Burying the Past Read online

  “Good timing, I was about to head over and see Crawford,” she said as she got up from her desk. “We haven’t had a major break, but there are a few things we can follow up on.”

  She surprised him then. Instead of turning to leave, she reached her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  “Good job on the press conference,” she said after she broke the kiss.

  “I didn’t really think it through, just kinda reacted.”

  “I know. You’re a good man. Ok, let's go see Crawford.”

  Crawford had been set up in a temporary office down the hall from Whitaker since the task force after Qasim was using mostly Bureau assets. He was leaning against his desk when we came in.

  “Good job with the media,” he said when they walked in.

  “I was just so shocked they already knew about it I didn’t know what else to say,” Taylor said, knowing Crawford had focused on a different part of the press conference than Whitaker had.

  “I was expecting it soon. Enough people end up at a hospital with an unknown form of chlorine poisoning and someone’s bound to call a reporter.”

  “I still can’t figure out why he chose that town of all places for a test,” Whitaker said.

  “My only thought is it has to be because the girl was there,” Taylor said. “The part I can’t figure is how a preacher's daughter from rural Virginia ended up hooked up with the likes of Qasim. We’re missing something to tie this all together. Until we figure that part out, we’re going to be a couple of steps behind him.”

  “Do we know anything about the shooters?” Whitaker asked.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you two about. We’ve heard back from some assets in Saudi Arabia. The Kingdom’s General Intelligence Directorate had files on them, but they’re spotty. They’re brothers named Kadi and Jehsn Billah. They were recruited into one of the more extreme Wahhabist factions about ten years ago when they were teenagers. They ended up on a Saudi watch list when they went even more radical and became followers of sheik Abdul Haleem al-Haider. They stayed with him for almost a year and then things get sketchy. It appears they left the group, reappeared in some pretty grainy photographs of an al-Queda training camp in Afghanistan two years later. There was one report from a village along the Pakistan border that mentioned them in a report about members of Aikhtar Al'Islam taking supplies by force. Which at least tells us these two weren’t on loan like the University of Tennessee cell, but actual members of Qasim’s group. What we don’t have is any record of either of them entering the US.”

  “Which means they came over the border with Qasim,” Taylor said.

  “Or before him,” Whitaker offered.

  “I don’t think so. If Qasim had enough time to put people in place before he got here, he would have set up everything he needed to work out his plan on his own. The fact that he’s drafting off of other organizations still means he didn’t have time, or at least the ability, to get his people in place early. No, I’d bet they came in with him.”

  “Which still gets us nowhere,” Whitaker said, her shoulders slumping.

  “No, but something else did. We had people going through any video feeds we could find in the surrounding towns, to see if we could pick up the Billah’s trail and follow it back when we got lucky. Of the newer gas stations up on the state road one town over had a video system with an actual backup system, which is surprising in its own right. I was shocked with how many places around here have cameras up for show and not hooked to anything. Anyways, we looked over their video and up pops our missing Miss Bennett.”

  “I’m guessing she was doing something more interesting than buying gas,” Whitaker said.

  “If you call buying burner phones interesting, then yes. The cherry on top of that little gift is this gas station is owned by a corporation that owns stations all over Virginia, and they have a policy of scanning and keeping the serial numbers of all the burner phones they sold.”

  “Tell me we matched the time codes and the company provided the call log.”

  “That they did.”

  “I thought these guys fought tooth and nail to not hand over that kind of thing without going through every legal fight,” Taylor said.

  “Normally, yes. But we currently have a rather wide-ranging subpoena with them on a domestic terrorism case, and we were able to roll this up with that.”

  “There’s no way that will hold up in court,” Whitaker said.

  “Probably not. Their in house counsel has been so slammed with requests lately he’s gotten sloppy, and we took advantage of it. I’ve got some Bureau guys drawing up subpoena’s now for our particular phones so we can make this all official, but I wanted to give us a head start.”

  “That still might not hold up,” Whitaker said.

  Taylor had heard her annoyed voice directed at him enough times to know she wasn’t happy with how accepting Crawford was of breaking the rules.

  “Maybe, but I’m willing to risk it. I want to get this guy before he goes after whatever the real target was. You two got out of Amberville before you saw the aftermath. If that goes off in a dense urban area, the death toll is going to be bad. Really bad.”

  “So what did the call log get us?” Taylor asked, knowing Whitaker wasn’t going to let this drop easily.

  “Most of her calls were to other burners we’re still working on tracking down, but she made one call to a landline.”

  “And?” Whitaker asked.

  “And I’m not sure. The number belongs to a residence in Michigan owned by a completely uninteresting, average family, as far as records can show. A couple and one child. Father’s an auto-mechanic, mother’s a secretary at the elementary school. Son’s a high school student with fairly average grades. No criminal records.”

  “How do they connect with Bennett?”

  “My money’s on the kid,” Taylor said.

  “Why?”

  “Only one that would fit. A co-ed isn’t going to be calling a middle-aged auto-mechanic three states over, and even less likely to call his wife. She’s not from there, so it’s not like they just ran into each other. How they’re connected I have no idea, it’s just where I’d start since it’s the least improbable.”

  “Well, either way, I’m sending you two up there tonight. Talk to them and see if you can figure out how this piece fits. We’ll keep digging, but I’m hoping your gut keeps doing its thing.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Taylor said.

  When they got out of Crawford's office Taylor pulled out his cell phone and called Kara.

  ''Hey,” he said when she picked up. "we have to go out of town for a few days. How do you feel about staying with Mary Jane for a few days?”

  "Better than I feel about staying with a stranger who keeps looking at me like I'm weird."

  "It's not that bad."

  "Maybe. I still prefer stay with May Jane. "

  "Good, I'll feel better with you having a friend to keep an eye on you."

  "You just like she has men with guns to watch us."

  "That too. You two be good."

  Ann Arbor, Michigan

  The trip was uneventful if a bit cramped in coach. Taylor couldn't help but think once again how much he preferred taking the Bureau's private plane. He may not be a fan of their bureaucracy, but it did have its perks.

  Taylor was also glad Justin Sampson, the kid they were after, lived in an actual city and not in the middle of nowhere. It was already getting fairly late, and Taylor didn't relish the idea of driving through the countryside in the middle of the night.

  Whitaker had called ahead and arranged for a few of Ann Arbor PD officers to meet them at the kids' house. Taylor thought it was unlikely they'd have another attack, but considering how off guard they'd been caught the last time, he couldn't fault Whitaker's caution.

  The Sampson's lived in a completely avenge house in a completely average neighborhood that practically screamed Middle America. The boys' parents were both confused an
d more than a little concerned when they opened the door to see FBI and a bunch of local police officers on their front lawn.

  A middle-aged man with graying brown hair wearing a somewhat tattered bathrobe answered the door, looking groggily at the officer in uniform behind Taylor in confusion.

  "Can I help you? "

  "I'm agent Whitaker with the FBI," she said, holding up her badge. "Is Justin Sampson here? "

  "What's this about? "

  "Are you his father?"

  "Yes."

  "It's probably best if we come in to talk."

  "Ok," he said stepping aside.

  The doorway led directly into the main room with a small dining area and entrance to a kitchen off to the right-hand side. Taylor and Whitaker headed for the living room while the locals spread out looking in the kitchen and hallway. The man started to protest their poking around when Whitaker started speaking, steamrolling over him.

  "Mr. Sampson. We believe a friend of Justin's is involved in a crime and were hoping Justin could answer some question for us about his friend."

  "Justin wouldn't get mixed up with someone like that. He's a good boy."

  "Sir, I know most parents can't imagine their kids getting into trouble, and I want to be clear, we aren't saying he's done anything. We think maybe he's gotten in over his head, maybe with a new girlfriend?”

  The man hesitated, looking at the floor as he stopped making eye contact with them.

  "Was there a new woman in his life?"

  "Well … yes … but you have to understand, Justin's a romantic. This is what he always does. He meets a new girl and, kind of … disappears. He just wants to be involved in their lives and tries to make himself into what he thinks they want him to be. It's his pattern."

  "So he usually takes a backseat in relationships?" Whitaker asked.

  "More like he’s a doormat."

  "I take it that you haven't seen him recently then?" Taylor asked.

  "Not in a few weeks, no."

  "What do you know about this girl?" Whitaker asked.

  "Not a lot. I haven't met her or anything. "

  "Do you know her name? How long they've been together? Where they've been living? "

  "Living? No. I assumed it was here in town, but I don't actually know."

  "Her name then?"

  "No, sorry."

  Whitaker squinted her eyes as the interview started going nowhere. It seemed pretty clear to Taylor that Justin's mystery girlfriend was Mary Bennett, but that didn't actually get them anywhere.

  "How about how long ago did they meet?" Taylor asked.

  "I think about two months ago. I'm not one-hundred percent sure, since he doesn't really talk about them, so it's hard to know when he breaks up with one girl and starts dating a new one."

  "You first heard about this girl two months ago though, right?"

  "About that. Justin went camping around then, which for Justin is strange since he’s not the outdoor type. He got back from that with a wicked case of poison ivy and a sprained ankle, and was as happy as I can remember seeing him."

  "You said it's been a few weeks since you saw him. Did he give you any indication on where he was going?"

  "Not really. He said they were going camping again in West Virginia, but he wasn't specific on where."

  Taylor and Whitaker exchanged a look and then she asked, "Did he leave any way for you to get a hold of him. Maybe in case of emergencies?"

  "Or maybe a cell number?" Taylor added.

  "We never got him a cell, hoped he'd get off his butt and do it himself. Boy can't hold a damn job."

  "None of his girlfriends bought a disposable phone for him? " Whitaker asked hopefully.

  "Not that I know off."

  They spent a few more minutes asking questions but it rapidly became apparent Mr. Sampson had no idea when or where his son was.

  "That was a waste of time," Taylor said as they pulled away from the Sampson residence.

  They had thanked the officers who'd backed then up and were headed for a motel since there were no more flights back to DC until the next morning.

  "Not entirely. We now know that Sampson is almost certainly involved, which gives us one more person to look for. They'll pop up on someone radar at some point. We just have to be patient."

  "Patience is fine until Qasim sets his plan in motion and kills a bunch of people. "

  "One of them will slip up before then. I know you don't want to underestimate the man, but consider so far the cell he was using for logistical support showed themselves and two Americans he somehow recruited have already ended up in our sights."

  "Sure, but he's also managed to set off one gas attack that killed a dozen people."

  "And we were in place to kill two of the men he brought with him and evacuate several hundred would-be victims. Imagine how that would have gone down had we not been there. "

  "I guess," Taylor said, not sounding entirely convinced.

  "We'll get him, I promise."

  They found the motel near the airport and checked in. Once in the room, Whitaker called into Crawford and see what their next move should be while Taylor called to check in on Kara.

  "You girls being good?" Taylor asked when she answered. He could hear he was on speaker and Mary Jane in the background.

  "Of course I am being good," she said with a laugh. "I am Princessa."

  "You're something alright."

  "We all know you're crazy about her Taylor, so you can drop the grumpy old man act," Mary Jane said with a laugh.

  Taylor had nipped the 'Mr. Taylor’ nonsense in the bud almost as soon as they got back from Russia.

  "Is not act, he is grumpy and very, very old."

  Mary Jane laughed and said, "Now that we have that settled we want to hear the real news."

  "Huh?"

  "Have you popped the question?"

  "Kara!" Taylor warned.

  "You said no tell Loretta, and I no tell her. Plus, you should know girls tell best friends everything."

  Taylor made a non-committal sound and said, "Not yet, and you two mind your own business."

  "Pfft, like that's going to work," Mary Jane said. "Don't take too long. A woman won't wait forever."

  "Thanks, Prudence."

  When his reference went over their heads Taylor rolled his eye and continued.

  "We won't be able to get out of here until tomorrow morning. You two listen to Senator Caldwell and be good. We'll call you tomorrow when we know what time we're getting back."

  "We will," Kara said. "Love you."

  "Me too!" Mary Jane added.

  "Love you, too," he said and hung up, a smile on his face.

  Whitaker was still on the phone with Crawford, but she was staring at him with a goofy grin, confirming she had heard at least the end of his conversation with Kara. Taylor motioned for her to put the call on speaker.

  "...add him to the BOLO. It's not much, but every extra data point we have out on these people is the sooner we nail them."

  "I’m not convinced having them on a wanted poster is enough to catch them before Qasim hits whatever city he's after," Taylor said.

  "It's a whole lot more than just wanted posters. We're collecting a wide range of municipal and other video feeds and running them through facial recognition," Crawford said.

  The look on Whitaker’s face said she didn't agree with the ‘other video’ part of that, but Crawford kept going.

  "We've also called in support from National Reconnaissance Office for what satellites they have over the eastern seaboard. We've asked for flyovers of West Virginia, Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Maryland. I’ve also had a couple of drones tasked with additional surveillance of the area."

  "Seems like a long shot," Taylor said. "While I agree that it’s probably the area Qasim is probably working in, we don't know if his people are working in a group or solo, if they're trying to hide in the middle of nowhere or blend into population centers, or anything we can use to identify
them, like a particular vehicle."

  "Trust me, I'm skeptical too, but our analyst says they can feed everything into a computer and have it look for patterns. They're going to focus on areas we can’t cover effectively on our own like forest or mountain regions. I'm betting the thing that catches them will be either the BOLO or the facial recognition. Either way, I'm confident one of them will pop up soon."