Riggs made the phone call. The man on the other end was understandably excited. Within a few minutes Riggs was inside the Hoover Building and being escorted by an armed guard to his destination.
The conference room he was deposited in was large but sparsely furnished. He passed by the chairs gathered around the small table, and remained standing waiting for them to arrive. He took a deep breath and almost cracked a smile. He had come home, in a manner of speaking. He scanned the room for any hidden cameras, and saw nothing obvious, which meant the room was probably under both audio and video surveillance.
He swung around when the door opened and two men dressed in white shirts and similar ties entered.
George Masters extended his hand. He was large, nearly bald, but his figure was trim. Lou Berman sported a severe crew cut and a grim demeanor.
“It’s been a long time, Dan.”
Riggs shook his hand. “It’s Matt now. Dan’s dead, remember, George?”
George Masters cleared his throat, looked nervously around, and motioned Riggs to sit down at the nicked-up table. After they were all seated, George Masters inclined his head toward the other man. “Lou Berman, he’s heading up the investigation we discussed over the phone.” Berman nodded curtly at Riggs.
Masters looked at Berman. “Dan”—Masters paused, correcting himself—“Matt was one of the best damned undercover agents we ever had.”
“Sacrificed a lot in the name of justice, didn’t I, George?” Riggs eyed him evenly.
“You want a cigarette?” Masters asked. “If I remember correctly, you were a smoker.”
“Gave it up, too dangerous.” He looked over at Berman. “George here will tell you I stayed in the ball game one inning too many. Right, George? Sort of against my will, though.”
“That was all a long time ago.”
“Funny, it still seems like yesterday to me.”
“Goes with the territory, Matt.”
“That’s easy to say when you haven’t watched your wife get her brains blown out because of what her husband did for a living. How’s your wife by the way, George? Three kids too, right? Having kids and a wife must be nice.”
“All right, Matt. I get your point. I’m sorry.”
Riggs swallowed hard. He was feeling far more emotion than he had expected, but it did feel like yesterday and he had waited half a decade to say this. “It would’ve meant a lot more if you had said it five years ago, George.”
Riggs’s stare was so intense that Masters finally had to look down.
“Let’s get down to it,” Riggs finally said, breaking out of the past.
Masters put his elbows up on the table and glanced over at him. “FYI, I was in Charlottesville two nights ago.”
“Beautiful little college town.”
“Visited a couple of places. Thought I might see you.”
“I’m a working man. Gotta keep busy.”
Masters eyed the sling. “Accident?”
“The construction business can be very hazardous. I’m here to strike a deal, George. A mutually satisfactory deal.”
“Do you know where LuAnn Tyler is?” Berman leaned forward, his eyes darting all over Riggs’s face.
Riggs cocked his head at the other man. “I’ve got her down in the car, Lou, you want to go check? Here.” Riggs reached in his pocket, pulled out a set of keys, and dangled them in front of the FBI agent. They were the keys to his house, but Riggs figured Berman wouldn’t take him up on the offer.
“I’m not here to play games,” Berman snarled.
Riggs put the keys away and leaned forward. “Neither am I. Like I said, I’m here to make a deal. You want to hear it?”
“Why should we deal? How do we know you’re not working with Tyler?”
“What do you care if I am?”
Berman’s face turned red. “She’s a criminal.”
“I worked with criminals most of my career, Lou. And who says she’s a criminal?”
“The state of Georgia.”
“Have you really looked at that case? I mean really looked at it. My sources say it’s bullshit.”
“Your sources?” Berman almost laughed.
Masters intervened. “I’ve looked at it, Matt. It probably is bullshit.” He glowered over at Berman. “And even if it isn’t, it’s Georgia’s problem, not ours.”