Supervisory Special Agent Neil Camden, head of the Vizzini Criminal Enterprise Task Force, didn’t enjoy being reamed out. Least of all by the head of the entire New York Field Office
But that was precisely what was going on at the moment.
His superior at Headquarters, James Kirkpatrick, Section Chief of Criminal Enterprises for the Americas, had been advised in advance of this meeting. He wasn’t happy. Still, given how many resources had been poured into this operation, it didn’t come as a surprise. What it did do was make Camden feel more ineffective.
“What have you and your team been doing?” Assistant Director in Charge Gary Linden demanded. “I went out on a limb with this. I expected results. This is a priority investigation. We have limited time and even more limited funds.”
“I understand that, sir.” SSA Camden could feel a fine sheen of perspiration form on his brow. “We have made progress. We know for a fact that Lyle Fenton is involved.”
A brief nod. “No surprises there.”
“Also, the video feed we planted in John Morano’s office caught his payoffs to the mob. We ran the pictures. They’re definitely from the Vizzini family. And, since the Vizzinis own the union leaders, there won’t be any construction until the Vizzinis are happy with the terms.”
“Great,” Linden said sarcastically. “None of this is news. The reason I let your task force pick this up isn’t to catch some punks collecting bribes or some mob bosses controlling union workers. What we really need to know is who’s behind this whole operation.
Camden nodded. “I realize that, sir. And we’re right on the brink. We just need a little more time.”
“We’re running out of time. And money. So you need to figure out who’s behind all this and find the evidence we need to convict him. And not soon, Camden. Yesterday.”
Closeted in Amanda’s apartment, Casey and Marc situated themselves on the living-room sofa and dialed into their conference line at the agreed-upon time.
“Everyone here?” Casey began.
“Yup,” Ryan replied, speaking for the group. “All present and accounted for. Right down to Hero, who’s eating my trail mix and slobbering on my shoes.”
“Good. Patrick, let’s start with you, since I’ve already caught up with Marc, who’ll fill you in later. What did you find in D.C.?”
Succinctly, Patrick relayed his day’s findings, starting with the less-promising lead at the coffee shop, and moving on to the more significant revelations he’d gained from the lunch between Fenton and Mercer. “I’m hoping to hear back from that waitress, Evelyn, soon,” he concluded. “I was concerned that if I hung around much longer I’d scare Paul Everett off-assuming it’s him who’s frequenting that coffee shop. So that lead’s a maybe-although Evelyn did seem pretty certain it was Everett. That having been said, my lunch was a real eye-opener.”
“That’s an understatement,” Casey agreed. “Least of all because Mercer’s clearly in Fenton’s pocket, which doesn’t come as a huge surprise. But let’s concentrate on the real issue at hand-Fenton’s slamming Mercer against a wall by dragging him back home to get tested as a potential donor for Justin. That’s not fueled by political manipulation. It’s very personal, and very pointed. Not to mention the fact that Fenton is also demanding that Mercer’s kids get tested. From what you just said, Patrick, Mercer’s wife was an afterthought, just to keep up appearances.”
“You got it.” Patrick’s tone was intense. “I caught the whole thing on my iPad so you can check it out yourself. In addition, I’ve followed up since then. An hour after their lunch, Mercer’s PR department issued a press release stating that whole BS story Fenton spouted at lunch. Sounds like a heroic gesture on the part of a congressman and his family to save a dying infant whose mother is part of Mercer’s local constituency. The Hamptons press will be swarming around that hospital tomorrow morning, snapping photos of the compassionate, heroic congressman, and writing articles filled with accolades.”
“No doubt. But we all know that Mercer’s motives aren’t based on altruism.” Casey paused. “Ryan…”
“Already on it,” Ryan came back. “My facial recognition software and I are hard at work. I’m comparing Fenton’s features, bone structure, etc. to Mercer’s. If there are any physical traits that suggest a genetic tie, I’ll find them. I’ve also pulled up whatever photos I can of the twins. Their Facebook pics are good, but not good enough for me. I’m going after better ones. I want to be as precise as possible, so I can catch even the slightest resemblance between Fenton and the Mercer crew. Not to worry. I’ll hack into whatever network’s necessary. I’ll have what I need within the hour.”
“I never doubted it.” Casey chewed her lip thoughtfully. “This changes Marc’s and my priorities when we see Fenton tonight.”
“It sure as hell adds to the long list of them,” Marc commented.
His voice made Claire chime in on a different matter. “Marc, you picked up on something in the Hamptons. Something in your meeting with John Morano. What was it?”
“She’s not being Claire-voyant,” Ryan clarified in that “gotcha” tone he reserved only for Claire. “I told her what Marc said when he called in. She also got a glimpse of the research I was doing into Morano’s and Everett’s backgrounds. So her question is based on facts, not psychic inspiration.”
Claire gave an exasperated sigh. “I was asking a question, Ryan. Not issuing a proclamation.”
“Just making sure that was clear.”
“It was,” Marc reassured him with a wry grin. “As for Morano, the guy is way too scripted. And way too blase about Paul Everett and any connection his murder might have had to the development of that five-star hotel. Something’s up. I’m just not sure what.”
“I’m still running those background checks on Morano and Everett, digging up every detail I can.” Ryan scanned the results of his work. “I’ve checked the trade groups each of them was affiliated with, any certifications they may have, and the companies they’ve worked with and for. I did a detailed analysis of their finances, right down to where they do their banking. Next, I’m moving on to their families, including any estranged relatives who might know each other. From there, I’ll dig into their full educational backgrounds. I’ll include all the activities that accompanied their academics, from summer camp to sports teams. I’ll go back to friggin’ kindergarten, if I have to. But, as of now, I don’t see Everett’s and Morano’s paths crossing, or even being mentioned in the same paragraph.”
“Not until the hotel project and the controversy around it,” Marc guessed.
“You got it. Once that came into play, the newspapers jumped on the story of the infiltration of the Citidiots and the divided opinions of the locals. But even in those articles, Morano and Everett are discussed as separate entities. Everett was killed. Morano picked up the reins. Period.”
“Do the newspapers get into Everett’s murder at all?” Casey broke in to ask. “Any speculation as to who killed him?”
“A paragraph on the unsolved homicide-but the tone was more dramatic than it was speculative. You know, like was Paul Everett an innocent victim or was he a high roller who got in with the wrong crowd and paid the ultimate price? Clearly that was old news, so it wasn’t the focus of the articles. The building of the hotel was.”
“Remember, no one paid much attention to Paul’s murder,” Marc reminded them. “That’s why Amanda brought me next to nothing mediawise when she first met with me. Paul wasn’t a celebrity. He was just a shrewd real- estate developer who happened to buy into a good thing. There was no construction under way, so most of the public didn’t even know about his plans for the hotel. Only the locals. And they’d have no reason to connect his murder with a project that hadn’t even gotten off the ground.”
“Clearly,” Patrick concurred. “Or the police would have pursued that angle more thoroughly. They didn’t.” A pause. “Of course, there are people who can pull off that kind of murder without leaving any leading evidence behind.”
