"Thanks."
He advised me, "Don't hesitate to call me with any questions, thoughts, or information that you may recall or receive."
"I will do that."
"And be careful."
"Yourself as well."
We hung up and I refreshed my beverage. I also retrieved my fully charged paid-minutes cell phone from the kitchen counter. It's important to have one of these if you're a drug dealer, a cheating spouse, a terrorist, or just an honest guy like me with a government phone who doesn't want the taxpayers picking up the charges for his private calls.
I took my drink and sat in my La-Z-Boy recliner. This is the real thing-buttery leather, adjustable positions for reading, watching TV, sleeping, or pretending you're dead when the wife wants you to help with the dishes. I chose the half-upright Scotch-drinking position and dialed my prepaid cell phone.
A female voice answered, "Kearns Investigative Service. How may I help you?"
I replied, "This is John Corey. I'd like to speak to Mr. Kearns."
"He's not in. May I take a message?"
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Kearns's boyfriend. I need to speak to him."
"Uh… you are…?"
"Mr. Kearns's old friend."
"Oh… I thought you…" She said, "Please hold."
A recorded voice thanked me for my call and urged me to stay on the line. Then a recorded pitch: "Kearns Investigative Service is staffed by highly trained and qualified men and women who have many years of experience in law enforcement. We offer comprehensive assistance in areas relating to researching the personal and professional histories of prospective employees. Please stay on the line for assistance."
The rousing theme song from Bonanza came on, which made me confident I'd called the right people.
Anyway, my old bud, retired NYPD Detective First Grade Dick Kearns, worked briefly for the Anti-Terrorist Task Force, where he learned, among other things, how the Feds operated. He then left the ATTF and started an agency that performed background investigations on people who had applied for work with the Federal government. In the old days this work was done mostly by the FBI, but as I said, outsourcing is the new order of the day-the FBI has more important things to do than vetting some guy named Ramzi Rashid who wants to work for the Transportation Security Agency at the airport.
More importantly for me, Dick Kearns has built up a large database, and he has good contacts in various government agencies, including the FBI, whom he assists and who assist him in his work.
Mr. Kearns himself came on the line and asked, "How long has this been going on?"
"Since you had the midnight-to-eight shift and I had the four-to-midnight."
"You didn't drink my booze, did you?"
"Would I do that to a friend?"
The opening remarks concluded, he asked me, "How's Kate?"
Rather than get into that now, I replied, "She's good. How's Mo?"
"Still putting up with my crap." He asked, "How you doing at 26 Fed?"
I replied, "I'm growing and learning, meeting new challenges with confidence and enthusiasm while developing good work habits and people skills."
"I'm surprised they haven't fired your ass."
"Me too. Hey, Dick, I need a favor."
"Hello? John? You're breaking up."
Everyone's a friggin' comedian. I said, "This is important and highly confidential."
"All right… do you want to meet?"
"I'm not allowed out."
"She catch you?"
"Actually, I'm being protected at home by Special Operations."
"Jeez. What the hell did you do?"
"I didn't do anything, Dick." I asked him, "Are you bug-free there? Phone and office?"
"Uh… yeah. I mean, I check." He asked me, "How about you?"
"I'm on a prepaid-minutes phone, and I'm pretty sure my apartment is clean."
"Okay. But why are we concerned about that?"
"I'm glad you asked. Here's the deal. I'm looking for a guy named Boris. Russian born, former KGB, age about fifty, last known-"
"Hold on. Boris who?"
"I don't know. I'm asking you."
"Don't you, like, work for the FBI? I mean, maybe they can help you."
"I'm outsourcing this."
"You mean this is official? I get paid?"
"No."
"Jeez. Come on, John. This is risky business."
"Let's say this is a private matter. Like a matrimonial. Maybe a credit check."
"The last two times I did this for you, I was sweating getting caught and losing my license."
"You licensed?"
"And my government contract."
"Last known living in the D.C. area, three years ago. Are you writing this down?"
"You're an asshole."
"After leaving the KGB, this man worked for Libyan Intelligence."
"Who?"
"Then he defected-actually, escaped from Libya-with the help of the CIA and wound up in Washington, where I met him three years ago-"
"I really don't want to touch anything that has to do with the Company."
"I'm not asking you to. My thinking is that when the CIA got through debriefing Boris, he went into this post-Soviet resettlement program that takes care of and keeps tabs on guys like Boris. But the CIA doesn't run this program in the U.S., so these resettled Soviets are usually turned over to the FBI to keep track of. Follow?"
"Yeah."
"So Boris is registered with a local FBI field office somewhere."
"Right." He reminded me, "I checked out a Russian for you last October. Guy named Mikhail something. He lived in Boston and I-"
"Right. Did you get my check?"
"I had to call the FBI field office in Boston for that one, and they started asking me why I needed this information."
"For your job, Dick. And they gave you the info."
"Yeah… but… it's a stretch."
"Dick, if this wasn't important-"
"Okay. So you have no last name and only a last-seen time and place."
"Right. Ex-KGB. Boris. How many could there be?"
"John, I need something more-"
"He smokes Marlboros and drinks Stoli."
"Oh, why didn't you say so? Let me check my computer."
"Look, I think we have two possible locations on Boris. Washington metro area and New York metro. That's where half these Russians wind up. So you call your FBI sources in both places and say… whatever."
"Yeah. Whatever. What the hell am I supposed to tell them-?"
"Wing it. You're doing a background check for a security clearance. That's what the government pays you to do, Dick."
"They usually give me the person's last name, John. Plus other useful information like where he lives, where he's currently working, and everything the guy already put on his government employment application. I do background checks on known people-I don't find people."
"What happened to the old can-do Dick Kearns?"
"Cut the shit. Okay… here's what I can do… I can give the Bureau the name of a Russian guy I'm actually doing an FBI background check on… and I can say this guy seems to be in contact with a Russian guy named Boris who I need to check out, last name unknown, age about fifty, formerly KGB, worked for Libyan Intelligence, defected here, and was last seen in Washington three years ago."
"Smoking Marlboros. Brilliant."
"Yeah… and maybe if the FBI guy I'm speaking to doesn't ask me too many questions about how I already know so much about Boris, and if they don't want to look into this themselves, then maybe they'll come up with a Boris who fits the known information."