Page 16 of Caught
“That’s a pretty big clerical error,” Ryan said.
“Is it? I don’t think so. It could have been something as simple as a misplaced decimal point on a spreadsheet. Although, again, I have no firsthand knowledge because DCIS wasn’t brought in to investigate. That fact, itself, is evidence that the alleged theft never happened.”
As a lawyer, Ryan knew better than most people that it was impossible to prove a negative, but Slidell’s casual dismissal of the possibility struck him as odd. A quick glance at Omar’s skeptical face convinced him that he wasn’t the only one.
He switched gears. “So why did DCIS take possession of Natsuo’s laptop and phone and wipe them clean?”
“You seem to know quite a bit about DCIS activities,” the chief of staff observed in a mild tone. “Mr. Ito’s electronic devices contained sensitive information related to an investigation with national security implications. I’m afraid I’m not at—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re not at liberty to share any details. You must realize I have the highest levels of clearance,” Jake said.
“Not quite high enough for this, Mr. West.” Slidell smiled tightly.
“Okay, let’s try this. Did the murder of Grover Anderson last night have anything to do with this national security issue?” Ryan asked.
Slidell answered in a sardonic tone, “Speaking of fantastical stories, I heard you and Mr. Khan’s sister are the prime suspects in that killing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Ryan’s driver’s license. “I told the Talbot County authorities that I’d take possession of this. I suppose you’d like it back.”
He slid the ID into his wallet. “You went to Saint Michael’s? Why would you do that if Grover’s death isn’t related to your investigation?”
“Call it professional curiosity. Now, for the message and the warning. The deputy inspector general is ordering you to stand down. Do not interfere with our investigation. Ah, I can predict your objection. If you don’t know what we’re investigating, how can you know what to stay away from? It’s simple, really. Leave this alone. All of it. Go back to West Virginia or wherever you people work and provide security to oil barons and spoiled movie stars.”
Ryan clocked Trent’s clenched jaw and Omar’s balled fists. But Jake was implacable—at least outwardly. He took a page out of Napoleon Bonaparte’s book and often wielded “an iron fist in a velvet glove.”
“And the warning?” Jake asked calmly.
Slidell’s eyes moved from Jake to Ryan to Trent and then to Omar. “What I’m about to say is not the Department of Defense’s position. It’s my personal belief. Some of the individuals interested in the ketamine case, the Cortez criminal matter, and the tragic deaths of Mr. Ito and Mr. Anderson are not acting in their official capacities or under the color of law. They have their own interests and motivations. The failed, somewhat clumsy, attempts on Mr. Hayes’ life shouldn’t lull you into a false sense of security. These are dangerous people.”
Ryan rested a hand on Reggie Slidell’s sleeve. “If you believe that, tell us who we’re dealing with. At least give us that much.”
Slidell stared at Ryan’s hand until he withdrew it. “I can’t.” He unfolded his long legs and stood. “Goodbye, gentlemen.”
They watched in silence as he made his way down the path toward the street. After he disappeared from view, Omar cleared his throat. “So which agency is he pointing us to—the DEA or the FBI?”
“Could be either,” Ryan said in frustration. “Or it could be a misdirection. Maybe he knows the bad actors are military.”
“Or none of the above. Or all of the above. He didn’t actually tell us diddly-squat,” Jake noted.
“Not exactly. He told us one thing, even if he did it inadvertently. We’re on the right track with the ketamine. There’s no way DCIS didn’t get a call about four thousand missing multi-dose vials of drugs. Even if someone found them later or fixed a spreadsheet, they still would have called DCIS right away. It’s procedure,” Ryan insisted.
Trent cocked his head. “What’s the street value of that much ketamine, Omar?”
“Two, three years ago? It would’ve been at least a million. And it could be a lot more than that, depending on how many doses they could get out of a single vial.”
“Assuming they shut down distribution after Cortez was killed, someone could still be sitting on a mountain of special K worth a small fortune. And they’d have their own motivations and interests, as Reggie Slidell would say.” Trent shook his head.
They fell silent, considering this. Ryan knew that even federal agents, prosecutors, and officers were flawed humans. They were as susceptible to temptation as anyone else. It was a sobering thought, and one that served only to increase the universe of possible suspects.
Jake shook his head as if to displace a thought and pushed up from the bench. “Let’s move out. Trent, text your fiancée and see what those four are up to. Shopping, my foot.”
Omar snorted. Ryan laughed. Even Trent cracked a smile.
7
“We should have thought this through better,” Leilah whispered through her clenched teeth as she eased the Porsche past the sign for Fort Detrick’s Nallin Farm Gate. Her hands shook.
Beside her, Olivia kept her eyes forward and gave her an encouraging answer. “All the guard is going to do is take our drivers’ licenses and run them through NCIC III. Relax.”
Squished next to Marielle in the 911’s cramped back seat, Chelsea carped, “Easy enough to relax when your knees are hitting your nose. Can we just get this over with?”
