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1080 Words
“Can we talk somewhere else? This place is starting to give me the creeps.”
The three of them walked a couple of blocks to a bagel shop. Herbert and Anthony each had a large cup of coffee. Garchik twisted plastic stirrers into knots and ignored the bottle of orange juice he’d purchased.
After swallowing a mouthful of coffee Herbert said, “Do you feel comfortable talking here?”
“What? Yeah, I guess.”
Anthony said, “You can trust us, Agent Garchik.”
He gave a dull laugh. “That’s good to know. I’d thought I’d run plum out of people I can trust.”
“What happened to make you feel that way?” asked Herbert.
“Little things. Reports not coming back. Pieces of evidence not where they should be. Clicks on my phone when I pick it up. Funny s**t on my computer at work.”
“Is that all?” asked Herbert.
Garchik snapped, “Isn’t that enough?”
“It would be for me. I’m just wondering if there’s more.”
Garchik drank some of his juice. He put the bottle down and took a breath. “The bomb.”
“What was it?”
“Some components we don’t usually see in an explosive device.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean some unique combinations that were a surprise.”
“You mean undetectable?” asked Anthony quickly.
“No. That would be impossible. Bombs have to have certain elements. Blasting caps for starters. This bomb had all that, at least we found pieces that showed that.”
“So what, then?”
“We also found some other stuff.”
“What stuff?” said Anthony, her irritation growing.
“Stuff that nobody has figured out what the hell it is yet, which is why I’m just referring to it as stuff.”
Herbert said, “You mean you found debris from the explosive that you are unable to identify?”
“That’s more or less what I’m saying, yeah.”
“What is ATF’s official position on it?” he asked.
“Official position?” Garchik chuckled. “Their official position is that they are officially baffled and scared shitless. We’re actually getting NASA involved to see if they can figure it out.”
“NASA! So what are the implications for this?” asked Anthony.
“I don’t know. None of us knows. That’s why we’re keeping this on a tight need to know. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you. Correction: I know I shouldn’t be telling you.”
Herbert thought about this as he fingered his coffee cup. “Did Agent Birdman know?”
Garchik eyed him warily. “Yeah, he did. I told him myself. He was the lead investigator, after all, thought he had a right to know.”
“And what was his reaction?”
“He told me to keep him apprised. I think he had other things on his mind.”
“Did you tell anyone that you’d told him?”
Garchik saw where this was going. “You think he was killed because of what I told him?”
“It’s possible.”
“But who would’ve known?”
“Hard to
say since we don’t know if he told anyone or not. So did you tell anyone you’d informed him of that?”
“Maybe a couple people at ATF. I have people I have to report to,” he added defiantly.
“I’m sure you do. Have you been out to the trailer owned by John Kravitz?”
“Yeah. We checked the bomb material found there.”
“And did it match the debris in the park?”
“Yes. Although it was a strange place to keep the stuff.”
“Under the trailer, you mean?” said Herbert.
“Yeah.”
“Moisture,” said Anthony. “Not good for that sort of stuff.”
“Right,” agreed Garchik. “And not to mention it was difficult to get to.” He shifted uneasily in his seat. “Look, I’m no chickenshit. I’ve infiltrated militias and gangs and come out alive. But what I’m not used to doing is watching my own side. That freaks me out.”
“It would me too,” said Herbert.
“What do you think is going on?”
“There’s a traitor out there somewhere,” answered Herbert. “And people are aware of it. So they’re trying to ferret the spy out.”
“So they’re basically watching all of us.”
“Right. The only problem is if one of the watchers is actually the traitor.”
“God help us if that’s the case,” said Garchik. “So what should I do?”
“Keep your head down, limit your conversations on your phone and with your colleagues, and if any other agency strolls into your space, play stupid.”
“There are a lot of us at ATF. I’m not the only one who knows about this new stuff.”
Herbert rose. “Given the circumstances, I wouldn’t necessarily count that to be a good thing.”
They left a troubled-looking Garchik in the bagel shop and headed back out.
Anthony said, “So what about your fabled Camel Club? Have they started their work yet?”
Herbert checked his watch. “Right about now, in fact.”
Harry Finn walked along like he had not a care in the world. Wraparound shades, jeans and a sweatshirt, sneakers, bedhead, he looked like a college student. Which was what he wanted considering he was on the Georgetown University campus. It had Herbert buildings that looked craned in from Cambridge or Oxford, nice green spaces, students hurrying here and there or else lounging in between classes. Finn walked confidently among them all. He sipped on a cup of Starbucks, shifted the weight of his backpack over his left shoulder.
He picked up the trail of Fuat Turkekul within five minutes. He did so by good prep work. This involved a little computer hacking onto the college’s database, a couple of discreetly placed questions and a thorough recon of the campus.
The Turkish-born scholar walked along, books cradled under one arm, in deep discussion with another faculty member while a trail of students brought up the rear. They went into a building near the western end of the campus. Finn did too.
- Writer
