“I’ve seen this face,” he said.
Behind him, Harv whispered, “No, it can’t be.”
Nathan rewound his mind, trying to place it. Then he had it. Staring up at him from the lifeless sheet of paper was an image he’d seen for the first time only days ago.
The face of Frank Ortega’s daughter.
Chapter 19
Harv barely managed a whisper. “Do you know who that is?”
Nathan nodded.
“Do you know what this means?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never felt so… betrayed. This whole thing, it’s, it’s-”
“Dirty.”
Neither of them spoke for several seconds, each running the events of the past week through their minds.
“We risked our lives for Frank Ortega at Freedom’s Echo compound. We could’ve been killed, almost were killed. Nathan, I’m sorry.”
“Harv, this isn’t your fault.”
“How could-” Harv cut himself off and pointed to the door interconnecting the rooms.
Nathan nodded.
Without saying another word, they both left the room. In the elevator, Harv said, “How could the Ortegas have done this to me, to us?”
“Blood is thicker than water,” Nathan said quietly. “A lot thicker, it would seem.”
“Greg and I go back fifteen years. Fifteen years. We spent night after night together looking at satellite imagery when you were missing. I knew Frank’s daughter had been killed, but Greg never talked about it. I never knew the circumstances.”
“How deep does this go, Harv?”
“You mean Lansing? Ortega must have cashed in that IOU earlier than we imagined. Getting his grandson assigned to the Bridgestone operation…” Harv gave Nathan a double take. “You mean your dad? I can’t fathom him betraying you like this.”
“I can,” Nathan said. The elevator dumped them into the lobby. Nathan kept his voice low. “We’ll take a cab over to Sutter Hospital. Holly needs to know about this right away.”
“Nate, she could be involved.”
He shook his head. “She’s not. I can’t explain it, but I’m sure she’s not.”
After the bellman called the cab, it took several minutes for it to arrive. Their moods identical, neither of them spoke during the late-afternoon ride through rush-hour traffic.
Nathan sensed Harv’s anger mounting. Anger and pain at being used like a pawn and betrayed by a trusted friend.
Nathan grasped Harv’s arm. “We’ll get through this, okay?”
Harv shook his head and closed his eyes. “I’m so damned angry, Nate. I can’t…”
Nathan squeezed his arm. “We’re going to turn this around on them, Harv. You hear me? We own their asses now.”
* * *
Nathan knocked on Holly’s door.
“Come in.” Her cheery tone ended the moment she saw the expressions on their faces. “What happened? Did they hit us again?”
“No,” Nathan said. He pulled a chair over from the corner. Harv did the same.
“You two look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“We have.”
“What’s happened?”
“Ernie Bridgestone killed Frank Ortega’s daughter.”
“Oh, no. When?”
“Eighteen years ago.”
“Eighteen years ago?”
“Drunk-driving accident. It’s why he went to prison. This whole thing’s about revenge. Frank Ortega set Ernie Bridgestone up for a fall.”
“No, I don’t believe that, I won’t believe that.”
“It’s true, Holly. Everything makes sense now.”
“Director Lansing?” she asked.
“Right in the middle of it.”
“Are you absolutely sure about this. Is there any possibility you could be wrong?”
“None.”
“Do you know what this means? What it means for the FBI? For my field office, for my agents?”
“Holly, listen to me. Harv and I aren’t going to do anything that would compromise or embarrass the FBI. We aren’t whistle-blowers. You have our word.”
“Nathan, I-”
“Just listen for a sec. We’ve been thinking about this, working it out. Strictly speaking, what Lansing and Ortega did wasn’t illegal. It may be a terrible lapse in good judgment, but it wasn’t illegal, we all need to understand that. But it raises some other questions. What exactly were the Bridgestones doing prior to dealing in Semtex?”
She sat up a little. “Where are you going with this?”
“Stay with me here. Think back. What did the Bridgestones initially do to get the attention of the FBI?”
“I can’t remember exactly, but I’m sure I got a call from Director Lansing to begin surveillance up there.”
“Is that normally how things work? A call from Lansing?”
“No. My boss is in the Los Angeles field office, he’s an assistant director. The call should’ve come from him.”
“Right, but it didn’t, it came from Lansing himself. It would be like a brigadier general giving an order to a battalion commander, bypassing the regiment commander. He bypassed the chain of command, left your assistant director out of the loop. Do you remember what he said?”
“Vaguely. Something about a new militia-type group he wanted to watch.”
“Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“No, I honestly don’t.”
Nathan looked at Harv, then back to Holly. “We read the file on the Bridgestones operation. Frank Ortega gave it to us prior to the raid. Freedom’s Echo was tiny, way under the radar compared to other militia groups in Montana, Idaho, Ohio, you name it. Those big groups have hundreds, sometimes thousands, of members. The Bridgestones were small potatoes. They dealt mostly in small-arms conversions, semiautomatic to full auto, that kind of thing. It wasn’t until the last few months that they started dealing in bigger things.” Nathan watched understanding take Holly’s face.
“You’re saying James Ortega wasn’t just undercover, he was their contact for the Semtex.”
Nathan nodded. “Yes. It was more than a deep-cover operation. It was a sting. The FBI was both the seller and the buyer of the Semtex.” He paused to make sure she was absorbing it all. “Ortega and Lansing set the Bridgestones up for a fall, for a very personal reason. They thought they had it all under control until two things went wrong. First, the Bridgestones discovered James Ortega was undercover. Second, when the raid came, the FBI had no idea about the tunnel. No matter what happened to James Ortega, the Bridgestones should’ve been cooked. But with the tunnel, the targets escaped with a bunch of the Semtex, leaving Lansing and Frank Ortega with a nightmare scenario, their personal little war gone amok. There’s more. We have to assume James Ortega cracked under the torture and spilled his guts. I don’t fault him for it.” He looked down at the floor. “In Nicaragua, I told my interrogator more than I should’ve. I’m not proud of it, but I’m only human. After a certain point, you just can’t take it anymore.”
“So he told them everything.”
“That’s right. The brothers found out about Frank Ortega’s plan to bring them down. James caved under the torture and told them who he was and who his grandfather was. Think about it, Holly. How angry would Ernie Bridgestone be at finding out who the FBI had sent to bring him down? The grandson of the man who railroaded him eighteen years ago. How angry would he be? Would he be angry enough to bomb your field office? Suppose it hadn’t been James Ortega? What if it had been any other agent? Would the Bridgestones have let it go? Would they have just taken their money and run?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Harv said. “We also killed their little brother, which may have been the last straw. Could’ve been the deciding factor.”
“That’s absolutely possible,” Nathan agreed. “We may never know the truth. But here’s what we do know. After he got out of prison, Ernie Bridgestone had thirteen years to avenge what he claims was an unfair imprisonment for killing Frank Ortega’s daughter. But he didn’t. I think it’s fair to assume he’d let it go, put it behind him. My point is this: It was very bad judgment to use James Ortega at Freedom’s Echo against the Bridgestones. Undercover agents are always facing the threat of discovery and interrogation. Frank Ortega should’ve known that if his grandson were ever captured, he’d reveal his identity under duress. He had to know that would trigger Ernie Bridgestone’s old vendetta.”