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Decker said, “Well, it would be someone in a position to blackmail him now. We’ll have to dig into Dabney’s background more.”
“Where do we start?” asked Jamison.
Decker answered, “At the obvious source. Walter Dabney and Associates.”
* * *
“Have you found out anything else?” asked Faye Thompson, Dabney’s partner they had spoken with previously. He and Jamison were in her office. Mars had gone back to the apartment.
Before he could answer she said, “By the way, I sent the photo of the woman in the video with Walter around the office. No one recognized her.”
Decker said, “Okay, thanks. We were hoping you could help us on a line of inquiry.”
“Me? How?”
“We’ll need a list of all your employees and partners, with particular focus on ones who have been here long-term. And we’ll need the same for your clients. Same focus. Long-term.”
Thompson sat back looking both flustered and suspicious. “Where is all this leading?”
“Hopefully, to the truth.”
“Sounds more like a scattergun approach.”
“Investigations like this have to look at everything,” said Decker. “And we can’t discount the possibility that whatever drove Walter Dabney to do what he did originated here.”
“I think that’s extremely unlikely.”
“Nevertheless.”
“Do you have a warrant?”
“Do we need one?” He cocked his head. “I would have thought you’d want us to find out the truth behind all this.”
“Of course I do. But I’m also running a business. And this sort of thing can be very disruptive. And you very well know that most of what we do is classified. We can’t just start breaching confidences.”
“Well, we apologize for the inconvenience, but two people are dead.”
“I get that, but—”
Decker interrupted her. “And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Walter Dabney needed an enormous amount of money very quickly. I won’t get into why. But he stole secrets from a project he was working on here and sold them to enemies of this country.”
Thompson slowly rose, wide-eyed, and stared down at him. “Bullshit!”
“DIA has been investigating this for a while. If you don’t believe me, talk to them.”
Thompson put a hand against the wall to steady herself. “DIA?”
Decker nodded.
“What secrets?”
“Serious, classified stuff.”
“We’ll have to do an immediate internal review.”
“Might be a little late for that.”
“This could ruin us,” groaned Thompson.
“The sooner we solve this thing the better it’ll be for you,” Jamison pointed out.
“I have to talk to some people,” said Thompson.
“Okay, but if you don’t want to cooperate we can easily get a warrant,” said Decker.
She said quickly, “I didn’t say I wouldn’t cooperate. Look, I have to check with some other partners and our lawyers. Can I at least do that?”
“Absolutely. And we can wait here while you do.”
She stared hard at him, but Decker’s features were unflinching.
She rose and picked up her phone. “Then please excuse me while I go and do that,” she said coldly. She left the room and slammed the door behind her.
“Do you think she’s hiding something?” asked Jamison.
Decker shrugged. “Other things being equal, I think she’s just pissed because this is going to hit her right in the wallet.”
“Do you think it was wise to tell her about the stolen secrets?”
“I’m tired of spinning wheels. We need to interject some urgency into the equation. And I didn’t tell her exactly what they were, because Agent Brown never told me.”
Thompson came back a half hour later with a flash drive. She handed it to Decker. “Please understand that we want you to treat this information with the highest level of confidentiality.”
“We understand that,” said Jamison. “And we will.”
Thompson kept her gaze on Decker. “Yeah, I’m sure you do, but I was talking about him.”
Decker rose and left the room.
Thompson eyed Jamison. “How do you stand that guy?”
“He’s excellent at what he does,” she said defensively.
Thompson snorted. “Well, he would have to be, wouldn’t he? To put up with the rest of the prick.”
Jamison scurried after Decker, who was striding down the hall to the exit. She caught up to him midway and fell in step beside him.
She eyed the flash drive. “Probably a lot to sort through.”
“Probably.”
“Hey, maybe we can have dinner with Melvin tonight. We can go out.”
He didn’t respond.
“Decker, I said—”
“I heard you, Alex. That sounds fine.”
“Great. Say seven-thirty at Cotton’s? It’s on Fourteenth Street. I’ll make a reservation.”
“Yep. Got it.
She hesitated. “I’m sure you’re glad to see Melvin.”
“I am.”
“I mean, after all, he is your best friend.”
“Yes, he is.”
Jamison stuffed her hands into her pockets and marched along, her features rigid.
