George Sykes, a D.C. police officer and a security guard were dead. They’d found the real security guard in a storage room of the lobby with a single gunshot wound burned into his forehead.
The sniper had disappeared.
Stone had given descriptions of him to Ashburn and a BOLO had gone out, but none of them were holding out much hope. The consensus was that the killer was either laying low or already on private wings heading out of the country.
Stone and Chapman were now in a car sitting outside the modest residence of George Sykes, located in Silver Spring, Maryland. It was in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood with kids on bikes, moms talking in front yards and dads cutting the grass. Or it would have been if the street hadn’t been evacuated and then shut down by the FBI.
Agent Ashburn was in the front passenger seat while another agent was at the wheel.
“What do we know about him?” Stone asked.
“Wife died three years ago. Kids all grown and gone. Been with the National Park Service his entire career. No problems.”
“And six grandchildren,” said Stone. He glanced down at the man’s file. “He’s not much older than me. He must have started early.”
“Money problems?” Chapman asked.
Ashburn nodded. “That was one of the first things we looked at. Didn’t find anything there. But we dug a little deeper and shook out an account that was tied to Sykes. Recent deposit of a hundred thou.”
“So someone paid him off to play along.”
Stone said, “What exactly did they pay him for?”
Ashburn answered. “Bomb in the root ball. What if someone started to poke around there? He would steer them clear. Make sure wherever the bomb was in the dirt that no one got close to it.”
“So he betrayed his country for a hundred thousand dollars?” said Stone. “A grandfather of six?”
Ashburn shrugged. “I’ve seen people do it for a lot less. And six grandchildren eat a lot.”
Chapman added, “And that might’ve only been the first payment.”
“Right,” said Ashburn. “And they made sure the only payment. MO is consistent. They’re eliminating their team, closing up the tunnel. So no leads for us.”
“The sniper took a risk by impersonating a guard,” noted Stone. “We saw his face.”
“But like we concluded, the guy is long gone. And six months from now he’ll have a new face.”
“Lot of money behind this,” said Chapman. “That’s clear.”
Ashburn hiked her eyebrows. “Like a country’s treasury at work?”
“Russia,” said Chapman.
“I’ve heard that theory floated around more and more,” said Ashburn. “Cartel and government maybe working hand in hand. Tough competition.”
Stone nodded at Sykes’s house. “So what are we waiting for? We don’t need a warrant. The guy was shot. We can go to his house to investigate. He was a federal employee.”
Ashburn said, “That’s true, but considering that these folks employ bombs, I’ve sent for a bomb detection dog to go in before we do. That’s also why we’ve evacuated the neighborhood.”
The canine unit came and Stone watched as the dog methodically swept the yard and then entered the house through a back door opened by an FBI agent. Ten minutes later the search was complete and the all clear was given.
It didn’t take long to go through the house, but they found very little of help. As they walked back to their car Ashburn said, “We’ll send in a forensics team to give it a scrubdown, but I doubt it will yield much.”
“Still have to do it,” said Stone.
“Still have to,” agreed Ashburn.
“Has his family been notified?” asked Chapman.
“In the process. That’s another place that might get us somewhere.”
“He might have let something slip to a family member, you mean,” said Chapman.
“If we’re real lucky.”
“I’m not feeling that lucky,” said Stone.
Ashburn dropped them back at their car and they drove off. Chapman was at the wheel while Stone seemed lost in thought.
“What do you think?”
“I’m thinking how much more carnage before they yank Fuat Turkekul and make him talk.”
“So you think he’s really guilty?”
“I don’t have enough information to make that determination. But the status quo is not working for us.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“I haven’t thought of one yet.”
“So who might be the next target in the chain?”
“Hey,” she said angrily. “You can’t do that.”
“I just did,” said Stone. Chapman closed the door behind her and Stone moved farther into the house.
“This is illegal, isn’t it?” said Donohue.
Stone glanced at Chapman and then stared at Donohue. “I don’t think so, but then again, I’m not a lawyer.”
“I’d like you to leave. Right now.”