The Imposter's Trail (The Sean Kruger Series Book 3) Page 4

  Twenty minutes later, as Bishop watched the boarding of the doomed flight, he saw Stewart hand the boarding pass to the agent at the gate, never once looking at it. As the man disappeared into the jet bridge, Bishop smiled, turned and left the airport.

  Four hours later Malaysia Airline Flight 24 disappeared over the Indian Ocean.

  Three hours passed before Arane stepped out of the back room and handed the passport to Bishop. After flipping through the document he smiled. “Very good, Arane. Very good.”

  “You owe eight thousand US dollars.” Arane held his hand out and grinned. “You pay big bonus for quick job, right?”

  “Yes, Arane, I will pay you a bonus for your excellent work.”

  Bishop reached behind his back and withdrew the Glock. He pointed it at the forger and fired. The hollow point 9mm bullet pierced the skull just above Arane’s left eye. His life ended before he realized there would be no more forging jobs to perform.

  Bishop stepped over the body. “No good deed shall go unpunished.”

  He retrieved the laptop and digital camera, placing them in a black canvas bag he found next to the desk. After wiping down all the surfaces he remembered touching, he retrieved the brass casing ejected by the gun.

  Looking around the room, he felt satisfied nothing remained to incriminate him. Walking to the door of the dingy office, he opened it and glanced up and down the dimly lit hallway. Seeing no one, he locked the door, pulled it shut, and casually left the building. Gunshots were common in this part of Bangkok. As with the baggage handlers neighbors, everyone knew not to be too inquisitive.

  Chapter 5

  Springfield, MO

  Sean Kruger, Ph.D. and recent retiree from the FBI, read the paragraph for the third time, still not comprehending what the undergraduate writer was trying to convey. His six-foot frame leaned back in a squeaky desk chair with his scuffed brown loafers propped on an ancient gray metal desk. Grading the essay portion of the semester’s final exams was challenging his alertness as his eyelids kept spontaneously closing. Taking his feet down, he concluded the one he held was hopeless. Giving up on trying to understand the student’s logic, he placed the paper on his desk and circled the opening paragraph with red ink. As a final note of his frustration, he made several big question marks at the top of the page.

  Putting down the pen, he removed his reading glasses, placed his elbows on the desk and leaned forward to press the palms of his hands against his eyes.

  There was a knock on his closed office door.

  “Come in, it’s open.”

  Opening the door was a tall slender man in his late sixties. He wore a navy blazer, white button down oxford shirt, khaki cotton pants, shiny loafers, and boldly colored socks. He bore an uncanny resemblance to the actor Morgan Freeman.

  The man smiled. “You look bored.”

  “I am. Grading final exam essays isn’t exactly my favorite thing to do. Necessary, but that doesn’t make it fun.”

  “Just give multiple choice questions. Easier and faster to grade than essays.”

  Kruger chuckled and nodded. “True, but you can’t truly test a student’s knowledge that way.”

  The visitor sat down in a straight-backed metal chair in front of Kruger’s desk. “I remember a post-grad student, many years ago, who used to blow the minds of his professors with his essays.”

  “Urban legend.”

  “It’s true. I read them before I started recruiting you.”

  Kruger gave his visitor a weak grin. “What brings you to campus, Joseph?”

  Looking around the small gloomy basement office, the visitor chuckled. “Quaint.”

  “I don’t need a large fancy office. I’m only here a few hours a day for students. Most of my work is done at home.” Leaning toward the man sitting across from him, his eyes narrowed. “Again, Joseph, why are you here?”

  “Should I call you Dr. Kruger?”

  “You do, and I’ll shoot you.”

  “Does that mean you still carry a weapon?”

  Kruger smiled. “Only during class.”

  Joseph grinned at the comment, then his expression darkened. “We need to talk. But not here.”

  Looking at the small clock on his desk, Kruger started placing final exams in his backpack. “My office hours were up a half hour ago. Let’s go grab a beer somewhere.”

  Twenty minutes later, the two friends sat in the back corner of a sports bar a few blocks from Kruger’s house on the south side of town.

  “So what’s the big mystery we couldn’t discuss in my office, Joseph?”

  Casually looking around before he spoke, Joseph leaned toward Kruger. “Do you remember Roy Griffin?”

  Kruger nodded. Roy Griffin was a member of the United States House of Representatives from a district south of San Francisco. Kruger and his team saved the congressman and his wife a year earlier from an assassin’s bullet.

  “Did you know he was drafted as a Senate candidate last fall and elected in November?”

  “I remember reading something about it. Why?”

  “His party is now in the majority, and he was named Chairman of the Homeland Security and Government Affairs Committee.”

  “Good for him.”

  “He’s a rising star in Washington, Sean.”

  Kruger shook his head. “Too bad, I thought he was a good guy.”

  “He still is. The president likes him.”

  “Joseph, what are you dancing around? Get to the point.”

  They both stopped talking as a young waitress placed two beers on the table. Joseph thanked her and watched as she walked away. He turned back to Kruger. “I am. Stay with me. Do you know we found the Imam from San Francisco?”

  Kruger’s eyes narrowed, and his head shook slightly.

  “He was found in Paris four months after you stopped the vans.”

  As he listened to Joseph, Kruger’s thoughts returned to the last investigation of his FBI career. A year ago, almost to the day, he started searching for a group of individuals targeting rich businessmen. As it turned out, their actions were a diversion for a well-planned and highly sophisticated terrorist attack planned on the Walmart Annual Shareholders meeting in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Three vans loaded with explosives were sent to the Bud Walton Arena where the meeting was taking place.

  “I didn’t stop them, Joseph. I had a good team; they deserve the credit.”

  “Everyone knows that, Sean. Your team is why two of the vans didn’t reach their destination. But guess who stopped the last one before it could explode inside Bud Walton Arena and saving thousands of lives?” He paused for a few seconds waiting for his friend’s response. When there was none, he leaned forward in his chair. “You.”

  The explosion almost killed him. With a new wife and adopted baby girl now part of his life, he retired to teach Psychology at a large university in Southwest Missouri.

  “Where’s the Imam now?”

  “No longer a problem.” Joseph raised his beer to his lips, but before taking a drink, said, “He had an unfortunate accident on a busy street in Paris. Seems he stumbled into the path of an oncoming delivery truck.” He drank, then placed the beer mug back on the table. “I was told it was messy.”

  Kruger smiled grimly. “I take it he’s the only one they’ve found.”

  “A correct assessment.”

  “Joseph, you and I both know more individuals were involved.”

  Taking another sip from his beer, Joseph nodded.

  Raising his glass for the first time and taking a sip, Kruger looked over the rim of the glass. “I know I’m going to regret asking, but why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Senator Griffin has been holding closed door inquiries about the incidents. No press. He would like for you to testify. No pressure, but the first time you can be in Washington, he would like for you to meet with his committee.”

  Kruger was about to take another sip of beer, but stopped. He sat up straight, frowned and stared at Jose
ph. “I’ve been retired from the FBI for a year now, Joseph. I wouldn’t know anything new, therefore, there’s no need for me to testify.”

  “Did you know Ryan Clark stayed with the Bureau?”

  “Yes, we’ve kept in touch.”

  “Ryan testified about the two Washington, D.C., assassinations he investigated with the Alexandria PD. Your name came up.”

  “I was there as a consultant, nothing more.”

  “Clark gave details about how you two tracked Norman Ortega from St. Louis to San Francisco.”

  Kruger frowned. “Did he mention JR during his testimony?”

  “No, I had a word with him before. Since Charlie Craft was working with JR at the time, he got the credit.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you know how many individual careers you helped advance with your investigation of that one incident?”

  Staring out one of the plate glass windows, Kruger slowly shook his head.

  “Paul Stumpf is now the director of the FBI, Alan Seltzer is the deputy director, Roy Griffin is a senator, Ryan Clark is an up-and-coming investigator with the Bureau, and Charlie Craft is now over the Cyber Branch of the agency. All of these advances came because of you.”

  Kruger smiled. “I didn’t know about Charlie. Good for him.”

  “The only person who didn’t benefit from your hard work was you.”

  “I did benefit. I retired.”

  “Why?”

  “You know my reasons.”

  “They were the wrong reasons, Sean.”

  A dark mood swept over Kruger. He set his beer down hard and glared at Joseph. “You of all people know the sacrifices of devotion to career, so don’t lecture me about my reasons. I never questioned doing the Bureau’s bidding while my son grew up. During those years, I missed key events in his life a father shouldn’t miss. Most people don’t get second chances. I get one with Stephanie and our daughter Kristin. So if you don’t mind, I’ll not be repeating my mistakes.”

  Joseph put his hands up, palms toward Kruger. “Wrong choice of words. Sorry.”

  Kruger gripped his beer with both hands and watched the tiny bubbles ascended to the surface.

  “There were other options. Retirement wasn’t the best one.”

  “I’ve been in facility meetings more enjoyable than this conversation, Joseph. What’s on your mind? I’ve never heard you this vague, and we’ve known each other for thirty years.”

  Taking a deep breath, Joseph slowly let it out. “They want to expand my responsibilities, Sean. Your investigation last year uncovered a simmering problem the FBI, CIA, NSA and all the other agencies ignored for years.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Domestic terrorism. Not immigrants who come here to cause havoc. Terrorists who are born and bred here. Hell, they’re US citizens. Congress is wringing its collective hands about changing gun laws, but that won’t stop anything. We have to identify these people before they commit atrocities.”

  Kruger tilted his head to the side. “You’ve never told me what your real responsibilities are, Joseph. What responsibilities does the president want to expand?”

  It was now Joseph’s turn to stare out the plate glass window. “I’ve been a talent scout for the government for years.”

  Kruger nodded. “You’re the reason I joined the Bureau. I know that part, what else?”

  Hesitating, Joseph took a sip of his now warm beer. “The problem the United States has fighting terrorism is the separate functions of each agency. The FBI is for domestic problems, the CIA is for foreign ones, and the NSA can only listen. It’s more complicated than that, but it summarizes the issue. The president asked me to take on a project last year after the Imam had his accident.”

  Not taking the bait, Kruger remained silent.

  “Here’s the part where you’re supposed to ask me what the project is.”

  Kruger chuckled. “You’re dancing again, Joseph. What the hell are you trying to say?”

  “The President of the United States wants an audience with you and me tomorrow at 4 p.m.”

  “Why?”

  “He didn’t go into detail. Roy Griffin will be there as well.”

  “JR is getting married this weekend, I’m not going to miss it.”

  Nodding, Joseph gave Kruger a slight grin.

  “Trust me, we won’t. I’m the best man.”

  Chapter 6

  Washington, D.C.

  It was two minutes before noon when Kruger, followed by Joseph, exited the plane at Reagan National Airport. It was the first time he had flown to Washington, D.C., in over a year. He was not sure what he felt, but knew it was not excitement. The summons to Washington was confirmed when the President’s Chief of Staff called with an itinerary and hotel accommodations. It was Tuesday, and he was scheduled to be here until Thursday.

  Joseph caught up to him as they made their way to the passenger pick-up area of the airport. “We have a ride waiting.”

  Kruger remained quiet.

  “I’m glad you decided to attend.”

  Kruger shot Joseph an angry glare. “Just make sure we’re out of here Thursday.”

  “We will be.”

  Staring ahead as they walked, Kruger nodded.

  Joseph gave Kruger a grin. “You were bored and restless. Stephanie saw it, I saw it, even JR saw it. You’ve got to admit, JR doesn’t normally notice those types of subtleties.”

  Kruger remained silent.

  As they walked out of the terminal, Joseph spotted their ride, a black GMC Yukon Denali with dark tinted windows. He pointed toward it, and Kruger followed. Both put their overnight bags in the back, and Joseph slipped into the front passenger seat. Kruger got in the back. The vehicle started moving just as Kruger shut the door.

  Joseph turned to the driver, a large man with bulging biceps, blond hair cut short, a deep tan from too much time outdoors, and mirrored Ray-Ban sunglasses. He was dressed in a dark gray business suit and when Joseph sat down, a small grin appeared on his face.

  “Good to see you, Major. Thanks for the lift.”

  Major Benedict “Sandy” Knoll nodded. “My pleasure sir. It’s always good to see you.” He looked in the rearview mirror at Kruger. “Welcome back, Agent, glad to hear you’re joining our little party.”

  Smiling from the back, Kruger ignored the implications of the last statement. “I haven’t seen you since you left the hospital. How are you doing?”

  “Wouldn’t even know I got shot, except when it gets cold out, damn thing aches like a mother.” Joseph brought Knoll in four years earlier, along with several other experts, to protect JR and his then-girlfriend Mia. During an altercation with one of the individuals searching for JR, Knoll was shot twice, and another man was killed. “I understand JR and Mia are getting married.”

  “This weekend.”

  “Good. Great couple. Glad we kept them out of the shit.”

  Smiling, Kruger nodded and stared out the window as they exited Reagan National Airport. Ignoring the conversation in the front seat of the Denali, his thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Stephanie just before leaving for the airport.

  “Are you two going to be okay?”

  “Sean, stop worrying. It’s only for two nights. Kristin and I will be fine. Besides, I’m already seeing a change in your demeanor.”

  Kruger stopped packing his overnight bag, turned and stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  She chuckled. “After you decided to attend this meeting, you’ve had a spring in your step. Your old self is starting to come back out, don’t you see it?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, you are acting different. Last night you slept all night for the first time in months. You walk just a little straighter and faster, like you have somewhere to go now. You’re the guy with the PhD in psychology, and you don’t see it. Amazing.” Her smile lit up the room. He had not seen her smile that way for a long time. Or was it, like she told him, his
perception was sharper, not dulled by the lack of anything mentally challenging?

  His attention was drawn back to the present when Joseph spoke, “There’s been a change in meeting locations.”

  “Where now?”

  Joseph turned in his seat so he could look at Kruger as he answered, “First floor conference room at the White House, not the Oval Office.”

  “Thought there was only going to be the four of us.”

  “I know, but I just got a text from Senator Griffin. Apparently the President feels this is an important meeting, so he’s called more advisors.”

  “Wonderful,” Kruger’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “How many people know we’re meeting with the President?”

  Joseph shrugged. “You know as much as I do.”

  ***

  For the second time in his life, Kruger walked into the White House for a meeting. After being dropped off by Sandy, he and Joseph were escorted to a conference room. Standing around the table were Senator Roy Griffin, FBI Director Paul Stumpf, CIA Director Dwight King, Director of the NSA Admiral Leland Berry, Secretary of Homeland Security Joanne Black, and the President’s Chief of Staff, Bob Short. Pointing to two chairs next to Stumpf, Short said, “He’s running about five minutes late. Not bad for a Tuesday.”

  Kruger stood next to Stumpf and shook his hand. Stumpf leaned close to Kruger’s ear and whispered, “The President was glad you agreed to attend.”

  Before he could respond, Bob Short started introducing Kruger to everyone. Joseph was not introduced and called everyone by their first name as they shook hands. Another interesting factoid about Joseph, the man seemed to know everyone. With introductions out of the way, a door opened on the other side of the room and President of the United States Lawrence Osborne entered the room. Everyone remained standing.

  With a disarming smile, the President sat down. “Thank you for coming everyone; please be seated.”