between him and the shell companies. If they come up with a definitive link, they’ll arrest him. Until then, he’s officially not a suspect.”
“ Phoenix,” Kelly said suddenly, eyes widening.
“What about it?” Leonard had turned back to his files.
“It’s one of the targets. Has to be.” She could have kicked herself for not thinking of it earlier. If Burke planned on using the attack as a springboard to jettison himself to the next level of political power, he’d need a valid source of righteous indignation. And if an attack happened in his district, he’d be poised to take full advantage when disaster struck.
“You think he’d take out his own constituents?” She had Leonard’s full attention. His shaggy brows knit together.
“Getting back to Hurricane Katrina,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes, but kept listening. “Could anyone outside the state have named the mayor of New Orleans or the governor of Louisiana before? And suddenly they were all over the news. That’s what Burke wants, to develop a following for his pet cause. And if one of the main targets was his home base…”
“He’d have that in spades,” Leonard said slowly. As he lifted the phone receiver, he pointed a finger at her. “Mind you, this doesn’t mean we’re saying he’s connected.”
“Of course not.” Kelly shrugged. “Maybe we got an anonymous tip.”
Leonard grinned as he dialed the Phoenix field office. “For a pain in the ass, you come in useful sometimes, Agent Jones.”
Syd waited by the curb. Less than a minute after she rolled her bag into the taxi zone, a large black Suburban pulled up, Maltz at the wheel. She threw her bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Thanks for coming down here.”
Maltz shrugged. “You’re the boss. Jagerson is still recovering, so I’ve got Fribush and Kane with me.”
Syd glanced back at them. She’d worked with Fribush before. She didn’t know anything about Kane but he looked capable enough. Aside from slight variations in height and hair color, Special Ops guys were basically replicants: same body type, same square jaw, same army/navy surplus attire.
“Kane’s local,” Maltz said. “He thinks most of the floats are assembled in the warehouse district south of town. Figured we’d start there.”
“Sounds good,” Syd said, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. She’d been trained to go for a week straight with less than an hour of sleep a day. Consequently, she could drop off nearly anywhere, at anytime. She’d passed out at takeoff and woke up as the wheels touched ground, but still felt groggy. Just because she could do it didn’t mean she enjoyed it.
“How are the Grants?” Maltz asked.
My, he was chatty today, Syd thought, surprised. “I have no idea,” she said. She didn’t. In fact she’d completely forgotten about them when the FBI made it clear her services were no longer required. And now, with Randall dead, that connection had been broken. “Why do you want to know?”
Maltz shrugged. It was hard to tell with his perpetual ruddiness, but she could swear he was blushing. “They seemed like nice girls. Nice family,” he said
“I guess,” Syd said dubiously, thinking of Audrey. Nice wasn’t the first word that came to mind, but then she hadn’t spent much time with them. Maybe they were nice people to flee through the countryside with. Anything was possible, she supposed.
“You got everything?”
“Most of it,” Maltz replied. “Kane’s got a good base of supplies.”
“Good,” Syd said, relaxing back in her seat. As she watched the passing landscape she ran through possible strategies and scenarios in her mind. The desert sun outside the window burned hot, reminiscent of the countless other sand-blown cities she’d driven through over the years. This one was notably less exotic, however: Phoenix, Arizona.
She was surprised Phoenix hadn’t occurred to the others. It hit her the minute Burke’s name was mentioned. Of course he’d target his hometown-it was the natural choice. In the trailer she’d waited for it to dawn on the Feds. Obviously they didn’t have as much experience with warlords and ambitious generals, since they kept droning on about warehouses and driving radiuses. She’d almost told them, but after the brush-off they’d given her, decided against it. She knew how to stop one of the attacks. And perversely, she decided to help. Hard to say whether this was a knee jerk reaction to being told she was useless, or something else. Maybe it was because as an operative, she’d frequently been forced to stand by and do nothing while all sorts of terrible things happened, since there were “bigger issues at stake.” She’d always hated that expression, it usually meant a slew of innocents were about to draw their last breath and no one really gave a shit.
So here she was, then. Syd Clement, former spook, on a mission to save Phoenix from becoming even more of a barren hellscape than it already was.
“I’ll go in first,” she said, turning to Maltz. “Check each one out. If I need you, I’ll give the signal to move in.”
“You sure? We could split up, it would go faster.”
“If you got what I asked for, this shouldn’t take long at all,” she said, glancing at her watch. Nearly 3:30 p.m. Syd closed her eyes and said, “Wake me when we’re close.”
Thirty-Three
“Bingo,” Rodriguez said.
“You got something?” Jake crossed the room and leaned over his shoulder. There was an image on his computer screen.
“That’s Burke, you moron,” George said.
“No shit, Sherlock. But check out who’s behind him,” Rodriguez retorted.
It was a society picture from a formal event. Burke had his arm around someone identified as a prominent lobbyist, who apparently was no stranger to Botox. And in the background, on the edge of the frame, was a hulking beast of a man. It was hard to tell from the angle, but…Jake compared it with Dante’s mug shot. It was him all right. Square head like a pit bull, shaven bald, looking wildly uncomfortable in a suit a size too small. “When was this taken?” he asked.
“A year ago, at a GOP fund-raiser.”
“Any idea what Dante was doing there?”
“I say we call this lobbyist and ask.”
“We could fax this over to his office, let his secretary have a gander…”
“For all we know Dante is his secretary. And the higher-ups don’t want Burke to get a whiff of this yet.” Jake looked at them. “Do we run this by Leonard?”
“Fuck Leonard,” Rodriguez said forcefully. “Great thing about lobbyists is that they love getting calls, day and night.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Rodriguez.” Jake cracked a smile. “Sorry, George, I have a new favorite agent.”
“I’m all torn up about it.” George rolled his eyes. “Please, promise me you’ll tread carefully. I’m not cut out for the private sector.”
It took all of ten minutes to track down the office number for the lobbyist in the photo, and another five to convince a beleaguered staffer that they needed to speak with him immediately. After outlining what the administration thought of lobbyists who didn’t help the FBI in matters of national security, and how that reflected on pork barrel spending for their clients, a cell phone number was produced.
“Who wants to make the call?” Rodriguez asked, holding up the receiver.
“Dibs.” George put it on speakerphone. The lobbyist answered on the third ring. From the sound of things, there was a full-scale party going on in the background.
“Hello, Mr. Jeffers, this is Special Agent George Fong calling from the FBI. Your name came up in the course of
