the shock of it had moved her and Connie into hyper speed They’d
notified their superiors at the Bureau and quickly determined that no
FBI operation had been conducted at Adams’s address. Then the shit had
really hit the fan. The impersonation of FBI agents got the attention
of the director himself, and he had personally issued orders on the
case. Even though the back door to Adams’s apartment had been knocked
off its hinges and they could have walked right in, a search warrant
was fast tracked and executed, again with the director’s personal
blessing. Reynolds was actually relieved about that because she didn’t
want to have any slip-ups on this one. Any mistakes would come home to
roost right on her head.
The apartment was thoroughly searched by one of the Bureau’s crack
forensics teams, pulled off another high-profile case. In the end they
didn’t find much. There was no tape in the answering machine. That
had really ticked Reynolds off. If the phony FBI people had taken the
tape, there must have been something important on it. Her search team
had continued to strike out. There were no travel documents, maps
consulted, nothing that would hint as to where Adams and Lockhart were
going. They had found fingerprints matching Faith Lockhart’s, so that
was something. They were checking into Adams’s background. He had
family in the area; maybe they knew something.
They had discovered the roof hatch in the empty apartment next door to
Adams’s. Clever. Reynolds had also noted the extra locks, video
surveillance, steel door and frame and the copper shield over the alarm
panel. Lee Adams knew what he was doing.
They had retrieved the bag of hair and hair coloring from one of the
trash cans behind the apartment. That, together with the snips they
had seen of the airport surveillance tapes, showed that Adams was now a
blond, Lockhart a brunette. Not that this helped much. They were
checking into whether either of them had other residences listed in
their names elsewhere in the country. That was a needle in a haystack,
she knew, even if they had used their real names. She doubted they
would be that stupid. And even if they had used their aliases, the
names Suzanne Blake and Charles Wright were too common to aid Reynolds
very much.
The police officers who responded to the call at Adams’s apartment were
pulled in and questioned. The men posing as FBI agents had fed them a
story that Lee Adams was wanted in connection with a kidnapping ring
across state lines. The FBI posers’ credentials looked real, both
police officers were quick to point out. And they carried the
firepower and the professional swagger one normally associated with
federal law enforcement. They were searching the place expertly and
had made no move to run when the cruiser had shown up. The impostors
talked the talk and walked the walk in all respects, said the two
police officers, who were both veterans on the street. They had been
given the name of the supposed special agent in charge. It was run
through the FBI personnel database and came up negative. No surprise
there. The police officers had given descriptions of the men they had
seen, and a Bureau technician was creating computer images of them.
Still, all in all, it was a dead end, with frightening implications.
Implications that struck very close to home for Reynolds.
She had received another visit from Paul Fisher. He came with orders
right from Massey, as he was quick to point out Reynolds was to proceed
with all due speed, but with the utmost caution, to find Faith
Lockhart, and she could be assured of all the support she needed.
“Just don’t make any more mistakes,” he had said.
“I wasn’t aware I had made any mistakes, Paul.”
“An agent killed. Faith Lockhart falls into your lap and you let her
get away. What would you call those?”
“Leaked information caused Ken to die,” she had fired back. “I fail to
see how that was my fault.”
“Brooke,” Fisher had said, “if you really believe that, then you might
want to request reassignment right now. The buck stops with you. As