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Chapter72
ROSS BOGART LOOKEDEVERYINCHthe FBI agent someone would expect to see on TV. Tall, physically fit, good-looking, with sharp features, alert eyes, and a quiet competency. But it was more than looking the part. The man was a gifted investigator and worked exceedingly long hours at his job.
Todd Milligan was nearly a carbon copy of his boss, albeit a bit shorter and about a decade younger. He and Decker had been at cross-purposes early on in their professional relationship but had long since reached common ground. The fact that Decker had saved his life once hadn’t hurt either.
The FBI team had flown into the nearest regional airport and driven straight to Burlington, telling Decker that they preferred to meet at his place rather than the police station. Now they were standing in Decker’s room at the Residence Inn. Melvin Mars was there as well, as was Mary Lancaster. The male FBI agents were dressed in matching dark suits, starched white shirts, and striped ties, and they sported impassive features. Alex Jamison had on a black pantsuit with a white shirt and low heels. Her expression was equally serious.
“Detective Lancaster, it’s been a while, good to see you,” said Bogart.
She replied, “Well, looks like we’re hunting with Decker again. Like old times.”
Decker said, “Why are you here, Ross? You didn’t say.”
Bogart leaned back against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “We cracked the wall around two of those shell companies that you sent to Alex.”
“Meaning the backers for Rachel Katz?”
“Yes. Although the financial relationships apparently goback farther than that. To the time of David Katz’s being in charge of the business.”
“And what did you find?” asked Lancaster.
“Both companies were set up by a businessman with known ties to a Russian oligarch. That’s why we’re here.”
Lancaster gaped. “A Russian oligarch is bankrolling a business in Burlington, Ohio? How does that make sense?”
Bogart said, “It’s a fact, so somehow it makes sense. We just have to figure out how.”
Lancaster looked over at Decker. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
“The room underneath the American Grill,” said Decker. “We speculated that it was laundering people. Giving them new identities, and then sending them off into the American workforce in places of influence through Brad Gardiner’s placement business.”
“But what they’re really doing is spying on us?” said Jamison.
Lancaster nodded. “Exactly. And let’s face it, legit businesses don’t have ID mills hidden under restaurants. Their intent is clearly nefarious.”
Decker had been typing in something on his phone. He looked up and said, “We need to find Gardiner and Peyton. And we need to dig into Gardiner’s business.”
“We didn’t know about Brad Gardiner,” said Bogart. “But now that we do, we’ll get going on that. You said he’s disappeared?”
“Along with Bill Peyton, the manager of the American Grill. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“What?” said Bogart.
“That they called it theAmericanGrill, since it was apparently financed by a Russian oligarch.” He thought of something else. “The tats on the two dead guys, Tyson and Stevens.”
“What about them?” said Bogart.
“Aryan Nation, Nazi, and KKK.”
“Right.”
“But there was one more.”
Bogart thought for a moment but then shook his head. “Which one?”
“KI.”
“I thought that was something to do with the Klan,” said Jamison.
