While Justice Sleeps(91)
“I found one of the devices this morning, but we’ve been careful,” Avery told him. She squared her shoulders, prepared for the argument. “I’d like to keep them in place.”
Agent Lee scowled. “I don’t like using civilians as bait, Ms. Keene.” Still, the idea had merit. More importantly, it would give him time to secure his own warrant for surveillance. “You sure? You keep those bugs in place, and you’re asking for trouble.”
Avery flashed him a dry smile. “I’d say I’m already there, Agent Lee.”
THIRTY-SIX
The SUV pulled to the curb in front of the Lowry Kihneman building, and Agent Leighton rode the elevator up with Avery and Jared. Ling and Noah met them upstairs with their detail, and together they moved into the conference room where Avery had first learned the details of Justice Wynn’s plans. A long credenza loaded with soft drinks, coffee carafes, and water was arrayed against the far wall. As soon as Leighton left the room, closing the door behind herself, Avery looked at the group and put her hands flat on the polished table. “Okay, let’s talk.”
* * *
—
An hour later, Agent Lee knocked on the conference room door. When he entered, everyone stiffened, except Avery. He sat heavily, studying each of the occupants. The matching looks of feigned innocence made him edgy. “What’s the matter?”
Avery asked, “Agent Lee, what’s the background on Major Vance?”
“Like everything else at DHS, I think that’s classified.” Gossip about a fellow officer didn’t sit well with him, but the girl deserved some information about the men hounding her. Besides, nothing he’d tell her couldn’t be secured from a Freedom of Information Act request. Or his personnel file, which he’d reviewed that morning after Vance’s call. “Major Vance is the official liaison from Homeland Security to the president.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“I don’t draw the org charts, Ms. Keene. What I know is that Major Vance was formerly Secret Service, and before that, he was in the military. After President Stokes’s election as vice president, he shifted from the Secret Service to S&T, with a direct assignment to coordinate with the president on certain Homeland Security matters.”
“Is he a scientist by training?”
“Has a BS in biochemistry and a master’s in biologics,” Agent Lee offered. He’d pulled the man’s service record and had been impressed despite himself. “Major Vance went through the Naval Academy, received a commission in the Marine Corps. Attained the rank of major before receiving an honorable discharge. Came stateside and joined the Secret Service.”
“Where was he stationed in the Marines?”
“Classified,” he answered, then clicked his teeth shut. The sensation of interrogation was jarring to a man used to the other side of the conversation. He stroked his chin where beard growth had started. “Why the twenty questions? I know you two didn’t exactly click, but I’d be offended if you grilled him this way about me.”
“I appreciate your help, Agent Lee. Are you going to babysit us all day?”
“No. Leighton’s got this one.” He shoved away from the table and stood. “Let her know when you’re ready to move.”
After Agent Lee exited the room, he and Leighton moved away to talk, and Jared spoke quickly: “I accessed some files at the Pentagon. Major Vance was assigned to FORECON and CBIRF during his service.”
“CBIRF?” Avery asked.
“Chemical Biological Incident Response Force.” He rose and paced to the opposite end of the room, his voice pitched low. “CBIRF is a strategic unit of the Marines designed to manage the consequence of chemical and biological threats to national security.”
“Where was he stationed?”
“Like Agent Lee said, it’s classified, but most of CBIRF’s postings in the last twenty years have focused on the Greater Middle East, where various despots have threatened to use chemical weapons.”
Avery considered the implications. Major Vance, a high-ranking Marine from an elite unit dedicated to chemical and biological weapons research—tasked by President Stokes to serve as his liaison from the virtually unknown Science and Technology Directorate at the impenetrable DHS. Assigned to a region roiled by ethnic tensions. Hygeia. The Middle East. Chromosomal research. Biological weapons.
Look to the river.
She turned to Noah. “What’s going on with the case?”
“I think we’re ready for the custody hearing on Monday, but I can ask Judge McAdoo to postpone again.”
“Would she? I don’t know much about the bench at the probate court.”
“I’ve appeared before her several times. She’s pretty fair-minded, but not a pushover. The higher your profile goes, the easier it is for Celeste to argue fitness.” He lifted his shoulders in a speculative shrug. “Postponement may buy us a few days to rebut the Gazette’s story. Maybe offer the Post an exclusive with you as counterprogramming.”
“And she’ll still have Rita to hold over my head. The drug abuse and rehabs. They could insinuate that I may be like her.”
“Guardianship is a judgment call, in the strictest sense. If Judge McAdoo doubts your ability to make good choices for Justice Wynn, she’s well within her rights to strip you of guardianship. If we had more proof of his intent—”