No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(86)

Ali said, “One P.M. on Saturday.”

Ismail looked at him in shock. “You want these to sit here for a day and a half?”

“Yes. I checked. In the winter, the only time the wheel is full is on the weekends. We do it today, we won’t get the impact.”

Ismail said, “Who cares about the impact? We aren’t claiming credit. Let’s set it for today.”

“No. Do as I ask. I know what I told that man Clover, but I’m taking pictures when we’re done here. We’ll get his hostages, let him gloat, then claim this for our own. With proof. Then we’ll really leverage our payment.”

Ismail smiled and prepared the timer, saying, “Okay. But we might get nothing if they find our work.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The spindle end cables complete, they crawled forward on the catwalk, locating the two cables that attached to the hub and repeating the procedure, coating both packages with paint. When they were done, Ismail set his digital watch, then said, “Okay. Go back to the outward cables. Press the red buttons when I signal. I need them all to go off fairly closely.”

Ali crawled the fifty feet to the end of the scaffold, feeling vertigo from the wind and the drop beneath the grate. He found both red switches and looked back. Ismail nodded, his hands on his own explosive detonators. Ali clicked and returned, finding Ismail setting the timer on his watch. Ali said, “Okay, what’s next?”

Ismail said, “Nothing. We’re done. Next is this wheel falling in the river.”

Ali smiled. “Then let’s go see about our payment.”






60




The reporter studied Kurt’s Department of Homeland Security badge, then asked, “Why is a Secret Service agent looking into a murder? I thought you did financial crimes?”

Kurt inwardly winced, realizing that the man in front of him probably knew much, much more about the mandates of the Secret Service than he did. If he wasn’t careful, he’d really raise the hair on the back of the old guy’s head.

He said, “Blame yourself. You guys report so many stories that we spend more time trying to stay ahead of them than on our real jobs. The administration just asked me to check, because the last guy Breedlove spoke with was my boss. The secretary of Homeland Security.”

The man looked at his badge again and said, “Kurt Hale, huh? Well, Agent Hale, I don’t know what you want me to say. The police have already been over here questioning everyone. Have you talked to them?”

“Yeah, I did. Look, I’m just building a two-slide update briefing. Nothing major. I just want to confirm a few things.”

What he didn’t say was that the police had given him nothing to help his quest. They had few leads and were actively focusing on gangland affiliations based on a recent unflattering story Breedlove had printed, which had apparently aggravated some serious gangbanger kingpins. That might well have been the case, but Kurt felt it was something more. Something he could use to find Kylie. Pike now had a team and was actively working the problem, but he’d come up with precious little from the safe house in Paris. An address in County Cork, Ireland, which might or might not be anything at all.

This fishing expedition might come to nothing as well, but it was worth the look.

The old reporter said, “What do you want to confirm?”

Another man wandered to the cubicle, standing behind Kurt.

Kurt asked, “The night he left here, he was going to meet a source, correct?”

The man behind him said, “Dwight, I’ll take this.”

Kurt turned and saw a twentysomething guy in chinos and a button-down, with the wispy three-day-beard look the younger generation now sported. Either a statement of his lumberjack qualities or a statement of his laziness. The man stuck out his hand, saying, “Kincaid Butler. I was here when Grant left.”

Dwight rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, Kincaid, he’s all yours. I need to get back to work.”

Without another word, Dwight turned to the computer in front of him and ignored them both.

Kincaid said, “Follow me. I’m the one that spoke with the police.”

They wandered to another cubicle, Kincaid talking as they went. “Yeah, Grant was here, and he was working on some bombshell story, but nobody outside of our editor knew what it was. Maybe not even him.”

Kurt said, “And he left here that night because of it?”

“I think so. He was pretty close-lipped about it, but it was getting big enough that he was going to ask for my help.”

“So you were working the story as well?”

They reached another cubicle, and Kincaid took a seat, putting his hands behind his head. “Not yet. Just background stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Emails, research, that sort of thing.”

“So what was the story?”

Kincaid said, “I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you.”

Kurt backed off, not wanting it to appear that he was interested in anything but Breedlove’s disappearance. He said, “Okay, I really don’t care about it. I just have to brief the administration that this had nothing to do with them. You know how it is. Twenty-four-hour news and all that. Trying to stay ahead of the game.”

Kincaid said, “Well, I’ll be picking up the ball, so if you want help, I’m your man. What do you know about it?”