“And we found lots of interesting stuff,” Berman snapped.
“Good for you. Can I see the search warrant you used to enter my premises without permission?”
Berman started to say something and then clamped his mouth shut.
A thin smile broke across Riggs’s face. “Great. No search warrant. All inadmissible. And since when is it a crime to make a phone call and get some public information on someone? Considering that I got that information from the Feds.”
“Your WPP handler, not us,” Berman said threateningly.
“I guess I treat all you guys as one big, happy family.”
Masters started speaking slowly. “Supposing we do go along, you haven’t given us the connection between Tyler and this other person.”
Riggs had been expecting this question and was surprised it hadn’t come up before. “He had to get the money from somewhere.”
Masters considered this statement for a moment, and then his eyes flickered. “Listen, Matt, this is a little bigger than you probably know.” He looked over at Berman briefly before continuing. “We know — or rather we think — the lottery was . . .” Masters paused, searching for the right words. “We believe the lottery may have been compromised. Was it?”
Riggs sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on the table. “Maybe.”
Masters again chose his words carefully. “Let me make this real clear to you. The president, the A.G., the director of the FBI, they’ve all been apprised of this possibility. I can tell you that their collective reaction was one of absolute shock.”
“Bully for them.”
Masters ignored Riggs’s sarcastic tone. “If the lottery was fixed, then this situation has to be handled very delicately.”
Riggs chuckled. “Translation: If it ever gets out to the public, half the guys in Washington, including the president, the A.G., the director, and you two guys, will probably be looking through the want ads. So what you’re suggesting is a major cover-up.”
“Hey, this all probably happened ten years ago. It didn’t occur on our watch,” Berman said.
“Gee, Lou, that’ll go over real big with John Q. Public. All of your butts are on the line here and you know it.”
Masters banged his fist down on the table. “Do you realize what would happen if it becomes public that the lottery was fixed?” Masters said hotly. “Can you imagine the lawsuits, the investigations, the scandals, the blow it would give the old U.S. of A. right in the gut? It would almost be like the country defaulting on its debt. It cannot be allowed to happen. It will not be allowed to happen.”
“So what’s your suggestion, George?”
Masters rapidly calmed down and ticked off the points with his fingers. “You bring in Tyler. We question her, we get her cooperation. With that information in hand we bring in the people—”
“Person, George,” Riggs interrupted. “There’s just one of him, but let me tell you, he’s a very special one.”
“Okay, so with Tyler’s help we nail him.”
“And what happens to LuAnn Tyler?”
Masters spread his hands helplessly. “Come on, Matt, she’s got a state murder warrant out. She hasn’t paid taxes for almost a decade. I have to assume she was in on the lottery scam. That all adds up to a few lifetimes in prison, but I’ll settle for just one, maybe half of one if she’s real cooperative, but I can’t guarantee it.”
Riggs stood up. “Well, guys, it was nice talking to you.”
Berman was up in an instant and he slid over to the door, blocking Riggs’s exit.
“Lou, I’ve still got one good arm, and the fist attached to it is just itching like hell to plant one right across your face.” Riggs started to advance menacingly toward the door.
“Wait a minute, just hold it. Both of you sit down,” Masters bellowed.
Riggs and Berman engaged in a suitably lengthy stare-down and then slowly returned to their seats.
Riggs stared over at Masters. “If you think the woman’s going to waltz in here so she can risk her life in order to bring this guy down and then be rewarded by spending the rest of her life in prison, then you’ve hung around the Bureau too long, George. Your brains are gone.”
Riggs pointed a finger at him. “Let me fill you in on something. It’s the game of life and it’s called ‘who’s got the leverage.’ You call up the state of Georgia and tell them that LuAnn Tyler is no longer wanted for murder there, or for anything else. If she’s got a friggin’ parking ticket outstanding, then it’s wiped out. You understand me? Squeaky clean. Then you call up the IRS and you tell them that she’ll pay what she owes, but they can forget jail time. As far as being involved in any lottery scam, if the statute of limitations hasn’t already expired, then that goes away too. The tiniest infraction that could possibly put her in jail for even a second gets blotted out. Gone. She’s a free person.”
“Are you nuts?” Berman said.
“Or?” Masters said quietly, his eyes fixed on Riggs.
“Or, we go public with everything, George. What does she have to lose? If she’s going to go to prison for life, then she’s going to have to have some hobbies to fill up her days. I’m thinking appearances on Sixty Minutes, Dateline, Prime Time Live, maybe even Oprah. A book deal would probably be in the cards too. She can just talk her little heart out about the lottery being fixed, how the president and the A.G. and the FBI director wanted to cover it all up to save their jobs and how they were stupid enough to let a master criminal who’s been wreaking worldwide havoc for years walk away so they could put a young woman who grew up dirt-poor in prison for doing something all of us would’ve done in an instant!”
Riggs sat back and looked at both men. “That, gentlemen, is what I mean by leverage.”
While Masters considered this, Berman snorted. “One guy? I don’t believe that. We’re looking at a big organization. No way could one person do all the stuff I’ve been seeing on my radar screen. We haven’t been able to prove anything, but we know there are multiple players.”
Riggs thought back to the cottage, right before the knife sliced into his arm. He had stared right into the most deadly pair of eyes he had ever seen. Over the years working undercover in some very dangerous situations, he had been scared before; he was only human after all. But he had never before felt the nervous terror those eyes had aroused in him. If he had had a crucifix handy, he would have pulled it out to ward the guy off.
He looked at Berman. “You know, Lou, you’d be surprised. This guy is a master of disguise. He can probably play enough roles to fill a Broadway musical. And by going it alone, he never has to worry about anyone turning snitch on him or trying to cut him out.”
Masters started speaking in low tones as he tried a different tack. “Remember, Matt, not so long ago, you were one of us. You might want to think about that. You’ve obviously gained Tyler’s confidence. You bring her in, well, let’s just say your government would be very grateful. No more sawing and hammering to make a living.”
“Let me think about that for a second, George.” Riggs closed his eyes, reopened them almost instantaneously, and said, “Go to hell.”
He and Masters locked eyes. “What do you say, George? Is it a deal? Or do I go and phone Oprah?”
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Masters nodded.
“I’d really love to hear you say it, George.”
Berman started to cut in, but Masters stared him into silence.
“Yes, it’s a deal,” Masters said, “no jail.”
“Georgia too?”
“Georgia too.”
“You sure you can do that? I know your authority is limited there.” Riggs’s tone was taunting.
“Mine is, but I don’t think the president of the United States has that same problem. My instructions are to avoid public exposure at all costs. I guarantee that either he or the A.G. will make that phone call.”
“Good, now get the director and the attorney general in here, because I want to hear the
same things from them. By the way, is the president busy today?”
“There’s no way in hell the president is meeting with you.”
“Then get the director and the A.G. in here, George. Right now.”
“You don’t trust my word?”
“Let’s just say your track record hasn’t inspired my confidence all that much. And I take comfort in numbers.” He nodded at the phone. “Make the call.”
Masters and Riggs stared across at each other for at least a minute. Then Masters slowly picked up the phone and spoke into it at length. It took some schedule-juggling, but within thirty minutes the director of the FBI and the attorney general of the United States were sitting across from Riggs. Riggs presented the same deal to them he had presented to Masters, and he extracted the same promises.
Riggs rose. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
Berman got up too. “All right, if we’re working together now, bring Tyler in, we can wire her, get a team together, and go get this ‘one man crime wave.’ ”
“Uh-uh, Lou. The deal was I’d bring him in, not the FBI.”
Berman looked ready to explode. “Listen you—”
“Shut up, Lou!” The FBI director’s eyes bored into him and then he turned to look at Riggs. “You really think you can pull this off?”
Riggs smiled. “Have I ever let you guys down before?” He glanced over at Masters.
Masters didn’t return the smile, but just continued to study Riggs’s face. “If you don’t, all bets are off. For Tyler.” He paused and then added ominously, “And you. Your cover’s blown. And I’m not sure how much incentive we’d have to reestablish it. And your enemies are still plenty active.”
Riggs walked across the room to the door, but then turned back. “Well, George, I never really expected anything less from you guys. Oh, and don’t try to have me followed. That’ll just piss me off and waste a lot of time. Okay?”
Masters nodded quickly. “Sure, don’t sweat it.”
The big-voiced attorney general asked a final question. “Was the lottery fixed, Mr. Riggs?”
Riggs looked back at her. “You bet it was. And you want to know the kicker? It looks like the United States Lottery was used to finance the plans of one of the most dangerous psychopaths I’ve personally ever seen. I truly hope this never makes it onto the six o’clock news.” His eyes swept the room taking in the steadily rising panic in each of their faces. “Have a good day.” Riggs closed the door behind him.
The rest of the group looked around at each other. “Holy shit,” was all the director could say, his head swaying from side to side.
Masters picked up the phone and spoke into it. “He’s leaving the building now. He’ll know he’s being followed. Make it a short leash, but give him some room. He’s an expert at this stuff, so he’ll take you for a waltz around the city and then try to lose you. Be alert! When he hooks up with Tyler, communicate with me immediately. Keep them under surveillance, but don’t approach them.” He looked over at the A.G., who nodded her assent. Masters hung up the phone and took a deep breath.
“Do you believe Riggs’s story that it’s only one man behind all this?” the director asked, looking nervously at Masters.
“It sounds incredible, but I hope to God it’s true,” said Masters. “I’d rather be dealing with one guy than some worldwide crime syndicate.” The A.G. and director both nodded in agreement.
Berman looked around with questioning eyes. “So what’s the plan here?”
The director cleared his throat heavily and said, “We can’t ever let this come out, you all know that. No matter what happens. No matter who gets hurt. Even if Riggs is successful and we are able to apprehend this person and any others involved in the scheme, then we still face a major problem.”
The A.G. folded her arms across her chest and picked up this line of thought. “Even if we can build a case against him on all the other activities this person will know he has ‘leverage,’ to use Riggs’s term. And he’ll use the same threat Riggs used. Deal with him or he goes public. I can just see his defense lawyer salivating over that one.” She involuntarily shuddered.
“So what you’re saying is this thing can never go to trial,” Berman said. “What then?”
The A.G. ignored the question and instead asked Masters, “You think Riggs is playing straight with us?”
Masters shrugged. “He was one of the best at undercover operations. To do that you have to lie on a regular basis and appear not to be. Truth takes a backseat. Sometimes reality becomes blurred. And old habits die hard.”
“Meaning we can’t completely trust him,” the A.G. said.
Masters looked thoughtful for a moment. “No more than he can trust us.”
“Well,” the director said, “there’s the strong possibility that we won’t bring this guy in alive.” He looked around the room. “Right?”
They all nodded. Masters ventured, “If he’s half as dangerous as Riggs says he is, I’d shoot first and ask no questions later. Then maybe our problem goes away.”
“And what about Riggs and Tyler?” the A.G. asked.
Berman answered, “Well, if we’re going to go that route, you never know who might get caught in the crossfire. I mean none of us wants that to happen, of course,” he quickly added, “but like Riggs’s wife, you know, innocent people sometimes die.”
“Tyler is hardly innocent!” the director said angrily.
“That’s right,” Masters said. “And if Riggs is tying his allegiances to her instead of us, well then he has to accept the consequences. Whatever they may be.”
All of them looked at each other uneasily. Under normal circumstances, none of them would have been remotely contemplating any of this. They had dedicated their lives to apprehending criminals and then seeing them receive a fair trial before a court of law for their offenses. They’re now silently praying that justice wouldn’t happen this time, that instead several human beings would die before a judge or jury ever heard their case, was not sitting well with any of them. However, in this present case, they were all confronted with something much larger than merely hunting down a criminal. Here the truth was far more dangerous.
“Whatever the consequences may be,” the director quietly repeated.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Walking down the street, Riggs looked at his watch. The clock housing was actually a sophisticated recording device; the tiny perforations in the leather strap were the speaker component. The day before, he had spent some time in a well-known “spy shop” four blocks from the FBI building. The technology had certainly gotten better over the years. At least his deal with the government was recorded somewhere other than in his memory. With operations like this, he shouldn’t put too much faith in anyone, no matter which side he was on.
Riggs knew that the government could never allow the truth to come out. In this case capturing the criminal alive was just as bad as not capturing him, maybe worse. And anyone who knew the truth was in serious jeopardy, and not just from Jackson. Riggs knew that the FBI would never intentionally gun down an innocent person. But he knew the FBI hardly regarded LuAnn as innocent. And since Riggs had thrown his support her way, he was automatically lumped with her as the enemy. If it got dicey toward the end, which Riggs knew it would, and if LuAnn were anywhere near Jackson, well, the FBI might not be real careful about who they were firing at. Riggs didn’t expect Jackson to go down quietly. He would take out as many agents as he could. Riggs had seen that in his eyes at the cottage. The man had no respect for human life. To him a person was merely a factor to be manipulated and eliminated if circumstances called for it. As an undercover agent, Riggs had dealt with people like that for years. People almost as dangerous as Jackson. Given those elements, the FBI would err on the side of killing the man rather than taking him alive; they wouldn’t risk the life of an agent in order to ensure that the man would stand trial. Riggs was well aware that the government had no incentive to bring Jackson to trial and every ince
ntive not to. So Riggs’s job was to flush out Jackson and then the Feds could do what they wanted. If that was pumping the man full of lead, Riggs would be glad to help them do so. But he was going to keep LuAnn as far away from the man as humanly possible. She was not going to be caught in the crossfire. He had been through that once. History was not going to repeat itself.
Riggs didn’t bother to look behind him. He knew he was already under surveillance. Despite Masters’s assurances to the contrary, he would have immediately ordered a tail. Riggs would’ve done the same thing in his position. Now he had to beat the tail before meeting up with LuAnn. He smiled. Just like old times.
While Riggs had been dealing with the FBI, LuAnn had driven to another pay phone and dialed a certain phone number. It rang several times and LuAnn thought she would probably get the standard automated message. Then a voice answered. She could barely recognize it, the connection was so bad.
“Charlie?”
“LuAnn?”
“Where are you?”
“On the road. I can barely hear you. Hold on, I’m passing some power lines.”
In a moment, the connection was much clearer.