Island a short while later. The streets were dark, the businesses
closed. They were fortunate in finding an all-night gas station,
however. While Reynolds got two coffees and some pastries, Connie
found out from the clerk on duty where the airplane runway was located.
They sat in the gas station lot, ate, and mulled things over.
“I checked in at WFO,” Connie told Reynolds as he stirred sugar into
his coffee. “Interesting twist. Buchanan’s disappeared.”
She swallowed a bite of her pastry and stared at him. “How the hell
did that happen?”
“Nobody knows. That’s why so many people are catching grief over
it.”
“Well, at least they can’t blame that one on us.”
“Don’t be too sure of that. Laying blame is a fine art in D.C.” and
the Bureau ain’t no exception.”
Reynolds had a sudden thought. “Connie, do you think Buchanan could be
trying to rendezvous with Lockhart? That may be why he disappeared.”
“If we could nail them both at the same time, you might get appointed
director.”
Reynolds smiled. “I’ll settle for having my suspension lifted. But
Buchanan might be on his way here. What time did they say they lost
the tail?”
“Early evening.”
“Then he could already be here; hours ago if he took a plane.”
Connie sipped his coffee, while he thought this over. “Why would
Buchanan and Lockhart be doing anything together?” he asked slowly.
“Don’t forget, if were right about Buchanan hiring Adams, then maybe
Adams called Buchanan and they hooked up that way.”
“If Adams is innocent in all this. But he sure as hell wouldn’t call
Buchanan if he thought the guy had anything to do with trying to knock
off Lockhart. After all we’ve found out, I’m gauging the guy as her
protector, of sorts.”
“I think you’re right about that. But maybe Adams found out something
that made him believe Buchanan didn’t order the hit. If that was the
case, he might try to team with Buchanan to figure out together what
the hell was going on and who else was out there trying to kill
Lockhart.”
“Somebody else behind this? One of the foreign governments Buchanan
was working with, maybe? If the truth came out, they’d be sitting out
there with world-class egg on their face. That’s plenty of incentive
to kill somebody,” Connie said.
“I wonder,” Reynolds began, as Connie watched her closely. “There’s
just been something about this case that’s never added up,” she said.
“We’ve got somebody impersonating FBI agents. Somebody who seems to
know our every move.”
“Ken Newman?”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t seem to make sense either. Ken’s had cash
coming in for a long time. Has he been somebody’s mole for that long a
period of time? Or is it somebody else?”
“And don’t forget about whoever’s trying to frame you. Moving money
around accounts like that takes some expertise.”
“Exactly. But I just don’t see operatives of a foreign government
being able to do all that, and no one the wiser.”
“Brooke, countries conduct industrial espionage against us every day.
Shit, our staunchest allies even do it, ripping off our technology
because they’re not smart enough to do it on their own. And our
borders are so open it doesn’t take much to get in. You know that.”
Reynolds let out a deep sigh as she stared into the darkness lying
right outside the gas station’s harsh ring of lights. “I suppose
you’re right. I guess instead of trying to figure out who’s behind
this, we should try to find Lockhart and company and just ask them.”
“Now, that’s a plan I can relate to.” Connie put the car in gear and
they sped off into the darkness.
After locating the runway, Reynolds and Connie cruised the dark streets
looking for the Honda Gold Wing. Virtually all of the beach houses
appeared vacant now, which made their search both easier and more
difficult. It cut down the number of places they had to focus on, but
it also made the agents stand out more.
Connie finally spotted the Honda in the carport of one of the beach
houses. Reynolds eased out of the car and got a close enough look to