Archer rubbed at the strained creases in his forehead. “None of that matters if we can’t figure out what the rest of the memo says.”
“Don’t you know anyone else who can crack this code?”
“There’s always the Yellow Pages,” Archer said with a smirk. “They’ve gotta have a listing for encryption cracking specialists.”
“Wait a minute,” DeSantos said. “I know someone. He may not the best source, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Who does he work for?”
“The state of New York.”
“Too risky.”
“I don’t think so.” DeSantos stood and opened his attaché. “He doesn’t exactly work for the state.” He pulled out a small black book. “He’s in Attica.”
“The prison?”
“Like I said, he might not be the best source. But if we’re desperate…”
“You’re out of your mind.”
DeSantos thumbed through his book. “Think about it. He’s got no connections to feds. He can’t hurt us.”
“Forget about hurting us. Why would he help us?”
“He helps us out, we help him out a little with his parole.”
“What’s he in for?”
DeSantos smiled. “He broke into the state’s abandoned-items database and started assigning some of the assets to himself. White-collar crime.”
“And he ended up in Attica?”
DeSantos shrugged. “He pissed off the prosecutor, the judge, and the jury. He can be a little obnoxious.”
Archer eyed DeSantos suspiciously. “I don’t know about this.”
“‘Subject Scarponi is an ideal blank blank for this project,”’ DeSantos repeated. “Aren’t you the least bit curious how Scarponi is tied in to all this?”
“Even if we jump through all the hoops and get this thing deciphered, I doubt we’ll have all the answers.”
“Probably not. But shit, my curiosity is piqued.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“So I’ll have to be a little smarter than that dead feline.”
Archer was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the tabletop. Finally, he said, “I don’t like this.” He looked up at his partner with dark eyes. “You mark my words: this is going to be trouble.”
46
Scott Haviland was driving his Bureau-issued blue Chevrolet Caprice along Pennsylvania Avenue headed toward Interstate 395. Waller, sitting in the back seat with Payne, was leaning against the door facing his passenger. None of them had spoken since leaving the lobby of headquarters. Payne was not interested in making small talk; he wanted answers, but he had to be careful. He did not know to what extent Waller and Haviland were involved, if at all. Regardless, he was not about to tip his hand and tell them what he knew unless it was to his advantage.
Finally, realizing it was to his benefit to initiate the conversation, he turned to Waller. “So what did you want to talk about?”
“You missed your day of classes today.”
“Something was wrong with the laptop. Couldn’t get online.”
“Where were you all day?”
“Trying to figure out what was wrong with the computer.”
Waller looked away for a moment, staring out the front windshield. “Something’s up, Harp. We want to know what it is.”
Payne grunted. “You want to know what’s up.”
Waller turned back to him. “That’s right.”
“I’m conducting an investigation.”
“On what?”
“It’s ongoing, I can’t discuss it just yet. You’ll know when I’m done.”
“Not good enough. You know standard Bureau procedure.”
“Yeah, I do. And no one seems to be following it.”
Payne looked hard at Waller, locking eyes with him. He needed to show strength without giving any indication that he knew what was going on. Of course, in reality, he only had theories and assumptions. He had no facts.
“Knox is concerned.”
Payne nodded. “I can understand that. I’m very important to him.”
Waller turned his attention back to the front windshield. “You’re going to have to be more specific with the director. He won’t tolerate evasive answers.”
“Or what? What’s he going to do? He needs me. I’m his case. Without me, Scarponi goes free.” Which might be exactly what he wants, Payne felt like saying.
Waller sighed, then extended his hand. “I need your firearm, Harp.”
Payne looked at him. “My firearm?”
“You’re behaving irrationally, and given the opportunity to explain, you’ve failed to provide support for your actions. I don’t know if it’s all part of that blow to the head or what, but if you give Knox a good explanation, it’ll be returned.”
Payne casually reached into his jacket, removed his Glock from its holster, and pointed the barrel at Waller’s head. “Sorry, partner. Can’t go that route, not yet.” Glancing over at Haviland, Payne said, “Keep both hands on the wheel where I can see them, Scott.” He turned back to Waller and held out his left hand. “Give me your wallet.”
“Harper, this isn’t the way to go.”
“My life, my concern. Hand it over, now.”
Waller’s gaze seemed to focus on the gun, which was two inches away from his eyes. Payne knew that Waller had assessed the situation, and given a choice between being severely reprimanded by Knox for allowing this to happen — or facing the prospect of a bullet ripping through this brain — he would take the lesser of the two risks.
“Come on, Jon,” Payne said. “Remember what you said to me a few days back? If I ever needed anything?”
“The offer still stands. But I can’t help you break the law.”
Payne grunted. “Exactly what law am I breaking, Jon?”
“Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity. It’s how we swore to conduct ourselves, Harper. It’s not just a catchy phrase on the Bureau seal.”
“I think I’m being pretty damned brave holding a gun to your head. As for fidelity and integrity, first you have to prove yours to me before I commit to them myself.” Payne wiggled the fingers of his free hand. “Your wallet.”
Waller clenched his jaw, then reached beneath his jacket.
“Slowly, Jon. Keep it clean.”
He produced the wallet and handed it to Payne, who shoved it into his pocket.
“Now slowly remove your weapon with two fingertips and hand it to me.”
Waller complied, and Payne took it with his left hand. Pointing the Glock in his right hand at the back of Haviland’s head, he now had both of them at gunpoint. “Same thing, Scott. Two fingers, remove your weapon.”
With his right hand, Haviland complied.
“Now point the gun toward the windshield and release the magazine onto the floor.”
Haviland held the firearm out and pressed the small release. The metal receptacle containing fifteen bullets dropped and clunked to the carpet.
“Good. Now toss the gun down.”
The weapon thumped somewhere on the passenger side.
Payne pressed the release on Waller’s Glock and placed the magazine in his pocket. He unchambered the remaining round still inside the gun and tossed the weapon to the floor in the front of the car.
“Okay, gentlemen. See you around. When I’ve completed my investigation, maybe we’ll enjoy a beer and laugh about this.”
“Don’t count on it,” Waller said.
“No, I guess not.” Payne turned to Haviland. “Stop the car, Scott.”
Haviland stayed silent, his eyes focused on the road.
“I said, stop the car.”
“He’s not going to let you off, Harper. You can shoot us if you want, but I don’t think that’s what you’re about.”
“That’s part of the problem, Jon. I don’t remember what the fuck I’m about. Now stop the goddamned car!”