The Bricklayer

SEVEN

VAIL SAT AT THE DESK IN HIS D.C. HOTEL ROOM READING FROM THE from the Rubaco Pentad case, including crime-scene photos, lab reports, and surveillance logs, had been downloaded into it. For such a clandestine operation, an incredible amount of material had been reduced to writing. As he took another bite of the cold room-service hamburger, there was a knock at the door.
It was Kate. Although holding a briefcase with both hands in front of her, indicating her visit was official, she had changed clothes and was wearing a dress and heels. “Hi,” she said, and walked in, looking around. “How’s the room?”
“You’ve seen my apartment, how good does it have to be?”
“Good, good,” she said distractedly. “Is there anything else you need?”
“What are you offering?” he said in a playful voice.
“Equipment, bricklayer, equipment. Like an agent’s handbook or a pair of brass knuckles.”
“I’m not the kind of person who thinks about his obituary, but I’d hate for it to read, ‘He died because he brought a laptop to a gunfight.’”
“Okay, I’ll get you a weapon,” she said. “We’ll need to get you to a firearms range to qualify.”
“Do you really think there’s time for that?”
“It’s pretty much an unbreakable rule. You know, lawsuits.”
“Isn’t it my job to break rules?”
After a moment, she said, “Okay, I’ll have it for you tomorrow. I’ve ordered up a Bureau plane. I assume we’ll be flying to Las Vegas to try to pick up Bertok’s trail.”
“I was thinking more like L.A.”
“Why L.A.?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Call it a hunch. And don’t think that the Cubs having three games with the Dodgers this week has anything to do with it.”
Kate studied Vail’s face and found the same unreadable expression he presented when asked about anything he didn’t want to answer. She was sure of one thing: his decision to start in Los Angeles had nothing to do with baseball or intuition. He had found some way to track Bertok that no one else had thought of. “You know this is going to be a lot easier if we don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“Cosmo says that a little mystery can keep a relationship from getting stale.”
“There are only a few things in life that are unquestionable. That you’ve never read Cosmopolitan magazine is one of the most certain. Why L.A.?”
“First of all, it’s about as far away from your boss as we can get. I know his type and I know my type. We’ve all seen how that movie ends.”
“And second of all?”
“Simple math. How many times have each of the following locations come up in the case: New Hampshire, Pittsburgh, Utah, Arizona, and Las Vegas?”
“Once each.”
“And Los Angeles?”
“I don’t know, a half dozen?”
“Everything from the first victim to the postmarks on both demand letters to Bertok. Besides, I want to search his apartment again.”
“Why?”
“The biggest mistake agents make is believing that because something was done once, it was done right.” Kate nodded in agreement. “Now, what do we know about Stanley Bertok’s personal life?” he asked.
“We’ve interviewed his supervisor. He described him as suffering from what he calls ‘the dysfunctional twos.’”
“What’s that?”
“Too much booze, too little money, and two ex-wives. He thinks Bertok may have seen an opportunity to downsize his problems and taken it.”
“And psychologically?”
“Intelligent but brooding. No friends and not the world’s most dedicated agent.”
“But nothing to explain why our little band of terrorists picked him to make the drop. If they knew him well enough to ask for him, wouldn’t they have to assume he was a risk to take off with the money?”
“Which leads us right back to him and the Pentad being one and the same, or at least being in it together.”
“For something so well planned, this has some conspicuously dangling loose ends.”
“Haven’t you heard, there’s no such thing as a perfect crime.”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t have to be perfect to get away with it.”


EXPLAINING TO KATE that he had been up the entire night reading the contents of the Rubaco Pentad file, Vail slept during the entire flight to Los Angeles. After they landed at one of the secure runways used by government planes coming into LAX, Kate had to wake him. As Vail stepped off the plane and into the blinding white light of the Southern California sun, he couldn’t help but stretch himself against its silky warmth. The sky was a different blue than that of Chicago or even Washington. A thin band of gray-orange haze at the horizon separated it from the earth.
Parked a hundred feet away was a dark green sedan. A seemingly stoic man in his thirties wearing a tailored summer-weight suit was walking toward their plane. He had the practiced expression of someone whose first priority was that of confident congeniality, suggesting he was part of the office management team. He came up to Kate and offered his hand. “Allen Sabine,” he said. Kate took his hand and introduced him to Vail. The two men shook hands. Sabine’s dark hair had been carefully cut, and he stood with a practiced slouch that angled his face away to mask a long, sharp nose. He tried to take her bag, but she smiled graciously and said she needed the exercise. Sabine pointed at the sedan. “This is the vehicle we rented for you while you’re here. It has the GPS navigational system you requested. We also put in a complete set of maps for most of Southern California. The SAC is available to meet with you anytime this morning.”
“Okay,” Kate said, “let’s get it over with.” She said to Vail, “The SAC is Mark Hildebrand. Ever run into him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“He seems okay, a little territorial on the phone when I told him we were coming out.”
“Territorial’s not all bad. Maybe he actually cares about what happens in his division.”
“You’re irritatingly positive after your nap.”
“Sorry. Give me a few minutes with him, and I’m sure I’ll be as good as new.”
They got in the car, Kate in the front and Vail in the back. She handed him a Glock model 22 encased in a holster, with two extra clips. Then with just enough ceremony to be sarcastic, she handed him an operation manual for the weapon. “I thought you should at least know how to load it.”
“You could have given me this before we took off.”
“You were asleep. Plus, I was curious whether you’d ask for it, and since you haven’t been checked out, I didn’t want you practicing your quick draw on the plane and accidentally shooting me or the pilot.”
“I would have been careful not to shoot you. I can imagine the paperwork involved.” She handed him a credit card and then a cell phone. “Speaking of paperwork, don’t I need to sign for all this?”
She lowered her voice. “After your little speech to the director about it being just a matter of time until you ran amok, I thought it would be better if none of these items were traceable to you, or more important, us.”
“Sometimes you scare me.”
“If only that were true.”
They were now proceeding north on the 405. The traffic was heavy, so they moved in and out of bottlenecks. When an opening presented itself, everyone drove as fast as possible. Vail couldn’t help but notice that the cars were in remarkable condition. The vast majority of them had no fading of paint, no rust, not even dirt. It was a different world; even the highway was clean and perfectly landscaped. The few pedestrians he had seen from the freeway were jogging or biking, wearing the minimum of clothing. Like everything else in Southern California, there seemed to be a subliminal theme of eternal youth, or at least its quest.
Sabine said, “I guess the reason I was sent to pick you up is that I’m Stan Bertok’s supervisor. At least I was. So fire away.”
Before Kate could say anything, Vail said, “Was?”
“Well, I guess technically I still am, but I seriously doubt he’s just going to walk in one of these mornings, sit down at his desk, and go to work.”
“I suppose not,” Vail said.
She said, “Tell us about him.”
“He wasn’t—isn’t—much of an agent, at least from my standpoint. Everything he did I had to keep a close eye on. He was a pretty heavy drinker. I got a call one night from the LAPD; they had stopped him driving drunk. I had to go down and drive him home. And he has some financial problems. A couple of ex-wives will do that, I guess. And I get a call occasionally from bill collectors.”
“Do you think he took off with the money?” Vail asked.
“I don’t want to convict the guy in absentia, but if he didn’t, where is he?”
“So if he took the money, you wouldn’t be shocked?” Kate said.
“I suppose not.”
“Where do you think the Pentad got his name?”
“I have no idea.”
When they got to the office, Sabine led them to the special agent in charge’s office. “Boss, this is Deputy Assistant Director Kate Bannon and…I’m sorry.”
“Steve Vail,” Kate said before Vail could answer.
The SAC was tall and trim with a dark tan. His thick blond hair peaked low across his forehead, and he was wearing a medium-blue shirt with a contrasting white collar. The cuffs, also white, were set off by large gold cuff links.
He shook Kate’s hand first. “Mark Hildebrand. We spoke on the phone.” He repeated his name when he shook hands with Vail. “Please, have a seat.” He instructed Sabine to shut the door as he left.
Kate watched Vail examining Hildebrand before saying anything. “Mark, we appreciate your letting us come in here and run this operation. The director has all the confidence in the world in you and your division; it’s just that this case is running from coast to coast, and he feels it’s best if we chase it, you know, for continuity.”
“What exactly is it that I can do for you, Kate?”
Vail said, “We need to search Stan Bertok’s apartment discreetly.”
Hildebrand was surprised at the presumptive authority in Vail’s voice. He looked at Kate, but she exhibited no interest in asserting herself. “I’m sorry, Steve, you didn’t say where you worked. Are you with OPR?”
“A man can only dream. No, I’m just the deputy’s gun bearer on this.”
Hildebrand stared at Vail, trying to get a better read on him. Kate broke the silence. “Is there a problem, Mark?”
“No, it’s just that we’ve already searched the apartment—with a warrant. With all that’s going on, we’re being overly judicious. I don’t see what searching it again will accomplish.”
“Look at it this way,” Vail said, “when we don’t find anything, you can say ‘I told you so.’”
“Somehow I don’t think you believe that,” the SAC said, still trying to figure out the source of Vail’s authority.
Kate said, “Mark, we’ve been exposed to a completely different set of facts in this case than your agents. We’ll see it from a different angle. Or if you prefer, call it a lack of imagination. If you think we’re second-guessing you, I apologize, but we’re going to need to take another look.”
Kate could see that Hildebrand resented being told what to do in his own backyard, and liked it even less that he had no choice. Vail had been right about the resistance he would receive, especially with his seemingly intentional lack of tact. The SAC grinned artificially. “We can use the same AUSA, Tye Delson.”
Kate said, “Mark, I know I don’t have to say this, but the last thing we need right now is someone leaking this to the press. This Delson, we can trust him, right?”
“Her. And yes, you can. Unfortunately she’s leaving the United States attorney’s office soon. Too bad, too. You just can’t find prosecutors like her anymore. The agents here love her. She’s invited to more of our parties than I am. She’ll probably have your warrant in a couple of hours. She’s already got all the boilerplate from the first search, and she knows the right judge to get it signed in case the probable cause isn’t as clear-cut as they’d like.”
“We’ll want the affidavit sealed,” Kate said.
“That’s what she did before. Do you have time to go see her now?” Kate nodded and Hildebrand picked up the phone. After a brief conversation, he hung up. “She’s in her office. I told her you’re on the way.”
Vail asked, “Do you have a good lock man here?”
“Why?” the SAC asked, and Kate could tell by the intentional flatness in his voice that he intended to question anything Vail requested from now on.
“We still want to do this quietly, probably in the wee hours of the morning,” Vail said.
“We will get you in.”
Kate and Vail stood up, and she shook hands with the SAC. “We appreciate the help, Mark. I’ll let you know how we do.”
Once outside the SAC’s office, Kate said, “Boy, you and management, talk about a match made in heaven. How did you last three years?”