techs. It’s pretty ugly stuff, but I didn’t hear anything we didn’t already know.”
“Okay.”
“All the techs could tell them was your name and that your father was Stone McBride. Incidentally, our personal info isn’t available. I had Mason try to dig it out. You know DMV, Social Security, IRS. He couldn’t come up with anything. I think we’re okay. They’d need someone on the inside of the DOD with high-level passwords to access anything on us, and I don’t see that happening. Your father’s a different matter. I don’t know how protected his personal information is.”
“Me either,” Nathan said.
“If they’re heading back east, it’s possible they could tail him from one of his public appearances. We should warn him to stay under the radar for the time being and hire some personal security guards.”
“I told him the score. Keep checking Leonard’s contacts. I have a feeling one of them is our financial insider. We’re looking for someone within a day’s drive, two max.”
“The list is pretty long, several hundred. And that’s a lot of territory to cover, basically the western third of the country.”
“You might need to call ASAC Breckensen and ask for some help.”
“I definitely will.”
“Does the FBI have a temporary field office up and running yet?”
“I don’t know. I’ll find out. Their building isn’t a total loss, but there’s no way they can operate out of there in its present condition. What about you? What’s next?”
“Fresno. We’ll be airborne in half an hour. I’ll call once we know something.”
Fifteen minutes later, everyone was boarding the Lear. As Nathan climbed the stairs, he looked at First Officer Williamson and decided to play his hand. Time for this covert bullshit to end. Nathan spoke in Arabic.
Williamson narrowed his eyes, but the spark of recognition in his expression couldn’t be hidden. Nathan knew he was considering his options. There were two. Continue playing the game or come clean. Henning turned at hearing Bridgestone’s name in a sentence spoken in Arabic.
Williamson came clean. “Understood,” he answered in Arabic. “I am just doing my job. For what is it worth, I am not real happy about it.”
Williamson headed for the cockpit.
“What did you say to him?” Henning asked.
“I told him the same thing I told you the first time we met, that we’re on the same side and my only goal is to find the Bridgestones.”
Henning’s expression was genuinely puzzled and Nathan now believed he didn’t know Williamson had been assigned as a watchdog. He wasn’t sure before.
“How did you know he spoke Arabic?”
“When I spoke to the cabdriver early this morning, I didn’t see any reaction from him at all. None. Most people show some degree of surprise.”
Henning lowered his voice. “You think Lansing brought him on board to keep an eye on things? To spy on you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Why bring in someone who speaks Arabic? Al Qaeda isn’t involved with the Sacramento bombing. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if you consider Harv also speaks Arabic.”
“Good grief,” Henning said. “Sometimes I think there’s no limit to the cloak-and-dagger bullshit in this business.”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s a safe play on Lansing’s part. There’s a lot at stake. He was concerned I might speak in a foreign language with Harv to hide things we discover about the Bridgestones. I’d be willing to bet Williamson also speaks Russian. Probably Spanish too. We aren’t going to conceal anything from you guys. If your people find the Bridgestones before we do, that’s fine with me. Don’t get me wrong, we’d love some quality time with them, but finding them is the primary goal.”
In the cockpit, Williamson lowered his voice. “He knows.”
“Is it going to be a problem?” Jenkins asked.
“He seemed okay about it.”
Jenkins was flipping avionic switches from a checklist as he spoke. “As far as I’m concerned, nothing’s changed. We keep reporting to Lansing as ordered.”
“Do we tell Lansing he knows?”
“Not unless we want egg on our faces,” Jenkins said. “He’d view McBride’s discovery as a blunder on our part.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that. McBride seems like a decent guy. It’s not hard to guess how he got those scars on his face. They aren’t random and he sure didn’t get them from any chainsaw accident.”
Jenkins started the engines, keeping his eyes on the gauges. “I think you’re right, he’s a spook. Someone carved him during an interrogation. Had to be hell.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Twenty minutes into the flight, Henning used the air phone to call Holly again. Nathan looked over, but there was no way to put the call on speaker. After a brief conversation, he hung up.
“She made contact with ASAC Pallamary from the Fresno resident agency. An agent’s going to meet us at the airport.”
“You okay with that?” Nathan asked.
“I just follow orders.”
Nathan heard the frustration in Henning’s voice. “Don’t read anything into it. Like I said, there’s a lot at stake.”
Henning didn’t respond, he just leaned back and stared straight ahead. Nathan felt for the guy, but knew the extra measures being taken by Lansing and Holly weren’t a reflection on Henning’s competence or loyalty. Although Nathan wasn’t familiar with FBI methods of operation, he figured it was probably standard procedure to double up on field assets whenever possible to ensure the best chance of success. Even though he preferred working alone, he’d play along for now. The FBI Lear was too big an asset to turn down. He figured having a federal ball and chain in the form of Bruce Henning was the price of admission, but he couldn’t in all honesty discount the help he’d received from Henning so far. If the time came to cut ties with his FBI friends, so be it, but for now, he was comfortable with the status quo.
The Lear touched down in Fresno a little after noon, local time. As it taxied to the general aviation transient parking area, Nathan admired the F-16C Falcons parked next to the Air National Guard hangar. They were beautiful machines, pure in form and function. Although he couldn’t imagine it, he wondered if flying them ever got old.
After Jenkins parked the Lear, Nathan spotted a man standing next to a plain sedan in front of a long hangar building. Their FBI contact. He was reasonably sure the agent assigned to them would’ve been briefed on their objective and the rules of engagement. He had no expectations about the agent’s attitude, but hoped it wouldn’t be a repeat of a few nights ago when he’d first met Bruce Henning. Because the director of the FBI had given him the use of a Lear, he hoped this new agent would show some discretion. Nathan had to admit there was a definite feeling of importance associated with traveling by Lear. He could get used to this.
As the Lear’s engines wound down to idle, First Officer Williamson appeared and opened the fuselage door and they said their good-byes. Unlike Fort Leavenworth, the air was dry. A bright afternoon greeted Nathan as he followed Henning onto the tarmac. Several dozen private planes were parked to their right.
Dressed in tan slacks and dark-blue Windbreaker to conceal his sidearm, their FBI contact began walking toward them. In his mid-forties, he had cropped thinning hair with a touch of gray at the temples. Former cop or
