The Bigot List: (A J.J. McCall Novel) (16 page)

Chris. Mr. Cartwright. J.J. churned over the information overload falling into her lap. She had reason to suspect both, but insufficient evidence to implicate either. She paced down the long corridor replaying Lana’s and her conversation in her mind. Why was she so quick to hurl Chris under the bus with hardly a second thought? If J.J. suspected Tony had been involved in illegal activity she would’ve investigated him herself and made damn sure she had a leg to stand on before uttering her suspicion to a single soul. J.J. suspected Lana probably knew more than she admitted. About what? That was the fifty-million-dollar question.

I
f one wanted the dirt on a senior FBI executive, there was only one source—the secretary. They were all-knowing, like the maids in stars’ homes. Both Freeman’s and Cartwright’s secretaries entered the bathroom ahead of J.J. and she planned to strike up a casual conversation.

By the time she stepped into the ladies’ room, her targets were already deep in discussion from their stalls. But the chatter stopped when she swung the door opened. So, she pushed the door open once more as if she’d walked out, and then tiptoed past them into the last stall on the end. Sitting on the toilet, she pressed her feet against the door and waited for them to continue their conversation freely.

“So what are we doing for lunch today?” said Mrs. Whitehouse, Freeman’s secretary. Her voice was distinctively Southern and her dress Southern conservative. Every day a tight hair bun, knee-length skirt suits, and mother’s pearls. And she could talk a boundless hole in any head. “If it was up to me, I swear before Jesus I’d have a liquid lunch. I could use a couple of shots after the morning I’ve had.”

“Honey, you’re not alone,” said Sue Slater, who worked for Cartwright. She was the opposite of Ms. Whitehouse in all ways except Southern charm. “If I had my way I’d keep a bottle in my desk with all the mood swings I have to deal with on a daily basis. I swear that man must be bipolar.”

“Get outta here. Mr. Cartwright seems like such a nice guy and a considerate boss. I mean he did give you a gift certificate to the Outback last Christmas. All Mr. Freeman gave me was a word of thanks for all my hard work during the year. Cheap bastard.”

The stall doors swung open and shoe heels tapped toward the sink area. They raised their voices above the sound of streaming water.

“I’d gladly take a word of thanks if it meant I didn’t have to work with Dr. Jekyll. His mood goes up and down like the friggin’ Dow Jones average. One minute he’s as happy and jovial as he can be. The next minute he’s one Prozac short of the wacky ward.”

“Shut your mouth!”

“I swear. And did you hear about his psychotic meltdown yesterday? He freaked out something terrible when Freeman told him he had to take a polygraph exam,” Sue said. “We have to take one every five years for our reinvestigations, so I didn’t know what the stink was all about. Just unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary is right,” Delores said. “Why would he have a problem? He couldn’t be any more squeaky-clean if he tried.”

“Squeaky-clean? Please. That man has more skeletons in his closet than Arlington cemetery.” Sue lowered her voice to a whisper. “Rumor was a few years back he had a little sexual rendezvous with an employee in the garage.”

“And? If we fired every man in this building who’s had an affair, we’d be left with the chaplain and five high school interns.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Sue said. “Normally I would agree with you one-hundred percent. But it’s my understanding that this employee was
a man
. Yes you heard me correctly—a man!”

Delores gasped. “Stop lyin’!”

J.J. turned her head toward the ceiling, clenched her eyes shut, and shook her head, all the while keeping her gasps inaudible.

“I wish I was, trust me. That’s more information than I’d like to know about anyone, especially my boss,” Sue said. “Apparently, the person who witnessed the incident didn’t offer any proof so Cartwright got off...no pun intended. They gave him a slap on the wrist and promoted him.”

“That’s the Bureau way,” Delores said as they cackled like a couple of hens.

“But he’s got a wife and two kids.”

“Please! What does that mean these days except that he married some poor gullible woman and screwed her long enough to procreate a couple of times? Haven’t you heard of the ‘
down low’
?”

“No,” Delores said. “But I know
low down
when I hear it, and you can’t get any lower than that. What a terrible thing to do to his family!”

“He literally hadn’t been the same person since the incident happened. All the drama must be taking its toll. But he’s certainly lying in the bed he made for himself. He’s got no one else to blame,” Sue said. “But you better believe this...I’m gonna blame you if I starve to death, that’s for sure. Let’s get out of here and drink some lunch.”

J.J. washed her hands and high-tailed it through the vacant corridor. Cartwright had been involved in a homosexual extramarital affair. He certainly had omitted that tidbit of information on his SF-86, the form required to apply for security clearances. Tony’s shock at the news would no doubt mirror her own. More importantly, the secretarial chatter put Cartwright right back at the top of the list.

J.J. paced back to the office. All the pieces of the puzzle fit, but maybe too well. Regardless, the potty gossip more than justified a deeper look. She ripped through the office entrance and brushed past Chris before dashing into Jack’s office and closing the door hard behind her.

His curiosity piqued, Chris detoured from his planned trip to the cafeteria and circled back to his desk to retrieve his iPod receiver from its hiding place in his drawer. After slipping the headphones into his ears, he bobbed his head as if listening to music until J.J.’s and Tony’s conversation faded in.

“I think we need to move him up on our suspect list. Like yesterday.”

“That musta been some trip to the bathroom,” Tony said. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Well, it appears as if our golden boy, Mr. Cartwright, is more like tarnished brass. I overheard that someone caught him having a ‘sexual liaison’ in the garage a few years back.”

“He sure as hell wouldn’t be the first,” Tony responded nonchalantly.

“He isn’t?” J.J. said, squinting daggers from her eyes. “Have you?”

“I plead the fifth,” Tony smirked. “Anyway, this is about Cartwright not me. Get back to what you were sayin’.”

J.J. eyed him suspiciously. Her mind now more focused on what he’d been doing in the garage and less on the case. “Mhm-hmm. But don’t think this subject is over. We’ll hit that one again later. Anyway...the rub is his partner was a man.”

“Get the fuck outta here. No way,” Tony said.

“Yeah way. And I have to meet with him tomorrow. He says he has some information about the mole he wants to impart. Can you imagine that conversation? Awkward!” J.J. said. “And before you ask, no. He didn’t give me even a slight hint about what he has to say. Very mysterious. Misty-eyed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he planned to turn himself in.”

“Wait wait wait. My head’s gonna fuckin’ explode,” Tony said, hands flailing. “He’s a family guy. Two beautiful kids and a wife. No way he was gettin’
Brokeback Mountain
in the garage with some guy. Just didn’t happen. Who’d you hear this from?”

“His secretary.”

Tony paused. “Hmph! You know what they say about secretaries...”

“You’re starting to sound like me,” J.J. remarked. “With him so scared to take the polygraph and this secret he’s been keeping—something’s definitely rotten in Denmark. Even still, being gay isn’t a reason people turn, at least not nowadays. Back in the 40s and 50s maybe.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “But he wouldn’t want this information to get back to his old lady—or his kids, God forbid.”

“Mmm. Good point. Perfect opportunity for blackmail. You think Chris is the one putting the screws to him?”

“No offense, but he’s too much of a pussy to blackmail anybody.”

“Well, if it’s not him...then that would mean our guy is innocent. Or...”

Tony hesitated. “Or—”

“Don’t say it!”

J
.J. hadn’t given the network idea more than a passing thought before she spoke to Tony, a spy ring seemed like a very distinct possibility. Now, it was at the forefront of her mind. A network of moles that may or may not know they were working toward the same cause. Wouldn’t be the first time. Multiple spies could be providing information to the Russians, perhaps operating from small cells unaware of the others’ existence. With Russians so fanatical about compartmenting their cases, even the best agent or analyst would need a Moscow Center view of their operations to connect the dots between sources and determine how much they truly intertwined.

“I’ll check the emergency signal to see if our friend at the embassy has any news. Hard to believe he’s only got three days left. Then we’ll have all the information we need to nail this treasonous bastard. He won’t know what hit him.”

•  •  •

Chris gasped. He snatched the buds from his ears and slammed his iPod into the desk drawer.

Another unfortunate turn of events.

No greater misfortune could befall him than J.J. recruiting another source he and Lana didn’t know about. A source with access to the files of valuable Russian assets. A mole in the Russian Embassy. Only counterintelligence officers could access those files.

•  •  •

Monday Evening…

Later that evening, lit scented candles and boxes of hot lo mien helped J.J. and Tony wind down from a long day and gear up for another late night. J.J.’s condo would serve as a makeshift vault but at the moment it was their retreat. Each time the world quieted and they were alone, with no one or nothing to face except each other, the affection and yearning they fought to suppress bubbled to the surface. With every word spoken and unspoken, with every accidental brush of their hands, courteous gesture, or lingering gaze, they tap danced around the white elephant in the room, the issue simmering beneath their already tenuous exteriors.

“You done with that?” Tony asked, reaching his hand out for her empty plate. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

J.J. understood Tony’s unspoken language. As macho as he could be, he wanted to enjoy the pleasure of showing he cared and she allowed it, smiling and handing him the plate. She admired the sexiness of his form as he strode into the kitchen, each step accented with a magnetic swagger she could barely resist. He rinsed off the dishes in the sink. “Thank you, Agent Donato. You want dessert?”

He pressed his hands against a hand towel and stood in the doorway. “Mmmm,” he said in a low throaty rumble. “Whatcha servin’?”

“Cheesecake.” She shook her head playfully as she squeezed through the doorway. She brushed against him and every nerve tingled as her back grazed his chest. His body warmed hers for that brief moment.

She’d never wanted anyone as much as she wanted Tony, but they both had so much to lose—including each other. Risking their friendship to satisfy physical yearnings might deliver ecstasy for a night. But the morning would bring a reality neither was prepared to face. 

He eased behind her, looking into the refrigerator over her should, his pelvic area lightly pressed against her backside, his excitement undeniable.  “Chocolate?”

She snapped upright and turned to face him, her body wanting, her heart falling. Breathless, she said, “Cherry.”

He smiled and moved closer, his body invading the empty space between them until none remained. He gazed so deeply into her eyes she could feel the warmth of his soul greeting hers.

With the chill from the refrigerator cooling only her back, she ran her fingertips along his chest until she reached his face. As she laid her palm against his cheek, her eyes drifted shut. With his lips barely a breath away...

They both jerked their heads toward the dining room. J.J.’s cell phone blared in a loud annoying tone.

J.J. snapped out of her trance and tried to force work back to the forefront of her mind.

“I, uhhh...I better get that,” she said.

Tony was so hot, and she was willing. But everything happened for a reason. Perhaps they were destined to be apart.

She lifted the phone and checked the caller ID.

Six
.

“Figures,” she mumbled beneath her breath. It was his Northern Virginia number.
He’s back in town.
Memories began to flood her mind, but she pushed them back and refocused her attention on the matters at hand.

Tony looked at her curiously. “Who was ‘at?”

“Trust me, you don’t even want to know. We should probably get started.”

•  •  •

Overwhelmed with the influx of information they’d been deluged with, the case needed a gut check. They reviewed everything to ensure they weren’t spinning their wheels, pinpointed the top suspects so they’d know where to focus their energies.

Positioned at the table, Tony and J.J. glanced at each other and smiled. The air was still thick with possibility, but the moment had been lost. Tony taped to the wall sheets of paper containing the names of everyone on the bigot list.

“Okay. Let’s take it from the top. We’ll start by assuming neither one of us sold out. So pull down our names right now,” J.J. said, grinning. “Unless of course you’ve got something to tell me, in which case I’ll be more than happy to read you your rights and place you under arrest.”

J.J. knew the sexy lilt in her tone straddled the line, so she’d have no one but herself to blame if Tony’s teasing demolished it.

“Is ‘at right? You gonna handcuff me?” he said, batting his eyes playfully. “If so, I gotta tell ya... I prefer the fluffy pink ones...with the little red hearts.”

“All right now. Let me find out you’ve got some freaky sneaky going on!” J.J. said, laughing. Tony in pink fluffy handcuffs? She didn’t think so...on second thought. “Listen, I think you better exercise your right to be silent or I’m going to have to charge you with one count of shameless flirting and one count of sharing too much information. Now let’s get to work.”

“You’re the boss,” Tony said as he stripped his and J.J.’s name from the wall. “Okay. Now we’re left with Jim, Lana, Chris, Director Freeman, Jake, and Sunnie the clerk?”

“Analysts. Don’t ever say clerk! You know they hate that,” J.J said. “Anyway, I’m going out on a limb and say we can eliminate Freeman. He hadn’t yet been briefed on two of the HUMINT operations at the time they were blown, so he couldn’t compromise cases he didn’t know about.”

“Good point,” Tony said, pulling Freeman’s name from the wall and turning his attention to Jake. “Jake has access to the vault but doesn’t have the combos to the cabinet safes, and he’s never inside the vault unless he’s escorted. No way he could get into the files without one of us noticing.”

“True, unless someone else in the vault gave him access. Any chance of that?” J.J. asked. She had no idea whether or not he’d developed relationships with anyone else. Sure, he’d eyed Lana once or twice, but every man in the Bureau had eyed Lana
at least
once or twice.

“Nah. Highly unlikely,” Tony responded, removing his name next.

She nodded. “Alright. Jake’s off the list,” J.J. said. “What do you think about Chris Johnson? This is Jack’s prime suspect. And with good reason if the information about his obsessive relationship with Lana is true. And Lana has all but co-signed.”

“Yeah, based on what Jack said, he’s certainly got the motive to set up Jack. Seems a little extreme though...and where would he get the money? I mean who can afford to let a hundred grand sit in evidence?
Unless
that represents the proverbial drop in the bucket,” Tony said. “If you think about it, he’s also got the initials. Juliet Charles—J.C., C.J.”

“Hmmm. Well, Chris does give me the creeps sometimes. That’s for sure. And did you notice his reaction when he found out about Jack’s arrest?” J.J. asked. “He stays on the list. He’s scheduled to take his poly the day before us. We’ll wait and see if he passes and proceed from there.”

Tony chuckled and moved Chris’s name up to the top of the wall.

“What about Jim Cartwright? Another J.C. –Juliet Charles. I know. I know. They wouldn’t be that obvious,” Tony said. “Besides, he seemed like a pretty solid guy…until today.” Beginning his career in white collar crime, Tony had known Cartwright only a short time but he’d trusted J.J.’s instincts.

“Every mole seems like a pretty solid guy at some point. It’s how they get hired,” J.J. said. “But he didn’t want his family to find out about his leanings. That alone made him vulnerable to recruitment.” 

“Yeah, and since Cartwright spearheaded the entire investigation, if that’s what you want to call it, he should definitely stay on the list,” he said. “Moving on. What about your favorite person—Lana?”

“Oh, you mean, Miss Every-case-she-touches-turns-to-shit? I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her,” J.J. said. “Wait let me take that back because I could probably toss her a few hundred feet on a good day.”

“You probably could, but aside from excessive blondness, what’s her real crime? Granted, I’ve never seen an agent lose so many service weapons,” he said.

J.J. couldn’t have agreed more and standing in Lana’s presence physically set J.J.’s nerves on edge.

“Trust me, if she had a penis and big feet she’d be at the top of my list, but Dmitriyev specifically noted male footprints.”

“Okay. Lana’s off the list. What about Sunnie…the
analyst
?”

“I heard she took her polygraph exam today and passed with flying colors, so we can pull her off the list. This means she’s got vault access, so she can help us out. Bat those beautiful brown Italian eyes at her and she’ll do anything for you, Ton-nyyyyy,” J.J. said mimicking the sing-song sound present in Sunnie’s voice whenever she spoke his name.

“Gimme a break, she’s the same age as my little sister. I don’t think so,” Tony said. “Anyway, we’re looking at Chris Johnson, Jim Cartwright, and we may as well keep Jack on the radar. So, what’s next on the game plan?”

They both knew the drill. Espionage cases were textbook. Follow the trail of the agent experiencing professional, personal, and financial lows, and you’d find the rat. Time to dig a little deeper. And only one place in the Bureau held the information they needed.

“Well, I think you need to ask our favorite analyst to get her hands on their personnel files so we can look at their financial statements. That’s gonna be pretty tough for Cartwright because he’s an assistant director, but she knows people who know people.”

“We also need to keep an eye out for polygraph results.” Tony’s face lit up. “My boy Mike Sullivan is a senior polygrapher. We were in the same class at the academy. I’ll reach out to him and let him know what’s going on,” Tony said.

Tony always “hadda” guy or “knewa” guy.

“I wonder if Cartwright has taken his polygraph. You heard anything?” Tony asked.

“I don’t know, but that’s a damn good question. Contact Mike as soon as you can. If we can eliminate him from the list, we’ll know exactly who the ICE Phantom is.”