“Probably a lot of them do,” George said, cocking his head to the side. “It’s a pretty common job for ex-cons. Bosses don’t care if you killed someone, long as you didn’t do it while driving.”
“Well, it’s worth a shot, right?” Jake pointed out.
Rodriguez shrugged. “Hell, I’ll switch out one mindless search for another. At least this one doesn’t involve tax forms. Doing this made me realize I forgot to file this year.”
“And you call yourself a government employee,” George said.
“Hey, what they’re paying us, we shouldn’t even have to file. That should be a perk of the job, you ask me.”
“Amen to that, brother.”
Jake watched them tap knuckles. “All right. I’ll call the prison since the warden knows me. You two start on Dante. Anything you can find on him would be helpful.”
“Including an address?”
“That, and his exact location on a GPS.” Rodriguez snorted. “Sure. We’re on it.”
Jake watched as they set to work with renewed vigor. It wasn’t much of a lead, in fact it might prove to be more busywork. But at least it was their own busywork. And if they found something, he was not above rubbing Leonard’s face in it.
“No, I understand completely that there’s no official organizer. Still, you must keep track of-” The agitated voice erupted in another stream of accusations, and Kelly winced, holding the phone away from her ear. “I’m afraid you misunderstood me,” she said when he finally trailed off. “We have no interest in interfering with your right to free assembly. We’re just trying to find out if you have a list of participants-”
There was a renewed tirade about McCarthyism and witch hunts. When he invoked Abraham Lincoln, Kelly said, “Thanks for your time, sir,” and hung up.
Leonard glanced at her. “No luck, huh?”
“Same as the rest of them.” Kelly leaned back in her chair. She had spent the past few hours calling parade organizers in cities under the Houston field office’s jurisdiction, asking for the names of everyone who had been issued a permit for a float. Unfortunately, by and large the parades were ad hoc affairs. Sometimes it was even hard to determine if anyone was in charge.
Kelly had to admit, she was happy Jake and the others were in the other trailer. It would have been distracting having him here. She’d had to fight for him to stay, but figured she’d rather have him where she could keep an eye on him. Especially after the way he’d behaved during her Berkshires case. And separating him from Syd, who had an even weaker moral code, was a critical part of her plan. The best way to make sure he didn’t do something reckless was to keep him close by. Ideally, one trailer over. She, Leonard and three other agents were manning the phones in this trailer. Every other field office nationwide was doing the same thing, trying to procure lists of participants in Fourth of July parades.
Unfortunately, they were encountering a number of obstacles. Some parades were issued a single permit that covered the entire event. Other cities authorized individual permits, but were more than happy to include any float that showed up at the staging area. And the organizers rarely knew where the floats were arriving from; they were constructed everywhere from people’s driveways to the streets on the morning of the Fourth. It was a mess.
“They’d probably be a lot more cooperative if we told them why we needed to know,” Kelly pointed out.
“What, and start mass panic?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to tell people to steer clear of the parades tomorrow,” Kelly said.
“We tell people to skip the parades, they’re going to want to know why,” Leonard argued. “You’re basically suggesting we tell every city in the country to cancel Independence Day.”
“Why not, if it saves some lives?”
“Because it won’t make a difference. If the bombers get wind of the fact that we’ve figured out their plan, they could drive into a populated area and detonate this afternoon. Our best chance is not to let them know we’re on to them.”
“I don’t think we’re making much progress,” Kelly said.
“Look, Agent Jones.” Leonard glared at her. “We’ve got agents on the ground tracking down as many floats as they can find, in addition to driving around every major city with radiation detectors. We’ve called in the National Guard and every law enforcement officer available. Tomorrow they’ll be reporting to staging areas at dawn, checking each entry. We’ve spent a long time preparing for something like this. We’ve got it covered.”
Kelly couldn’t help saying, “Like you had Katrina covered?”
Leonard’s voice was edged with irritation. “We’re not FEMA, Jones, and this isn’t the first major bomb plot we’ve encountered since 9/11. We’ve dealt with this scenario before, and prevented it from happening. And remember, you’re free to leave at any point.”
Kelly set her jaw. Leonard had adopted a tone she hated, the old, you don’t know what you’re talking about, useless female voice. It triggered something in her memory. “Where’s Burke right now?”
“He’s still in D.C. But we’ve been told to steer clear of him for now. Legal is sorting through the paper trail between him and the shell companies. If they come up with a definitive link, they’ll arrest him. Until then, he’s officially not a suspect.”
“ Phoenix,” Kelly said suddenly, eyes widening.
“What about it?” Leonard had turned back to his files.
“It’s one of the targets. Has to be.” She could have kicked herself for not thinking of it earlier. If Burke planned on using the attack as a springboard to jettison himself to the next level of political power, he’d need a valid source of righteous indignation. And if an attack happened in his district, he’d be poised to take full advantage when disaster struck.
“You think he’d take out his own constituents?” She had Leonard’s full attention. His shaggy brows knit together.
“Getting back to Hurricane Katrina,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes, but kept listening. “Could anyone outside the state have named the mayor of New Orleans or the governor of Louisiana before? And suddenly they were all over the news. That’s what Burke wants, to develop a following for his pet cause. And if one of the main targets was his home base…”
“He’d have that in spades,” Leonard said slowly. As he lifted the phone receiver, he pointed a finger at her. “Mind you, this doesn’t mean we’re saying he’s connected.”
“Of course not.” Kelly shrugged. “Maybe we got an anonymous tip.”
Leonard grinned as he dialed the Phoenix field office. “For a pain in the ass, you come in useful sometimes, Agent Jones.”
Syd waited by the curb. Less than a minute after she rolled her bag into the taxi zone, a large black Suburban pulled up, Maltz at the wheel. She threw her bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Thanks for coming down here.”
Maltz shrugged. “You’re the boss. Jagerson is still recovering, so I’ve got Fribush and Kane with me.”
Syd glanced back at them. She’d worked with Fribush before. She didn’t know anything about Kane but he looked capable enough. Aside from slight variations in height and hair color, Special Ops guys were basically replicants: same body type, same square jaw, same army/navy surplus attire.
“Kane’s local,” Maltz said. “He thinks most of the floats are assembled in the warehouse district south of town. Figured we’d start there.”
“Sounds good,” Syd said, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. She’d been trained to go for a week straight with less than an hour of sleep a day. Consequently, she could drop off nearly anywhere, at anytime. She’d passed out at takeoff and woke up as the wheels touched ground, but still felt groggy. Just because she could do it didn’t mean she enjoyed it.
“How are the Grants?” Maltz asked.