Grange huffed out a breath and opened the door, waiting for Logan to step out into the hall. From there, he led Logan back to the reception area and through a secure door behind it into an open-plan office area. Logan figured that this was where the regular agents went about their ordinary business. The place was largely empty apart from a female agent at a desk by a window and the two Hispanic agents who had picked them up at the airport — Martinez and Ruiz. They sat at desks facing one another and looked over as Grange came in.
‘Look after this one,’ Grange told them. ‘Get him a coffee or something.’
He turned and walked back out the same door without waiting for an acknowledgement. Logan stared at the two agents who looked at one another. Finally, Ruiz got up and came over to where Logan stood.
‘So, is it coffee? Or do you English types like tea?’
‘I’m not English.’
Ruiz frowned.
‘Scotland’s a different country.’
‘Whatever. What’s it to be?’
‘Coffee is fine.’
Grange came back into the conference room, walked around to the far side of the table and sat next to Webb. He kept his suit jacket on. Hunter, Collins and Cahill were on the other side of the table.
‘I don’t buy into any of that inter-agency competition,’ Webb started. ‘We’re all chasing the same goal so why don’t I explain where I’m coming from.’
‘Go ahead.’ Hunter nodded.
Webb placed his hand on a file that sat on the table in front of him and slid it across to Hunter.
‘Seth Raines came on to our radar maybe a year ago,’ Webb said, pointing at the file which Hunter opened.
‘He was a platoon sergeant in the Marines. First Recon Division. That’ll mean something to you, Mr Cahill.’
Cahill nodded.
‘Anyway, he was nearing the end of a tour in Afghanistan around two years ago when he was caught in an ambush in Helmand Province. The vehicle he was travelling in was hit by an IED, a mine, and came under heavy fire from entrenched enemy positions.’
Hunter flicked through the file till he found a photograph of Raines. Cahill leaned in and looked at the photo. It showed a man in a typical military pose: upright and composed. He had a cartoonishly square jaw and eyes that were almost black. The tips of tattoos showed on his neck above the collar of his shirt.
‘Casualties?’ Cahill asked, looking at Webb.
‘Four dead including a female British army officer. Multiple wounded.’
‘What about Raines?’
‘He took a round through the leg. Anyway, Raines and one of his men, Matthew Horn, were in a small convoy that had been monitoring the eradication of an opium poppy field and were returning to base when they got hit. It was a fierce encounter according to the official reports. Raines and a British soldier…’ Webb opened another file on the table and ran his finger down a report. ‘Corporal Andrew Johnson of the Royal Military Police, distinguished themselves in the action. Saved a lot of lives according to this. Johnson suffered a gunshot wound to his head. He survived it but had to be discharged from service. He became unstable. Violent. Badly injured a couple of civilians in a fight.’
Webb tapped the report in the file on the table.
‘So what went wrong with Raines?’ Hunter asked.
‘Raines’s man, Matthew Horn, received severe injuries. Double leg amputations. He suffered very badly in hospital when he got back here. Infections and that type of thing. Almost died.’
‘What about Raines’s injuries?’
‘He recovered fairly quickly.’
‘And psychologically?’
‘I guess we wouldn’t be here if the same could be said for his mind.’
‘Tell us the rest.’
‘Okay, so Raines is released from hospital but starts to make some noises about Horn’s treatment. Showed up at the hospital and wrecked the place one time. He got arrested for that. Then he starts writing letters to just about everyone. Around the time Horn was at his worst he started making veiled threats in the letters.’
‘Like what?’
‘How this country wasn’t fulfilling its obligations to its servicemen and that someone would have to pay for that. Nothing too specific.’
‘And this is how you get involved?’
‘Yes,’ Grange said. ‘We take that kind of threat very seriously.’
‘You think the arrest sent him over the edge?’ Cahill asked Grange.
‘Maybe. Who knows.’
Cahill was not warming to Cooper Grange.
‘Anyway,’ Webb went on, ‘we sent a couple of agents to talk to his ex-wife and to Raines. He didn’t respond to the interview at all. Pretty much ignored them.’
‘And it’s after this that he starts buying up weapons and goes off the grid?’ Cahill asked.
‘Correct. And it looks like he recruited some other like-minded veterans.’
‘So how does Tim Stark get mixed up in all of this? I mean, he was still with the Secret Service.’
Grange leaned forward and spoke.
‘We wanted to infiltrate covertly and we needed a back-story that would stand up to scrutiny. Someone with a tale to tell of anti-government sympathies. Stark had applied to come back to the Agency and with his previous background here it struck us as the perfect opportunity to manufacture him getting sacked and that being the cause of his unhappiness.’
‘Raines never bought it,’ Cahill said. ‘That much is obvious now, right?’
‘We think so,’ Webb said. ‘Tim was using the name John Reece on the flight to Washington. That was a cover identity set up for him so that he could get out quickly and it was supposed to be untraceable.’
‘He never got close enough to know what they were doing?’ Hunter asked.
‘He was doing okay for the first few months,’ Grange said. ‘We got regular reports. Then they got less and less frequent. It was getting risky for him.’
‘Which brings us to you, Detective,’ Webb said to Hunter. ‘What’s the story with your case?’
15
Logan looked at Ruiz and Martinez when his phone rang. He took it from his pocket to turn it off and saw that it was Irvine calling.
‘Hey,’ she said when he answered the phone. ‘It’s me.’
‘Becky? What time is it there?’
‘Late. Or maybe it’s early. Depends on how you look at it.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I can’t sleep. This case I’m working on, you know. So I thought I’d call.’
‘I’m glad you did.’
‘What you up to? Alex keeping you out of trouble?’
‘Uh, not really. Believe it or not I’m sitting in the Denver field office of the FBI.’
‘What?’
‘Long story. And before that we were at the police headquarters.’
‘Sounds like a typical Alex Cahill holiday plan.’
Logan laughed.
‘Tell you about it when I get back. But what’s up with your case?’
‘I don’t know. It was a tough day. We were at a scene. Multiple deaths. One was a boy, just a teenager.’
‘Sounds bad.’
‘It was. I hate this drug stuff. Give me a robbery any day.’
Drug stuff.
‘But I’m already feeling better,’ Irvine went on. ‘I mean, talking to you.’
Logan was only half listening. The other part of his mind was rewinding to an earlier conversation with her. Something about heroin overdoses that CID was asked to look at. He stood and walked out into the reception area out of earshot of the agents.
‘You said something before,’ he said to her. ‘About drug-related deaths.’
‘Yeah, it’s this case. The thing today. Why?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe nothing, but the reason we’re here, at the FBI, is kind of similar.’
‘What?’
‘I guess I’m not making much sense. Sorry. Must be the jet lag.’
‘Similar to what?’
‘I mean, drug overdoses. They’ve had a few here as well. Seems like there’s something going on with ex-soldiers.’
There was a pause.
‘Becky…’
‘Somebody told me today that there are former soldiers involved in my case. You remember the murder I told you about — the one in the newspapers? Guy got shot dead in a Range Rover. Andrew Johnson. He’s one of them. Not that the guy who told me is all that reliable a source and I haven’t had a chance to check it out yet.’