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“Yes. If there’s one thing the FBI excels at, it’s our bureaucracy.”
Charlie smiled. “May I sit?”
He motioned to a chair against the wall, and she nodded. He pulled over the chair and said quietly, “The two fake agents that showed up at Jenna’s house had information that she’d only given to the FBI the day before.”
“Are you certain? Do you trust that she didn’t tell anyone?”
“I debriefed her myself. Does your log indicate that she said a stranger answered Tommy’s cell phoneafterhe was killed?”
Lillian looked at the report. “Yes. That’s—odd. We’ve put a trace on his phone and the GPS isn’t popping.”
“You and I both know that a marginally competent tech person can disable or bypass GPS tracking. And,” Charlie continued, “the individual who answered used the same phrase as the two fake agents. That Tommy was conducting anunauthorized investigation.”
“What you’re suggesting is that someone with access to the FBI log system—someone who understands how it works—gave private information to an outside party and found a way to cover his tracks.”
“Yes. Not only an outside party, but to Tommy’s killer.”
He slid over the file he’d brought. “That’s your copy. Jenna Johns’s statement, signed. A photo of two men—one indistinct, she couldn’t positively ID him, the other she ID’d as one of the two men outside her house. These two men also followed Regan twice this week, totaled her rental car the second time when she attempted to confront them.”
Lillian looked through the information. “You’re bringing this to me, and not my boss?”
“Yes. I sent the file tomyboss and he may go directly to yours, but we’ve known each other for a long time. We have different styles, but you’ve always been straightforward. Until last year and Chase Warwick’s murder investigation, I never had a problem with you.”
“We’re not going back to that, are we?”
“Unfortunately we are. Tommy was investigating Chase’s murder. While I know you won’t take the word of a convicted killer, I talked to Peter Grey, just like Tommy did three weeks ago. Grey plays games—he excels at the bullshit—but in his own way, he confirmed that Adam Hannigan was hired to kill Grant Warwick, accidentally shot his son. Tommy believed that the assassination attempt on Grant was connected to the Potomac Bank robbery in Arlington—how, I still don’t know. But Jenna confirmed that—it’s in her statement. Read it.”
“Where is she?”
“We’re not sharing that information at this time. Only my office knows, and it ends there.”
“I mean, I’ll want to talk to her.”
“I can make that happen. But first, you need to find the mole.”
Lillian didn’t say anything for a moment as she scrolled through the log, then looked again at Jenna’s statement.
“I’ll find him—or her. Every file that’s accessed is logged by the system. If someone found a way to bypass it, I’ll know—because other than bureaucracy, the FBI excels at redundancy. It’s impossible to fully erase a digital trail. It’s a pain in the ass to pull anything out of the master file, but I can do it.”
“Keep me in the loop. If your mole is working with these people, he’s an accessory to murder.”
“If anyone in my office has compromised my investigation? I’m going to get them on a lot more than accessory. I promise you that.”
Thirty-Nine
Regan talked to Charlie while he was driving back from DC in peak Friday commute traffic. He told her that O’Dare was on board, then said, “You’re lucky I just started a good book on tape or I’d be a basket case by the time I get home in what looks liketwo hours.”
“Sorry about the traffic, but good that O’Dare isn’t the mole.”
“Definitely not her—at least, I’m ninety-nine percent positive. She’s a bureaucrat not a traitor. She’ll find him.”
“I have some news for you,” Regan said. “I just got a call from the rental car company. Their mechanics thoroughly went over the car and they found something unusual in the wheel well—they think it’s a tracking device, though it was damaged in the crash. I told them that a US marshal would pick it up, sent the information to Maggie. I hope I didn’t overstep.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re sure?”
“Positive. So I checked Tommy’s truck. There was a tracker in his wheel well.”
“Damn.”
