Witness to Death (30 page)

Sandler got off the desk, shoved his hands in the parka’s pockets.

“Last chance. Where’s Omar?”

Callahan wondered how many times he could say “I don’t know.” He wished he could come up with a believable answer. The right words weren’t coming. Something had shorted in his brain, and every time he thought about lying, he saw Michelle being tasered.

Callahan bit his tongue. Maybe pain would center him.

“Your boss, was his name Alexander Weller?”

Callahan felt his jaw slacken.

“Because,” Sandler said, “he was my man in the department.”

Sandler pulled a photograph out of his pocket. It was of a man lying on his back, eyes wide, staring at nothing. His mouth was open in a silent scream, and a red line ran across his neck.

“So, you see, I don’t have a man in the department anymore,” Sandler said. “That’s why I need you.”

Callahan felt a tingling in his toes. It quickly spread through the rest of his body. He closed his eyes.

“What happened to him?”

“He died.” Sandler shrugged.

Weller dead, Sandler’s own daughter tortured to the point that her sister’s hands shook when they were done. How far was Sandler willing to go? What was his ultimate plan?

“I can’t help now. Weller was my only contact. My information’s been burned. I’m embedded. No one else knows I work for the DHS. The CIA thinks I died in Afghanistan,” Callahan said.

Sandler smiled. “I don’t believe you.”

“They think I’m dead. I died on duty years ago.”

Callahan opened and closed his teeth as if he was chewing gum. With Weller dead, he was adrift, alone. Only Candy knew about him. He could contact her, tell her to talk to Duffy, like she’d wanted to. Or, he could get back in. He could get back-up involved.

Come in from the cold.

Sandler stopped pacing. Crossed his arms and waited.

“What would you like me to do?”

Sandler leaned back a bit. “You know what I need.”

Callahan closed his eyes. Opened them. “Michelle is more important to me than the job. If I could help you, I would. But there’s no information out there. After seeing him on the river, I spent the night trying to find him. No luck.”

Sandler dropped his arms to his side. A smile creased his face, and this one didn’t seem forced. His hands were no longer shaking.

“You have to understand, I didn’t want to hurt my daughter. I’m doing this for her. It was the only way to get an answer. So, stop lying to me.”

Callahan leaned against the chair, tightening his muscles. He wanted to tear out Sandler’s throat.

Sandler turned toward the far hallway. “Christine!”

“You’re a bastard,” Callahan said.

Sandler’s second daughter stepped through the passageway into the hangar. “Take Mr. Callahan away,” he said. Then he turned back toward Callahan. “Think about what you’ve said. Think about why you’re lying to me. When I see you next, I want the truth. Christine, if he does anything that concerns you, you can dispose of him.”

John didn’t even flinch. Too many other things had happened in the past forty-eight hours for this to faze him. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

The man who’d met John at the door said, “I want nothing more to do with this.” He left the room.

Omar watched him go. He stood loose, on the balls of his feet, as if ready to spring at any moment.

“What did you hear?” John asked.

“Enough,” he answered. “Who are you?”

The voice was high pitched and thickly accented. It reminded John of a student he’d had his first year teaching.

“I am a friend.”

“What friend of mine will not identify himself?”

“Maybe,” John said, “‘friend’ was a bad choice of word.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have time for this.”

John took a deep breath. This was it. Zero time.

“Peter was here. I’m looking for him.”

Silence from Omar.

“Have you see him?” John asked.

“So tell me,” Omar said, “Who do you think you are? You come here and demand things from me. Expect my help. My friend and I, we have no idea who you are. And we know a lot.”

His hair stuck out in different directions. He had on a white undershirt, khakis and a belt. He was barefoot.

John waited for him to speak.

Omar moved slowly, almost gliding as he grabbed the chair, twisted it, and sat.

“You came here talking about Peter Callahan. Demanding answers. It’s clear you’re not a professional, or you would have shown up here with a better idea of what to do.”

John’s mouth went dry.

“I know Peter Callahan,” he said. “He’s gone missing. And I think you know where he is.”

Omar crossed his arms over the back of the chair and leaned forward.

“You know him as Peter Callahan? Interesting. Not many people know him by that name. From what I’ve been told, he’s had several different names. Peterson. Carnathan. Randolph. Henry. William.” Omar swallowed. “Frank.”

John’s ears burned when Omar said the names. What else did Omar know about Frank? He couldn’t possibly know who John was.

“Listen,” John said. “I think you work for the government. Maybe the guys in trenchcoats. That’s why you were on the docks the other night. Either way, I think you know where Fr—Peter is.”

“
With
the government.” Omar showed his yellowed teeth.

“Peter works for them too, doesn’t he? I want to find him. I need your help.”

Omar took his hands off the back of the chair. Leaned back, as if stretching.

“If you need help, then why seek me out? If you think he works for the government, why not go to them?”

“I didn’t have time to really think about where else to start. I didn’t know how else to get answers. This is the address I have.”

His voice quivered slightly. John noticed it, but hoped Omar didn’t.

“Barging in here is a funny way to gain my trust,” Omar said.

“I… Perhaps I misspoke.”

Omar, however, wasn’t listening. He was staring at John, his red eyes blinking and watery. John thrust his hands in his pockets and turned to the side so he wasn’t directly facing Omar.

“I don’t know where Peter is,” Omar said. “But you look very familiar. Yeah, yeah. I can’t put my finger on it. Where have I met you before?”

John felt his armpits dampen. Omar didn’t hear him tell the other man about the docks. “I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

Omar sniffled and wiped his nose. “I’m not surprised you’re here.”

He stood up from the chair. Swung his head back toward John. John’s legs tightened and he felt the urge to run. Something was wrong, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.

“Out on the harbor. You were with Peter. Did you lose him that night? Is that what happened? Maybe he was snatched, as planned. Maybe that’s why you can’t find him.”

Omar walked over to the door before John could say more. He wiped at his nose one more time, then reached down and locked the door.

He threw the papers from his hand on to the floor, reached behind his back, and came out with a gun.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Uncuff me,” Callahan said.

Christine stepped back from him. Sandler looked up from the picture of Weller.

Callahan turned around and lifted his cuffed hands away from his back, as if he hadn’t heard Sandler. He waited. No one moved.

“Like hell,” Sandler said.

Sandler moved behind Callahan, who felt him grab the chain between the bracelets. A quick shake of the wrists and that was it. Callahan’s wrists dropped back to his body.

“Why’d you do it? Why kill Weller?” He settled his gaze on Christine. Her knuckles whitened around the knife.

“I didn’t do it,” she said. Her voice was soft, but not small.

Callahan turned to Sandler. He spread his hands.

“Things happen,” he said.

With a government agent dead, there were going to be investigative agents everywhere. The FBI would probably get involved. Every thug in Washington was having their door kicked in today. Every phone line was being tapped. Emails being read.

Killing a cop was bad. Killing a DHS boss? Apocalyptic.

Sandler took a step toward him, as if Callahan had said something wrong. Christine looked relaxed, but instead of watching Callahan, she had her eye on Sandler. Maybe she was waiting for him to give the order.

He thought about Michelle and wondered where they were holding her. She God damn better still be breathing. For an instant he pictured his hands wrapped around Sandler’s throat, eyes bulging as he tried to get air. Callahan’s nerve endings sizzled.

“You said I was only supposed to be kidnapped,” Callahan said.

Sandler nodded. “Given the right information, you could have been useful once everything was completed.”