The deputy director dug his tongue around his lips, breathing out his nose. Flynn figured that he was probably trying to sort out whether to kill him quickly, or slowly.
“Mr. Flynn, you have made a mess of this. Some guy that you brought in for questioning runs away from you? Fine. Go get ’im. Bring him back in and charge him. But this… this is out of control.”
He held out his hand, gesturing towards the TV screen in the corner of his office.
The cable news channels had run nonstop coverage of the footage. Everyone loved a good car chase. A car chase in D.C.? Even better. Throw in four black motorcycles? Now that was viral video gold.
Since D.C. had countless cameras and tourists with smartphones taking pictures, there was ample video for the networks to use. They kept showing footage of the Lexus sedan getting air as it jumped the concrete stairs next to the Lincoln Memorial. Then the driver and passenger jumped onto four identical black motorcycles that were waiting under the tunnel overpass. The Fox News banner still read, “Car Chase of the Century.” The subheadline read, “Criminal masterminds make their motorbike escape from the FBI.”
It was humiliating. And nothing pissed off the front office of the FBI like humiliating headlines.
The deputy director said, “So the lawyer shows up to an FBI safe house. An unlisted FBI safe house. Then what happened?”
“The lawyer says that the only way he’ll allow further questioning is if we conduct it at his office the next day. He says he needs to confer with his client. As we’re all getting into our vehicles, I get the call from the judge that the updated evidence is in and we have his approval for an arrest.”
“You didn’t follow proper procedure there. DNI’s going to be pissed that you went around them because you didn’t like their answer the first time. This is a mess.”
“Sir, respectfully, what the hell was the DNI’s office thinking?”
“They get input from other intelligence communities, Flynn. You figure it out. Keep going. Tell me what happened next.”
“So I tried to get Fend out of the car. I was about to place him under arrest, when the lawyer peels out and speeds away. At first I thought it was some type of joke. Him showing us up. That kind of thing.”
The deputy director just shook his head in disapproval.
“So then the sedan drove off and my men began to pursue.”
“Back up. Tell me about the original evidence that made you decide to arrest him.”
“We have a team from the Cyber Division that’s been down in Jacksonville. They’ve been working with CIRFU.”
CIRFU was the FBI’s Cyber Initiative Resource Fusion Unit. The group was a combination of FBI and private sector cyberexperts, as well as Carnegie Mellon’s Computer Emergency Response Team, and the FBI’s Internet Crime Complaint Center.
“What did they find?”
“They were able to piece together electronic data that links Fend to the hackers. It’s highly probable that this Max Fend kid granted access to a foreign entity. And he had a business associate — a Russian. Sergei Sokolov. We think the Russian had been working with a criminal hacker group. We believe that the hackers broke into the Fend network and tried to download a bunch of their data. Fend also does defense contracting. Usually these hacker groups try to sell the technology or hold it for ransom.”
The deputy director said, “So you’re telling me that the owner of Fend Aerospace — Charles Fend — his own son is the bad guy here? Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. We’re looking into it. He’s been working as a consultant in Europe for the past few years. The reports we got on him say that he’s been associated with some questionable people over there. It’s possible he’s been compromised.”
“Compromised by whom?”
“The data that we got from the Cyber Division says that the hackers were located in Syria — but that they were probably working with Russian or Eastern European cyberexperts.”
“Jake, listen to me. You need to be careful. Charles Fend has been around for a long time and has a lot of friends in this town. His lawyers have been calling us nonstop. You can’t just go arresting his son without stone-cold evidence.”
“I understand, sir. I’m sorry this happened this way. I was afraid we were going to lose our chance.”
Flynn expected to be removed from the case. But it didn’t appear to be going that way… yet. Maybe they wanted to save that card for when they really needed a scapegoat for the press.
The deputy director said, “Okay. Here’s how it’s going to go. You’ll stay on the case for now. I’ll brief the director on what you told me. In the meantime, keep this quiet. The press still hasn’t said his name. Let’s keep it that way. Don’t let anything out about Max Fend beyond our own agency. Is that understood?”
That was odd. Charles Fend’s son would be a high-profile fugitive. Flynn was surprised that Max Fend’s name wasn’t already in the news. He figured it was only a matter of time until one of the networks picked it up. That would help massively with the search. Tips to local law enforcement could locate him within twenty-four hours. Why on earth would the FBI not want Max Fend’s face on a billboard everywhere they could get it?
“Sir, it would really help our search if…”
The deputy director shook his head. “No. Did you just hear me? Absolutely not. Let me be clear. Do not speak the name Max Fend to anyone in the press.”
Flynn shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Sir, excuse me, but why is that?”
“The director has had enough embarrassment. It was suggested to him from above that we should keep the Fend family name out of this until we are one hundred percent sure that the facts support our case against him.”
“But he evaded us—”
“Did he? A few moments ago, you told me that he was going to voluntarily answer questions.”
“Yes, but—”
“And you never officially placed him under arrest.”
“I was about to.”
“Flynn… maybe you aren’t getting this. Read between the lines. We’re being asked to keep the Fend name out of the press for now.”
Flynn stared at him, visibly frustrated.
Seeing this, the deputy director said, “And there may be other factors that you aren’t yet privy to.”
Flynn didn’t know what to say. “Sir, you want me to find Max Fend, but not tell any member of the public that we’re looking for him? And you think that the press isn’t going to pick up that it was him escaping on one of those motorcycles?”
“That’s what we’re being asked to do, yes. Listen, Flynn. Sometimes it’s better just to put your head down and follow orders. Okay? Now I’ve got to go brief the director.”
The deputy director walked through the side door of his office that connected to the FBI director’s own office.
Jake Flynn walked out of the room, glad at least to be done with the ass-chewing. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. Something doesn’t add up. Yeah, sure, Charles Fend was wealthy and had friends in high places. But why was the FBI willing to give him cover after running away like that? Max Fend’s occupation was listed as consultant. Last time Flynn checked, consultants didn’t run away on motorbikes like they were in some damned James Bond movie.
Just who the hell was Max Fend?
For now, Special Agent Jake Flynn was still the senior agent assigned to the Fend Aerospace case.
In the past few weeks, he had learned more about the type of aircraft and how automated flight worked than he had ever wanted to.
Agent Flynn looked over his notes again, at the profiles of the main team members.