Deadly Pursuit (SCVC Taskforce) (14 page)

There were twelve of them in the room at FBI headquarters in Los Angeles; eight were part of Cooper’s taskforce. Twenty-four hours before, the Londano brothers hadn’t been a blip on their radar screen. Now, after one had risen from the dead and traded places with his twin, they had a dead agent and two fighting for their lives. Suddenly the Londanos were the
only
thing on their radar.

“Bring me up to speed, Agent Hawkins. How was the other agent killed?” Lana Custov asked. Cooper’s previous unit chief had gone to the dark side. She was now a section chief for the FBI. She’d made it a point when she walked into the conference room to shake everyone’s hand but Cooper’s.

“Agent Sugars apparently put up a fight and was stabbed with the same knife Agent Punto was stabbed with.” Thomas answered.

“And where were you, Agent Hawkins?” Lana looked directly at Cooper.

Cooper fought the urge to answer for Thomas, to save the kid the lashing he was about to get. He’d already prepped him for the meeting, prepped him so he wouldn’t come across sounding like a rookie even though he’d been in the SCVC for five years.

“I was posted outside the apartment complex,” he answered. Nothing more.
Good man.
He was following Cooper’s instructions.

“And you saw nothing?” Lana said.

“No one entered or left the building from the front entrance.”

Her eyes were still on Cooper. “What made you decide to investigate the situation if you saw nothing suspicious?”

Thomas’s deep breath was barely perceptible. “Agent Sugars left his post at 0100 hours. I figured he was taking a leak. After five minutes, he did not return and I became suspicious and entered the building.”

It was somewhat of a lie, Cooper knew, since he had the full story. When Thomas saw Sugars leave the entryway, he’d assumed the man was taking a piss because he, himself, was about to burst, and his Dew bottle was already full. Peeing on the neighbor’s tree seemed like a poor choice and since he’d been placed as a lookout by Cooper and not asked officially to cover the apartment building, he hesitated to hit Celina up for the use of her bathroom. He’d left his post, scooted between the buildings and peed in the alley. Rookie move, but every agent had been there at some point, and technically Thomas should not in any way be held responsible for what was, in Cooper’s opinion, the FBI’s screw up.

Lana shifted her eyes to her boss, and the SCVC’s director, Victor Dupé. The aging leader sat at the head of the long table and met Lana’s cool gaze with one of his own. The director sat forward and spoke into the phone. “Agent Hawkins, run through the entire scenario for us from that point forward.”

Thomas was silent for a second and Cooper knew he was remembering what he’d told him.
Keep it simple, keep it neat, keep it short.
The less said, the less skin your superiors can skin from your body.

“I entered the building and found Agent Sugars dead by the stairwell. His throat had been slit from side to side in a fatal arc. I called it in and ascended the stairs to the third floor. In the doorway of Agent Celina Davenport’s apartment, I found Agent McBroom. She was unconscious. There was a trail of popcorn from her body to the bathroom where I found Davenport cradling Agent Ronni Punto on the bathroom floor. Agent Punto had the blade of a six-inch knife buried in her upper back area, next to her right shoulder blade. The blade had been inserted horizontally to her spine. She was unconscious and her breathing erratic. Agent Davenport was unhurt and had already dialed 9-1-1.”

“Agent Davenport saw nothing?”

“No, sir. She reports she took a shower and was blow-drying her hair when the situation occurred. She heard Punta fall against the bathroom door, which prompted her to open it. She did not see the perp.”

“And where is Agent Davenport now?” Lana asked.

“She is at a local FBI safe house.”

“Thank you, Agent Hawkins,” Director Dupé said. “Stay put and keep us informed. I’ll check back with you in an hour with further instructions.”

“Yes, sir. One other thing I think you should be aware of, sir.”

“What’s that?”

“The media’s all over this. The
Des Moines Register
has it on the front page of this morning’s issue.”

Dupé’s jaw clenched and Cooper felt his own tighten. “How did they get hold of it so fast?”

“Agent Davenport told me she believes Emilio did it. She says it’s payback for what she, the taskforce, and in particular, the FBI did to him. He wants to show the world we’re all incompetent.”

“Thank you, Agent Hawkins.” Dupé disconnected the phone and looked at Cooper. “You agree with Celina’s assessment?”

Keep it simple, keep it neat, keep it short.
“Emilio would love to see us sweat over this. Plus, it buys him leverage. While the locals expend time and energy handling the media, he can continue hunting Celina.” It made his gut crawl just to think about it. “He’s looking for revenge, pure and simple.”

Dupé sat in silence, everyone else in the room following his lead, as he turned the situation over in his mind. Cooper hated sitting. It was a useless waste of time. He wanted to fly back to Des Moines, find Londano, and hang him by his balls. Grab Celina and hold her tight.

But Lana was watching him. She loved knowing he’d screwed up and slept with his young former taskforce member. She was wondering how much of a relationship he actually had with Celina. She was waiting for him to jump up, pace, and ping off the walls. Then she could drop subtle hints about his questionable actions. His character. His leadership abilities. It would be her greatest joy to kick him off the case this time around. Have him removed from his position as agent-in-charge of the SCVC taskforce.

So he sat still, keeping his hands in his lap and his face blank.

Lana threw out some questions. The others tossed ideas back and forth. How did Emilio successfully substitute Enrique for himself? Were people at the prison paid off? What does the State of California now do with Enrique? Are the warrants for his arrest still good after he was declared legally dead? How can we be sure it’s Emilio stalking Celina? And how do we stop him?

The questions and answers went around the table, but Cooper purposely tuned most of it out and waited for Dupé to come up with a plan of action.

“You’re quiet, Agent Harris.” Dupé sank back into his chair. “You must have thoughts about this. I’d like to hear them. What should we do to capture Emilio Londano?”

Payoff for being patient. “We can play this game his way, or we can play it ours. First, we have to lure him back to California so he’s in our jurisdiction. Then we control the game board.” Several heads on both sides of the table nodded.

“Lure him back?” Lana tapped manicured nails on the table. “Easier said than done.”

Cooper tuned her out. “Once he’s in our jurisdiction, we set a trap and use what he wants as bait.”

Lana raised a narrow eyebrow. “He wants revenge on the FBI, Harris. You going to use all of us as bait?”

Cooper took his gaze off Dupé and looked her straight in the eye. She was always dead on with the details, but she could never grasp the big picture. Maybe she needed to spend time with Dominic Quarters and Chief Forester. “Don’t flatter yourself, Lana. He doesn’t want you.” Her fingers stilled. “He wants Celina Davenport.”

She leaned forward. “Then why didn’t he kill her last night?”

“And end the game?” Cooper shook his head. “He wants to see the FBI and the DEA sweat. He likes knowing that we’re sitting here racking our brains trying to figure this out. That we’re running in circles playing catch up to him. He’s three steps ahead of us already, but the thing he’s living for right now, the ultimate power he wants is to terrorize the agent who brought him down.”

There were more head nods around the table. Cooper redirected to Dupé. “If I were you, sir, I’d bring Celina Davenport back to Carlsbad.”

Dupé’s pager went off. He stood without missing a beat or glancing at the readout and picked up his coffee cup. “All right, Agent Harris, bring her back. Safely. Chief Custov, call the airport and get one of our Cessna’s ready to fly Cooper to Des Moines. Have a safe house set up for Agent Davenport when they return.” He held out his hand to Cooper, and Cooper stood to shake it. “I’ll be waiting for your report when you and Agent Hawkins get back.”

In other words, let the game begin. “Yes, sir,” Cooper said and gave Lana a satisfied smile. She glared back as she rose, pushed in her chair, and swept her Daytimer off the table.

Cooper followed Dupé out with the rest of the group. Lana snuck up behind him. “Does Agent Hawkins know you sacrificed the last man you called partner for Celina Davenport? He’s lucky he didn’t end up in a wheelchair because of her as well.” She snickered under her breath as she pushed past him.

It was all Cooper could do not to clock her.

Instead he snatched his cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed Celina’s. “I’m coming to get you,” he said when she answered.

He tucked the sigh of relief he heard in her voice deep into his chest and went to work.

Chapter Twelve

West Des Moines

The safe house was ensconced
in a posh, but somehow benign neighborhood. Unlike the homes around it, it had wires on every door and window, bugs in every room and on every phone, fax, and cable line. Video cameras were tucked into the smoke detectors and ceiling fans. Everything that happened here would be recorded, analyzed, and used to not only keep her safe, but to document Emilio’s guilt if he showed up.

“He’ll find me here.” Celina stared at her reflection in the car’s window, expression closed, just like the FBI had taught her to keep it.

Forester, seated next to her, held himself responsible for the death of his agent and the injuries of the other two. Ronni was out of surgery, but still in serious condition. Forester had let Celina go to the hospital and sit with her for several hours. She hoped Ronni had heard her apologies through the drugs keeping her sedated.

So far, Forester hadn’t laid any blame at her feet and that surprised Celina. All hell had broken loose at HQ, the perfect time and circumstances to use her for the fall guy. Now, though, he was stepping up and taking the responsibility on his own shoulders. And he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

Miracle of miracles, he seemed to be listening when Celina told him things. He even seemed to believe her.

That didn’t stop him from questioning her, however. “We’ve changed cars three times and done a heat run all over Des Moines proper. Our escort keeping tabs on us swears we’re not being followed. How’s Londano going to find you?”

When Celina didn’t respond, he sighed. “How long until he shows up?”

She shrugged. “A day at most.”

Forester grunted. “Goddamn SOB.” His hands formed a circle in the air. “Gonna get my hands around his little neck and squeeze it until his eyes pop out.”

Looking at Forester’s giant mitts, Celina found the energy to smile. He’d never get his hands on Emilio, but the image made her feel better. “Save me a seat so I can watch.”

He nodded. “Damn straight. If you don’t kill this piece of shit, I will.”

We’re bonding over killing a man
.
Weirdville, here we come.
She held out her hand to him and felt rewarded when he grasped it across the seat between them. “Deal,” she said, and they shook.

“So, how we gonna do this?”

Celina released his hand. “I have a plan, sir. I’ve already initiated it.”

He froze, gave her an exasperated huff. “Just don’t leave your gun in the car this time, okay?”

Celina laughed softly and gave him the only answer she could. “Yes, sir.”

The house was small by the neighborhood’s standards, but contemporary by Des Moines, Iowa’s, standards. The woman that opened the front door for Celina and Forester was older than Celina by a few years, taller than her by a few inches, and could give Jillian Michaels a run for her money, even though her bulky, powder blue sweats tried to hide it. She had her hair in a ponytail and a gun hidden in the waistband of her sweatpants.

Ex-Secret Service. Had to be.

She smiled and welcomed Celina in like they were old friends. Celina wondered if she’d been told what happened to the last female agent guarding her.

Forester introduced her as Mary—no last name—a specialist the FBI hired on occasion for her services. They discussed Celina’s case briefly and then Mary gave her a tour of the house. As they stepped into the bedroom Celina would be using until Cooper arrived, Mary gave her the house rules like a camp counselor.
No opening windows. No going outside without permission and an escort. No smoking.
Celina dropped her overnight bag on the floor, tested the mattress, and agreed.

Once the door closed behind Mary, Celina flopped over on her stomach and stared at the stitches in the Amish quilt draping the bed. They were meticulous, perfect in proportion, flowing one into the next with a precision she admired.

Tracing a line of them with her finger, she thought of the coming days and what would happen, but it was too exhausting to consider all the possible scenarios in her already drained state. She found instead a memory floating up of her brother Luke.