“There are two things that concern me here,” Kate said. “One: if Teddy didn’t show and went to the trouble of exchanging his tickets three times, he must have made Ms. Barker as one of us. How?”
“Holly introduced herself, using her own name, but that would have meant nothing to Teddy, and she cannot think of any other reason he would know who she was. Neither can I or anybody else who has addressed the issue.”
“Two,” Kate said. “Said has only been in the country for four months, and we have only been interested in him for that long. Since Teddy retired from the Agency more than a year ago, how would he have been aware of Said’s existence, let alone his presence in New York?”
“I think that is an issue best addressed at your end of this hookup,” Lance said.
Irene Foster half-raised a hand. “That information had to have come from inside,” she said, glad to be the one to point it out.
“Or from someone on the New York task force,” Kate said. “Lance, question everyone there who knew about Said. While you’re at it, I want you to wring out Ms. Barker and figure out how he made her.”
“Will do,” Lance said.
“Hugh,” she said, addressing her DDO, “I want your people to make a list of everyone in this building who knew we were surveilling Omar Said and put every one of them through the ringer- polygraphs, the works.”
“Yes, Kate,” English said. He turned to his deputy. “Irene, this will be your baby; get on it as soon as we’re out of this meeting.”
“Certainly, Hugh,” Irene replied.
“Director,” Lance said from New York.
“Yes, Lance?”
“Holly Barker is with me, and she may have figured out how she was made.” Lance introduced an attractive woman to the group. “Tell them, please.”
“Good morning,” Holly said. “A couple of days before I first met Teddy at the opera, my FBI partner and I checked out a record store called Aria, on the West Side, at Lance’s suggestion. My partner went in alone, and when he identified himself as an FBI agent, the clerk behind the counter refused to talk to him and told him to get out. The day after I met Teddy, I went back to the shop, looked around and bought a CD. I mentioned to the clerk that I had seen La Boheme the night before and that I wanted the recording, and she suggested a version.”
“Did you identify yourself, Holly?” Kate asked.
“No, ma’am, not in light of my partner’s experience. I thought I would go back after establishing myself as a customer and see what I could learn. My point is, at the opera I gave Teddy absolutely no reason to think I was Agency, and the only other point of contact could have been at the record shop.”
“Do you think he might have been in the shop?”
“No, I was the only customer, but I think it’s quite possible that he saw me either enter or leave the shop, or both.”
“But why would seeing you there make him think you were Agency? You were just a woman buying a copy of La Boheme, for all he knew.”
“Unless he followed me from the shop,” Holly said. “From there, I walked to Sixth Avenue and took a cab back to the Barn. If he followed me, he would know where the building is.”
“But Holly, we’ve only been in the building for a couple of weeks; it’s brand new. How could he associate it with us?”
“Maybe he saw someone he knew at the Agency going in or out,” Holly said.
“Or,” Lance said, interrupting, “maybe he researched the address on the Agency’s computers.”
“But we’ve locked him out of the computers,” Irene Foster said. “We’ve changed all the log-in codes.”
“Then I think that puts the ball back in your court at Langley,” Lance said. “Maybe the codes should be changed again.”
“Thank you, Lance,” Kate said, “and thank you, too, Holly; you’ve been a great help.”
“Thank you, Director,” Holly said.
Kate turned back to the group. “Call Technical Services and change the codes again. Irene, there are still a lot of people down there who knew Teddy. That would seem a logical place to start your internal investigation.”
“Yes, Director,” Irene said.
THIRTY-THREE
LANCE CABOT AND KERRY SMITH were in a meeting in the twelfth-floor conference room when a call came in. Lance picked up the phone. “Yes?”
“Director Robert Kinney for you or Agent Smith,” the operator said.
Lance pressed the speaker button. “Director, this is Lance Cabot; I’m here with Agent Smith.”
“Afternoon,” Kerry said. “Something has come up. Kerry, you remember the hangar at Manassas Airport where Teddy Fay had his workshop.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, sir,” Kerry replied.
“This morning we had a call from the airport manager down there. Apparently, Fay had a second hangar, where he kept the Cessna he blew up, and the manager found it on a routine check this morning. There’s a lot of stuff in the hangar, but the man says he didn’t touch anything. I’d like you-and Lance, if he likes-to take a couple of people, fly down there and process the scene, see what you can come up with.”
“All right,” Kerry said. “I’m on my way. Will you send a tech team from there to meet us? I suppose it will be about… three hours, before I can get there.”
“Director,” Lance said, “if it’s all right, I’m going to let Kerry handle this; I have a lot on my plate here.”
“Yeah, I heard about the Said thing,” Kinney said. “Send whomever you like.”
“Thank you, sir.” Lance punched off the call. “Kerry, why don’t you take Holly and Ty with you?”
“Okay. Do we have a chopper yet?”
“Not our own; we have a service that operates out of the East Side Heliport. I’ll have someone call and book one.”
HOLLY LOOKED OUT the window of the helicopter and saw Manassas Airport as they approached. It was a quiet little field nestled in the Virginia countryside. “Teddy had a workshop here?” she asked Kerry.
“Yeah. He also kept an RV and a souped-up Mercedes sedan there, too. He crashed the Mercedes, running from the scene after he killed the speaker of the house and abandoned the car in a parking lot nearby. We don’t know what happened to the RV, and we didn’t know he had a second hangar. Apparently, he kept his airplane there. I should have ordered a search of all the hangars on the field.”
The chopper settled onto a taxiway on the side of the field opposite Dulles Aviation, the FBO that serviced local and visiting aircraft. Two rows of hangars took up most of the space there. A man in a warm coat met them and introduced himself as the airport manager.
“Your other people are waiting in a big van over by the hangar,” he said. “Come on, I’ll walk you over there.”
At the hangar, Kerry met the head of the tech team. “Are we worried about booby traps?” the man asked.
“I don’t think so,” Kerry said. “The manager has already been in there today, and he’s still with us. You take your people in first and establish a perimeter around whatever evidence is there, so we can get out of this cold.”
The man nodded and signaled for his three assistants to follow him. He opened the door of the hangar and looked around, then turned back to Kerry. “You can come in,” he said; “everything is down at the other end.”
Holly followed Kerry into the hangar, which was brightly lit. She stood just inside the door and waited for the head of the tech team to do a quick survey of the items in the hangar. He came back after a few minutes.
“Okay, we’ve got tire tracks of an airplane, Michelin tires, tricycle gear. That’s consistent with the Cessna 182 RG Fay was flying, until he blew it up. We’ve also got a set of Goodyear Wrangler tracks. That’s a truck tire often used on SUVs and RVs, and the width of the vehicle is consistent with an RV or a rental truck. When we have precise measurements, we should know which. There are also a lot of miscellaneous tools and scraps of materials.”