Page 89 of Holmes, Margaret and Poe

Mrs. McCoy started crying again and ran to her. “Oh my God, Judy. What am I going to do?”

CHAPTER 77

BREE DIDN’T GET ALLthe details, but based on what Agent Vicky Thomas was and was not saying, she figured that Agent Charles Stimson was gifted at undercover work and often went deep for three or four days at a time.

But twelve days without contacting his wife? Not a chance, according to Thomas.

“He’s devoted to her,” Thomas said. “She has early-stage ALS.”

“That’s a rugged road,” Bree said. “Do you know what he was working on?”

“You know I can’t —”

“Off the record? It won’t even make my report.”

“It better not.”

“On my honor.”

“He was interested in Amalgam. But he was more interested in the companies and people associated with Amalgam.”

“Israelis and Bulgarians?”

“Among others.”

“All foreign?”

“Not all. But there were Israelis and Bulgarians here that he was cultivating.”

“Undercover?”

“At times.”

“You think he was blown?”

“If he was, we haven’t gotten confirmation. But he hasn’t used any of the credit cards or identifications that are part of his cover. And he hasn’t used any of his personal cards. And that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

“You’ve been a big help.”

“Nothing about any of this in your report.”

“A promise is a promise. Not until you give me the okay. And thanks.”

“We never spoke,” Thomas said and ended the call.

Bree sat there at her desk a moment, pondering her next move. On a whim, she went to a law enforcement website and, using Alex’s username and password, entered the Virginia DMV database and searched for Charles Stimson in Groveton.

She soon had the driver’s license up on her screen. He had a big, blocky head, was a handsome guy with a nice smile. Six foot three. Two hundred pounds. Organ donor.

“Where are you, Charles? With the Bulgarians? Or the Israelis?” Bree muttered. She printed out a copy of Stimson’s ID. She thought about calling up the missing FBI agent’s wife or going over to talk with her. But under what pretext? And for what purpose?

Bree couldn’t imagine Stimson talking about his undercover work with his wife, especially when she was not law enforcement. Sitting back in her chair, eyes closed, Bree wondered whatelse she did not know about Leigh Anne Asher and Amalgam and the Israelis and the Bulgarians and the undercover agent whose cover may or may not have been blown.

It seemed a given to Bree that Asher knew the FBI was looking at the investments. According to Elena Martin’s source on the Amalgam board, Asher herself had decided not to notify the SEC about the inquiry.

But did Asher know the extent of it? The offshore accounts. The shell companies. Organized crime. The Israelis. The Bulgarians. And what the hell had she been doing in Florida using a fake Irish passport under her former name?

Bree remembered the photographs of the interior of the burned-out jet, how Asher’s charred body hung there. Did any of the mysteries surrounding the Amalgam CEO matter anymore?

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