Deep Disclosure Page 8

  What was it Tucker had said? Better to hide in plain sight?

  “He’s always game for a round of Beat the Establishment. Especially when it involves computers.” Tucker, like her, was dressed in tourist attire. Jeans and T-shirt, an Angels cap on his head. In truth, she thought he had little in common with the overfed, underdressed tourists they’d passed. He was a lion among lambs. Even the way he walked seemed predatory. “I’ve worked with him a couple of times when I needed information on the fly. And he owes me one.”

  “And you’re calling in your marker for me?” They walked out of the park, past a couple having a caricature made. They looked so relaxed and happy—and nothing at all like the drawing emerging on the paper.

  “I am,” Tucker said. “I take my promises seriously.”

  “Right. George.” She knew she shouldn’t feel disappointed, but somehow she did. “You’re doing this for him.”

  “Look,” he said, shooting her a sideways glance, “I know you’re used to doing things on your own, but everybody needs a little help now and then.”

  “Even you?” she queried, not sure exactly why she’d asked the question, but curious now to hear the answer.

  “Especially me.” A shadow crossed his face, the emotion there so powerful it made her want to cry. But just as quickly it was gone, his jaw hardening as he pushed away whatever it was that tormented him.

  She’d heard him in the night, tossing and turning, locked deep in a dream. He’d called out for someone. She hadn’t been able to catch the name, but his pain had been evident and she’d been tempted to go to him, but something told her he wasn’t a man who easily accepted comfort.

  “We’re here,” he announced, pulling her from her thoughts, his hand warm on her elbow. They walked across the lobby and over to the elevators, waiting with a foursome of midwesterners arguing about the virtues of Aunt Sally’s Pralines versus the ones at Laura’s until the doors slid open.

  “What do you think?” one of the women asked Alexis. “Do you like your pralines thin and crisp or thick and chewy?”

  “Thin,” she answered with a smile. “Definitely thin.”

  “And you?” the woman continued, turning her attention to Tucker, her eyes taking in his lean hardness with appreciation. “What’s your preference?”

  “I’m not big on sweets,” he answered with a shrug. “But if I had to pick, I’d take chewy.”

  “Figures,” Alexis said as the elevator lurched upward.

  “Honey,” one of the woman’s friends said, “it’s the differences in life that make it worthwhile.” There was a titter of laughter as all four women admired Tucker.

  Alexis kept her eyes firmly on the ascending numbers, relieved when the doors opened and the women made their exit.

  “Nice ladies,” Tucker said, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smile.

  “They certainly seemed taken with you.” She reached up to pull off her hat, but stopped when Tucker shook his head, tipping his chin toward the tiny camera embedded in the wall above them.

  They waited in silence as the elevator rose to the top floor. The doors slid open, and they stepped into the hall. It was a small hotel, the floor T-shaped. Tucker steered her to the right.

  “So you think there’s a chance someone is monitoring the hotel security feed?” she asked, glancing behind her at the closing elevator doors.

  “Anything’s possible, and I figure it never hurts to be careful.”

  “You’ve done this kind of thing before?” It came out a question, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

  “Like you, I’ve lived my life in the shadows,” Tucker said as they stopped in front of room 417. “And in my world, we don’t ask questions. It’s just better that way.”

  “I didn’t mean to—” she started and then stopped. What the hell, she had meant to ask. She did want to know more about him. Although for the life of her, she wasn’t sure if it was because she was trying to protect herself or because he intrigued her.

  Tucker knocked on the door, and it was opened by a man with tousled brown hair and eyes that were both green and brown, as if they couldn’t quite make up their mind what color they wanted to be. “Hey,” Tucker said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Couldn’t pass on a chance to help a pretty lady,” the man replied, his eyes full of speculation even as his smile held her with its boy-next-door charm. “I’m Harrison.” He held out his hand.

  “And I’m Alexis.” Apparently, like Tucker, Harrison didn’t believe in last names. She shook his hand and then followed him into the hotel room. It was nicer than the apartment where they’d been staying. A suite, with a living room that opened out onto a balcony overlooking the square. A hotel room on Chartres didn’t come cheap.

  “Sorry,” he said, reading her mind, “I’m a sucker for good hotels. Especially with a view. Besides, I figured it was less likely someone would be watching for you here. Hiding—”

  “—in plain sight,” she finished for him. “I know. It’s practically become a mantra.”

  “Well, sometimes a cliché is a cliché for a reason.” Harrison smiled, a hint of laughter in his oddly colored eyes. “So have a seat, and let’s see if we can get into that bank of yours.” He picked up a laptop and dropped down into a chair by the window.

  “Have you had any luck with the man in the photo?” Tucker asked as he crossed to the window, looked out, then sat on the windowsill.

  “Not yet, but I haven’t given up. Might even have more for you while you’re here.” He nodded toward a second computer set up on the desk. It beeped and whirred almost as if it was part of the conversation. “I’m searching databases as we speak. Good thinking to take a picture. I’m assuming the body is MIA?”

  “Got it in one,” Tucker said. The conversation seemed absurdly normal considering the actual topic, and Alexis found herself wondering again how often Tucker, and for that matter Harrison, found themselves in this kind of situation. Clearly this wasn’t the first time for either of them. “When I went back to the house, someone had sanitized the scene.”

  “I’m assuming from the conversation you’ve already told Harrison everything that happened?” Alexis interjected, taking a seat on the sofa.

  “Yeah, when I called him last night. You said it was all right.” His gaze met hers, his eyes questioning.

  “Yes, of course.” She nodded, with a curt smile.

  “Okay,” Harrison said. “It’s Security Bank and Trust, right?”

  “Yes,” Alexis confirmed. “On Royal.”

  “Good I’ve already been working on their encryption. So when did the guy try to get into your safe deposit box?” Harrison asked, turning his attention to his laptop.

  “According to the assistant manager, three days ago. Around noon. He said it was a man on his own claiming to be my uncle. Except that I don’t have an uncle. Anyway, he managed to intercept the guy before he could access my box.”

  “Shouldn’t take too long,” Harrison said, tapping on the keyboard. “I’m already over halfway there. And once we’re in, it won’t take much longer to find the right time stamp.” He glanced up with a grin. “Trick is to do it without anyone realizing I’m in there.”

  “You were right.” Alexis smiled at Tucker. “He does love the challenge. So how did you guys meet? You said it was the friend of a friend?” The minute the words were out, she wished them back. Tucker had warned her about asking questions. But Harrison seemed unconcerned.

  “I did some virtual work for him. Referral through a friend. That went well, so he called me the next time he needed a little cyber snooping.”

  “Harrison is easy to work with,” Tucker added. “Knows just when to keep his mouth shut.”

  Alexis ducked her head, anger and embarrassment washing through her.

  “Don’t mind him,” Harrison said with a wave of his hand. “He’s always Mr. Doom-and-Gloom. ‘Watch your back.’ ‘Mind your words.’ Caution personified.”

&nbs
p; “Well, he’s right,” Alexis said, surprised at her desire to defend Tucker. “It does pay to be careful. I mean, if I’d just turned and run the minute I realized my house had been broken into, maybe none of this would have happened.”

  “Or maybe it would have just played out somewhere else,” Harrison said, his tone turning serious. “Somewhere without Tucker there to intervene.”

  “Believe me, I’m more than aware of how lucky I am.” She sighed, staring down at her hands, feeling not only inept but stupid as well.

  “Hey, right place, right time,” Tucker said. “ If I hadn’t been there, you’d have figured a way out.”

  She lifted her head, unable to stop her grateful smile. For a moment it was just the two of them, then Harrison cleared his throat.

  “I think I’ve got it.”

  Tucker crossed over to stand behind Harrison’s chair, motioning for Alexis to join him. Harrison tapped a couple of keys and the video became a still; another couple of keystrokes and he’d enlarged the image. Alexis could see Eli Munro standing with another man in the safe deposit vault. “That’s the bank manager,” she said, pointing out Munro.

  “And the other man?” Tucker asked. “Do you recognize him?”

  Alexis shook her head, disappointed. “No, I’ve never seen him before. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe the guy from the house.”

  “It’s possible they were working together,” Tucker said. “Harrison, you’ve got a copy of the still, right?”

  “Yes,” Harrison answered. “Got the entire sequence as well. It crosses a couple of cameras but I can splice it together. You want to see it from the beginning?”

  “Please.” Alexis bent over to get a better view of the screen. Harrison opened a program and, in short order, had the sequence spliced.

  “Here goes.” He hit a key, and the bank’s lobby came into view. A couple of seconds later, the unidentified man entered the bank. He stopped for a moment in the entrance, his gaze moving slowly around the lobby.

  “Clearly checking the place out,” Tucker observed.

  “Right,” Harrison said. “Now he’s headed for the vault.” There was a little blip, and the camera moved to the desk outside the safe deposit box vault. The man talked to the woman at the desk for a few seconds, and she buzzed him through to the vault. He disappeared from view, and the woman picked up the phone, presumably to call Mr. Munro. The screen switched again, this time to the camera inside the vault. The man stood in the center of the little room, drumming his fingers on the table as he waited.

  Munro arrived, and the conversation was fairly short, the man waving his hands in anger as he realized that he wasn’t going to be allowed access to the box. The two men talked a few minutes more, then Munro escorted the intruder from the room. Again the camera switched, this time to the lobby. The man emerged from the vault room and headed for the door, stopping once mid-lobby, then exited the bank.

  “Hang on,” Tucker said as Harrison paused the video. “Can you go back a few frames? To where the guy stops?” Harrison moved the video back to the point Tucker referenced. “Okay, now can you zoom in on the guy?”

  “Sure.” Harrison hit a key, and the man’s face filled the screen.

  “Okay now play forward.”

  This time Alexis could see the man shake his head, his attention on someone standing at the far corner of the lobby. “He’s signaling to someone.”

  “Looks that way,” Tucker agreed. “Any way we can zoom in on the corner?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem,” Harrison said, adjusting the screen so that the focus was now on a man standing near the teller windows. He was deep in shadow, and Harrison’s first attempt to zoom in on his features yielded a grainy, unidentifiable image. “Wait a minute—let’s see if I can clean this up.” With a couple of keystrokes the man’s face suddenly became clear.

  “That’s the man I killed,” Tucker said.

  “Which means we still have nothing.” Alexis sighed. “Just faces without names.”

  Tucker moved back over to the window, checking outside again. Then, seemingly satisfied, he turned back to face them. “At least we know for certain that the two incidents were connected.”

  From across the room Harrison’s second computer beeped, the sound making Alexis jump. “Does that mean we have an ID?”

  “Yeah.” Harrison leaned over the computer to study the screen. “And nothing particularly surprising, either. Jason Fogerty. A contract player.”

  “Contract player?” Alexis shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “A hired gun,” Tucker said. “Basically the man will do pretty much anything if the price is right.”

  “Looks like he made the NSA’s most interesting people list.” Harrison frowned down at the computer screen.

  “So he’s a terrorist?” Alexis felt her stomach revolting.

  “No.” Tucker shook his head. “Just someone they were watching. Mainly for his contacts, I suspect.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing.” She frowned over at Tucker. “I mean, what exactly was it you were doing before you landed in prison with George?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t like playing by the rules either.”

  “So you’re a contract player too?” she asked.

  “I’m someone who likes to help the little guy even the odds. People like you who get caught up in things they shouldn’t be caught up in.”

  “That’s not much of an answer.”

  “I could ask you how you wound up with George—but I haven’t. I could ask what happened to your family—but I haven’t done that, either. And you know better than most why I haven’t asked.”

  “Because it’s part of the code.”

  “Okay,” Harrison said, swiveling around to face them. “Now you’ve lost me. What code?”

  “People who live off the grid don’t ask each other questions,” Alexis explained. “They form a loose network, a family if you will. But they don’t ask for details. Everyone has a right to their secrets. And everyone has the right to choose whom they share those secrets with. So I was breaking the code when I asked Tucker about his life.”

  “Seems to me, in a situation like this one,” Harrison said with a shrug, “honesty is the only thing that’s going to keep you both alive. But then what the hell do I know? I’m just a lowly hacker.”

  “I’ve got the feeling there’s nothing at all lowly about you or your work.” Alexis laughed, grateful the tension had lifted.

  “So what else do we have on this guy?” Tucker asked. “Anything that would connect him to Atterley?”

  “Nothing specific. I’m running a more in-depth cross-check now, but a guy like Fogerty wouldn’t have obvious connections to anyone,” Harrison said, squinting at the screen as he scrolled through the file. “He’s American. Ex-military. Had a couple of low-level jobs in government security before he turned to more lucrative endeavors. He’s pretty much kept to the shadows, but there’s evidence linking him to arms dealers and drug runners out of Colombia.”

  Tucker and Harrison exchanged a look, an uncomfortable undercurrent suddenly filling the room. “What aren’t you telling me?” Alexis asked. “That this is somehow related to drugs? To Colombia?”

  “I’ve honestly got no idea,” Tucker said. “But we know that George was involved with moving illegal goods. It isn’t that far a leap to think this could be connected to trafficking.”

  “Look, I know George usually comes down on the wrong side of the law. But there’s no way he was involved with drugs.” Alexis crossed her arms, shaking her head. “He’d seen firsthand how it could affect people. He had a girlfriend in college who died of an overdose. That kind of thing stays with you.”

  “We’re all just guessing here. Trying to connect dots that might turn out not to have any relation at all. It’s possible Fogerty was exactly what we said—a hired gun,” Tucker said. “What about the guy in the bank? Any chance we can get an ID on him?”


  “Already ahead of you,” Harrison replied, hitting a couple of keys on the computer. “I’ve been searching databases using the picture from the security footage. Let’s see if the computer’s found anything.”

  A new screen opened, the picture of the man in the bank on the left, a series of photographs flashing across the screen on the right. It only took a few moments, and the screen froze; a box flashing the word MATCH. Harrison clicked on the box and another window opened, this one with the picture of a younger version of the man.

  “Well, this is odd,” Harrison said, scrolling down through the accompanying information. “I got a hit. But it’s not out of any of the criminal databases. It’s from DOD. The guy’s got a security clearance. Pretty damn high, in fact.”

  “So you’re telling me the man is a suit at the Department of Defense?” Tucker moved so that he could see the screen.

  “No.” Harrison shook his head, still scrolling. “He was part of the security detail there. But he’s been out now for a while.”

  “So he’s retired?”

  “Doesn’t say here. Just shows that he’s not at DOD anymore, and there’s no record he’s working for anyone else. Name’s Peter Dryker. Ring any bells?” Harrison’s gaze included them both, but Alexis knew the question was meant for her.

  “No.” Alexis’s stomach clenched at the thought that DOD might be involved in all of this somehow. It didn’t make any sense. Not after all this time, but she couldn’t ignore the possibility. “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Tucker said. “You sure you haven’t heard his name before?”

  “I’m positive.” She knew her words were clipped, but she couldn’t help it. She wasn’t ready to tell Tucker about her father. “I’m just spooked by the idea that somehow this whole thing could be tied to the government. George was always certain they were after him. Even after all this time.”

  “But George is dead, so even if this started out being about him, there’s got to be something that links this all to you.”