The Bigot List: (A J.J. McCall Novel) (28 page)

At once, Jake’s finger flinched.

J.J. pumped the trigger twice, delivering two bullets, sending Jake reeling backward. She mumbled, “Only the devil takes one in the neck and one in the chest.”

Her trusted colleague for nearly a decade died before he collided against the floor. It was her first kill shot—she’d never taken another man’s life. And she never dreamed she’d have to kill a man she once called friend.

Lana regained consciousness, saw Jake lying in a pool of his own blood, and cried out. “Jaaaaake! Nooooooooooooo!”

•  •  •

Adrenaline pumped through J.J.’s veins, erasing the ill effects of the previous night’s binge. The day’s events blurred together. Moments passed before she spotted the herd of TSA agents approaching them at a rapid pace. Jake lie in a pool of blood, and Lana lie in a pool of tears. J.J. glimpsed the flashes of light from camera phones, the crowd of onlookers filming the entire incident like a gang of paparazzi. Suddenly she felt ill. She had no doubt the incident would wind up on the evening news. Director Freeman wouldn’t be happy about this unexpected development. More inquiries, more explanations. At least now she and Tony could answer the most important questions, and her feelings for Tony were as resolute as they’d ever been.

After a brief discussion with TSA personnel, the threesome was escorted through the automatic main entrance doors. Lana was greeted by a slew of FBI agents wearing raid jackets.

An ambulance arrived for Jake’s corpse.

“What the hell took you guys so long?” Tony said. “It’s all over but the shoutin’.”

“Traffic on 66 is a bitch!” one of the arresting agents replied.

J.J. and Tony handed over custody of their battered, bruised, and disheveled detainee and the saddlebag full of intel. “Lana would second that emotion, wouldn’t you?”

Lana glared at J.J., blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, the side of her face a rainbow of red, black, and blue. “Laugh now but this isn’t over. It’s only just begun,” she snarled with a sinister laugh.

J.J. rolled her eyes. “Got that right. I’ll see your ass at sentencing!”

“I’ll see
you
in hell!” Lana growled.

“Ha! Joke’s on you, baby! I’m already there!” J.J. turned to her         Washington Field colleagues. “Now, please get this wench out of my face before I bash her face in...
again
.”

Tony and J.J. stood stoically as they watched the cavalcade of squad cars leave the terminal loading area. She exhaled long and deep, running her fingers through her hair.

“You, okay?” Tony said, carefully watching J.J.’s expression for what her mouth wouldn’t say.

“Is that a trick question?” She forced a smile.

“You put up a good front but I know that must’ve been rough on you, with Jake and all. I know how much he meant to you.”

“You mean more,” she said. “Besides, I made the tough choice, right? Pulled the trigger. I proved...
something
, to
someone
.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You saved my life.”

“I swore I wouldn’t let you down again, and I meant it. Every minute of every day I mean it.” She leaned toward him and playfully bumped him with her elbow. “But you
so
owe me.”

A seductive grin sliced through his lips. “Anything you want. Just name it.”

“Well, I could use a drink!” J.J. said as she turned to Tony and held his gaze. “Except...you know what? I don’t
want
one. Give me a little time though, I’m sure I’ll think of something else.”

His cheeks blushed red. “Anyway, we probably should get out of here and brief Director Freeman before he sees us on the five o’clock news. This scene has lead story written all over it.”

Back at headquarters in the Director’s office, Mrs. Whitehouse appeared flustered. She was engrossed in an intense phone conversation when J.J. and Tony entered the reception area.

“Ahhhh, here they are. I’ll speak with you later,” she said, hanging up the phone, no doubt spinning up the rumor mill. “Director Freeman’s been waiting. Please go straight inside, he’s quite eager to speak with you.”

They hesitated for a moment, then plodded inside. Director Freeman faced the television screen, his eyes peeled on the image of J.J. yanking Lana to the ground by her golden locks, captured via bystander cam and now the third story on the six o’clock news.

“Sir, we were told you wanted to see us,” Tony said to Director Freeman, uneasy about his reaction. Neither  J.J. nor he had accounted for nosy onlookers sending a video of the incident to Channel 4. Everything happened so quickly.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Bonnie and Clyde of the FBI. Have a seat.” He turned back toward the screen. “See that? Every channel.”

Tony and J.J. sat statue still waiting to be admonished.

“You okay, Agent McCall? That must’ve been a tough shot to take. You’ve worked with Jake for a number of years, I understand.”

“Well, I did what I had to do,” J.J. said. “He was on the wrong side of the law and my Glock.”

Freeman eyed her closely, searching her expression for vulnerability. He found none. “Obviously, when an FBI agent gets arrested, a G gets killed at Dulles for attempting to defect to Moscow, and the arrest makes the six o’clock news, the FBI director is going to have a few questions to answer.”

“We understand, sir,” Tony said.

“Not to mention a second agent’s arrest and an assistant director’s death. The damage assessment on this one will take years if it takes a minute. I’ve been responding to calls from the Hill and the DNI for the last hour.”

As Tony sat paralyzed, J.J. surveyed the room, searching for escape routes. Unfortunately, apart from the office door, her only other option was to leap from the Director’s seventh-floor window into the  headquarters stone-floored courtyard. Suddenly, the temperature in the room stifled her attempts to catch a breath.

“You’re not here to get your hands slapped if that’s what you’re concerned about,” Freeman said.

They both exhaled, the tension releasing from their shoulders.

“But I need the elevator version of what happened,” he said, wielding his pen over a notebook. “You can save the minutia for the report you’re turning in tomorrow.” He glanced up and waited for their nods of acknowledgment; they obliged.

J.J. glared at Tony before he bowed his head toward her, conceding control of the floor.

“Long story short. Lana Michaels is a really Svetlana Aleksandrovna Mikhaylova, a Russian illegal who used sex and blackmail to recruit two agents and one G . . . that we’re aware of so far anyway. We also believe she’s the daughter of Aleksandr Mikhaylov, the illegals support officer posted at the embassy.”

“What about Jim Cartwright’s involvement, if any?”

“Mr. Cartwright hired Lana and we also believe he knew her true identity. He had major financial issues and had engaged in some apparent homosexual activity. His family was unaware of his
leanings
, and he tried to conceal it. She probably blackmailed him and paid him big money to keep him on the hook.”

“Okay . . . Okay . . .” he continued to jot down notes. “In your professional opinion, what was Jack’s involvement?”

Once again, an opportunity presented itself to J.J, a new chance to put the screws to the bane of her professional existence, and to the most senior executive in the FBI no less. Despite his apparent remorse, she knew the asshole still dwelled just beneath the surface. But she suppressed her unquenched longing for revenge and cleared his name.

“Well, sir, in my professional opinion…,” she said before pausing to glance at Tony. His expression begged her to ignore everything that was good and holy, slather on the Vaseline, and screw that racist bastard to the wall for everything he was worth and then some. “…Lana and Chris framed Jack. I don’t believe he knowingly or directly provided classified information to the Russians.”

Tony coughed, the break no doubt intended to allow J.J. to reverse course. She reluctantly parked on the high road.

“However! I do believe he knowingly and willingly committed countless security violations. I believe the investigation will reveal that he gave a professional advantage to the woman he was sleeping with. There is more than sufficient evidence to support that.”

Tony’s smile said, “Good girl!”

“I see. Interesting,” the director said. “So if I recommended that the U.S. Attorney drop the espionage charges and release him from jail immediately, you would support this decision?”

She paused in a lengthy pregnant silence. With a shaky voice, she answered, “
Legally
, there is no reason to hold him. Personally? That’s another story.”

The corners of his mouth rolled up into a smile. He almost appeared to take some warped enjoyment in J.J.’s reluctant honor. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

“I think there’s one more thing we should tell you.” Tony glanced at J.J. “We can’t discount the possibility of a larger network of illegals operating throughout the community.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Unfortunately, I share the same concern. It’s one of the issues I’m scheduled to discuss with the DNI at the briefing in the morning.”

“We can’t link all the compromises to Lana, particularly some of the CIA and NSA  information,” Tony continued.

“I agree,” he said. “I’ll be sure to convey your opinions.”

He stood up from his seat and stacked his notes in a pile.

“I think I have everything I need. I’ve listened to Chris Johnson’s interview with the polygraphist, and let’s just say it’s entirely too gripping for my comfort. I should survive the first round of meetings.” He stood and gestured for them to do the same, then led them to the door. “I’ll expect full reports on my desk by noon. Sharp.”

“Sir, what about our polygraphs in the morning?” Tony asked.

“They’ve been canceled. Obviously you have more important work to do. Your vault access has already been fully restored as well. Keep up the good work.”

Tony and J.J. smiled as they left the office. Once safely out of sight, they bumped fists to celebrate.

“Well, looks like my work is done. You’re going to be on your own after we turn in our reports tomorrow.”

“Quit talkin’ crazy. No way in hell am I gonna let you quit.” Tony turned to J.J. and smiled. “Besides, Ms. McCall, you and I have some very important unfinished business to discuss, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Her eyes were tired and her body ached. “But it’s been a long day. Let’s table this discussion until tomorrow evening, okay? Scouts honor.”

Late Thursday Night…

A
ll night long, J.J. tossed and turned between her new 800-count sheets thinking about Tony and his proposition. Thinking about the problems she’d tried to deny about her future with the FBI, she snatched back the duvet and made her way into the family room, straight to the shelf which housed “his” picture. That’s the first thing she needed to get rid of.

She lifted Six’s photo and traced his profile with her index finger. Oh, the passion she’d shared with this man. He had the eyes of an angel, the soul of Satan himself. Her time to move one was well overdue, and she knew it. She could choose to dwell on what was, what could’ve been. Or focus her heart and mind on the future, a future with the man who never made her itch, as her mother had done more than 40 years before. She’d never find another like Tony, and a rejection would send his frail ego in the arms of another, the thought of which made her sick to her stomach. No, she refused to lose him. Besides, Six had never been one to take refuge on the sidelines, not for long. By now, he was probably preparing to depart for Zimbabwe, where he’d shop for goats to woo some chief’s daughter, no more thinking about J.J. than the man on the moon.

When she arrived in the kitchen, picture frame in hand, J.J. reached into the cabinet, removed three bottles of Belvedere and poured the contents of each into the sink. She’d wanted to begin her new life without a crutch, face life on her own two feet. She stepped on the pedal at the base of the trashcan which flipped the top open and, when the lid popped up, she slammed the frame and bottles inside with a loud crash, left nothing but the sound of broken glass and the memories of shattered outdated dreams. She had new dreams now. It took a year, but she’d done it, cleaned house. Mr. Six...and the booze were gone for good.

After shaking off the final remnants of her emotional crutches, she sat down at the dining room table and drafted her resignation memo. With each word written, she felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. It was brief but would serve its purpose.

Dear Mr. Nixon,

I quit. Effectively immediately.

Sincerely,

Former Special Agent J.J. McCall

She returned to her bed moments later and sat on the edge. At once, her emotions flooded into tears; she heaved sobs for everything and everyone she’d lost that day. It was a much-needed cleansing that would allow her to welcome with open heart everything and everyone she was about to gain. 

•  •  •

Early Friday Morning…

Director Freeman’s secretary, Mrs. Whitehouse, called at the crack of dawn. He had good news to convey to J.J. that couldn’t wait for regular business hours. And J.J. was mighty glad he didn’t. She rolled over and palmed the alarm clock on the nightstand. It read five a.m.

Ugh!
she grunted as she ascended from the bed and felt her way to the bathroom. In the mirror, the dark circles and red cracked eyeballs divulged openly what her body concealed. She was damn exhausted. Professionally fulfilled but exhausted. Romantically on the verge of a new adventure with the man of her dreams but exhausted. Vindicated. But exhausted. She slogged through the house, pulled herself together.

She’d waited patiently for the day to arrive, and in a twist that could only be part of a larger Karmic plan, J.J. would deliver the news alongside her new man. After their early morning appointment and their mid-morning meeting with the Director later on, they could grab some lunch, maybe an early dinner at their favorite watering hole. There she’d break the news to him—he was stuck with her forever.
If
he behaved as a good boy should.

She checked herself in the mirror just before she grabbed her keys to head out the door.

Her lips curled upward when her caller ID lit up.

“Donato! What’s shakin’ bacon?”

“You on the way? We’ve gotta hurry. He’s gonna be released in less than an hour and traffic’s a beast.”

“Yeah, I just opened the door.”

“So, uhhh....I know our morning’s full, but do you think we’ll get a chance to have that talk later today?”

“Absolutely, and let me just say, I think you’re going to be very pleased with the conversation.”

“Very pleased? Or just sorta pleased.”

“Very.”

She listened closely to hear his smile.
There it is
.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. I’ll see you in a few.”

She slipped the letter in her pocket and took another look around her apartment. Indeed, her world would change forever—and for the better. When she returned home, she’d be a self-employed girlfriend of an Italian FBI agent, a surprising turn of events indeed.

•  •  •

The exit gate at the Alexandria jail opened, and Jack, stepped beyond the barbed-wire fence. He looked to the heavens, as if speaking to God, the same god he’d probably ignored for the sum total of his miserable life. He was wearing his typical tired polyester slacks and cotton button-down he’d worn to work on his last free day. When he spotted Tony and J.J. leaning against the passenger door of her car, he stutter-stepped and then moved toward them. The corners of his mouth lifted with each step until roughly 30 of his 32 teeth became visible. He bowed his head forward to greet Tony and then turned to J.J.

“You did it! You cleared my name.” He extended his hand to her. In the almost seven years that she’d worked for him, she’d never felt his greasy skin next to hers, and there was little cause to break that stellar record then.

But she did.

“I did my job.”

Although she’d never sought vengeance, she’d relish it.

He tugged the unbelted waist of his pants and pulled it over his beer gut. Then he smirked as if the fresh life lesson had already begun to fade from his memory. “You’re a good agent McCall, a lot like your mother.”

Her body stiffened; she stood erect. “My mother?” J.J. said almost breathless. “You mean,
you
knew her?”

Tony snapped his head toward J.J., baffled and confused.

“Yeah...I knew her,” he said. “I’ve been an agent for 33 years, of course I knew her.”

“Then you know what happened.”

He nodded. “Maybe we’ll talk…when I get back to the office.”

“I’m afraid there might be a problem with that.” J.J. glanced up at Tony and then back at him.

Jack’s eyebrows scrunched. He looked at them both repeatedly.

“Well,” J.J. said. “Director Freeman has authorized me to inform you that your clearances have been revoked due to excessive security violations. You can no longer work at headquarters. Security will, however, escort you to your desk long enough for you to pack up your belongings.”

His mouth fell open. “This is ridiculous! I’m innocent!”

“Yeah, well . . .the Director doesn’t seem to think so,” Tony chimed in.

Jack jerked his head back, shaking his head in denial.

“He’s giving you the option to accept an early retirement or face termination,” J.J. said. “It’s your choice.”

Jack tipped his head to the side, turned on his heel, and his chin dropped to his chest as he walked away.

“Jack, what about my mother. What happened to her?”

He started to speak then stopped himself. “You should ask your father,” he said and never looked back again.

“My father?”

“What’s ‘at all about?” Tony asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out at Sunday brunch.”

J.J. walked around to the driver’s side to slip into the car. Just as she poked the key in the ignition and they prepared to pull out, Tony’s phone rang.

“Donato,” Tony answered.

“Hi. This is Mrs. Whitehouse. The Director would like to see you immediately.”

“Us?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” she said. “Immediately. As in five minutes ago.”

“All right. We’re on the way.”

He turned to J.J. “We gotta get back to Headquarters. The director needs to meet with us now.”

“What’s going on? We were supposed to meet with him in a couple of hours anyway.”

He sighed. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

•  •  •

“Sir, you wanted to see us?” Tony asked as he and J.J. blocked the doorway.

“Good! You’re just in time,” he said. “Follow me.”

Tony and J.J. parted like the Red Sea and Freeman led them out of the office. Their heels clacked against the tile as he guided them down nearly empty corridor, not a word spoken as to their destination.

“Again, I want to commend you both on a job well done,” Freeman said. “This compromise issue has been plaguing the Bureau for far too long. Somehow, you managed to solve the problem in less than a week.”

“Thank you, sir,” J.J. and Tony now flanked him on either side.

“You’ve been in the Bureau long enough to know that no good deed goes unpunished.”

J.J. and Tony chuckled as they continued on.

“First, we’ve had a few developments that I need to make you both aware of,” he said, his expression one of concern. “We got a call from the coroner’s office. Based on the angle of the entry and exit wounds, they don’t believe Cartwright committed suicide. He was murdered.”

“What!” both yelled. J.J. and Tony literally froze in their tracks.

“Lana?” J.J. asked.

Freeman nodded.

Tony inhaled a deep frustrated breath. “Glad she’s locked up.”

“Afraid not. Lana escaped from sheriff’s custody this morning. She claimed she was suffering from severe abdominal pains, apparently put on quite a performance. Let’s just say there was a failure to do a thorough body search. She picked the lock on her restraints at the hospital and escaped.”

“No freakin’ way!” Tony yelled.

J.J. stood in stunned silence.

“According to the sheriff, she made nice with one of the guards watching her room, had a little help.”

“Get the fu…heck outta here!” Tony said before he caught himself.  “Sorry, sir, but I bet that idiot’s feeling like a piece of shit right now.”

“Don’t worry,” Freeman said. “I believe I used those exact words when I found out. We’ve got every law enforcement agency in D.C., Northern Virginia, and Prince George’s County looking for her. We’ve got her house, the airports, and the embassy under surveillance. If a Russian intelligence officer so much as passes gas, a G will be there to smell it. She won’t get far.”

“I’m stunned. Absolutely stunned,” J.J. said. She shook her head incessantly. Lana was shifty and a threat to J.J. as long as she remained free. She’d get caught, all right...if J.J. had to hunt her down on her own.

They all took deep breaths, as Freeman continued to lead them down the hall.

“In the meantime, I need to personally enlist your assistance,” Freeman said. “CIA, NSA, and Defense Intelligence have each provided the DNI with information that corroborates our theory that Lana was part of a tight network of Russian illegals. They’ve infiltrated the entire Intelligence Community.”

J.J. and Tony glanced at each other then turned forward, still trying to figure out where he was taking them. “We suspected as much,” Tony said.

“So, I want you both to head up an inter-agency task force to flush them out of the cracks and crevices in which they hide.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” J.J. said. “Did you say ‘
head up’
?”

She placed her hand on her pant pocket, containing her resignation letter. Finally, a chance to prove she could lead, to prove Sabinski, Cartwright...perhaps even Tony they’d been wrong about her. She not only had heart—she also had balls. But with her fingers on the precipice of her new life, her freedom, did she have anything left to prove?

They rounded corner at the end of the corridor, which led to an executive conference room. J.J. could see human shadows behind the frosted glass. This was her last chance to back out. Once she stepped in, she’d be committed until they caught the moles.

She stopped walking before they reached the door, her silence awkward and unexpected.

Director Freeman asked, “Everything okay Agent McCall?”