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Rapp started up the stairs, keeping his feet near the wall so as to not step in the trail of smeared blood. Sydney Hayek was the newest member of Rapp’s team, and it had been Kennedy’s idea to have Hayek fill a vacant spot. Rapp had been less than enthused for several reasons. The first was pretty straightforward—his line of work didn’t lend itself toward trusting people. The room for error was thin and the stakes were so high that Rapp preferred running an op with an understaffed team over risking a new recruit who might get the entire team killed. The second reason for his apprehension was obvious—Hayek had come to them from the FBI.
Rapp hit the top landing and asked, “What’s up?”
Like the rest of the team, Hayek was wearing an olive drab field jacket, the pockets stuffed with the various tools of the trade. As directed by Rapp, she wore her flak jacket under her field jacket to draw less attention. She was also wearing a pair of jeans, a pair of Merrell hiking boots, and a blue Detroit Tigers baseball cap with a light and a small fiberoptic camera clipped to each side of the visor. She looked at Rapp with her almond eyes and asked, “Scott told you about the safe?”
“Yeah. Any sign of forced entry?”
“No. I’m afraid it looks like it was opened by Mr. Rickman.”
Rapp frowned. “Let’s not jump to any unfounded conclusions.”
Hayek shrugged. “I never met the man, but I assume he was the only person within a couple thousand miles who had the code.”
It was more like seven thousand miles, but Rapp didn’t bother to correct her. Hayek had grown up in Detroit, the only daughter of Armenians who had emigrated from Lebanon. She was fluent in Arabic and, most important, she could walk down the streets of nearly any Middle Eastern city without anyone giving her a second glance. In response to her accusation, Rapp said, “He was the only one with the code.”
“Well, the safe was opened using the code. There was no tampering with the locking mechanism and as best I can tell it wasn’t hacked.”
“You’re sure.”
“As sure as I can be after being here less than an hour.”
Rapp tried to picture how it had gone down. “So he was forced to open the safe at gunpoint.”
“I didn’t know the man, so I can’t say.”
After working with her for seven months Rapp was starting to get a sense of how Hayek operated. It was more what she didn’t say than what she said. “You have some concerns.”
“I always have concerns.”
“Share them.”
“Some things don’t make sense.”
“Such as?”
She hesitated and then said, “Come here and I’ll show you.” They started down the hall. “Careful where you step.”
Rapp looked down and stepped around a sizable pool of blood. That was when he noticed the splatter on the wall. “What’s this?”
Hayek looked over her shoulder. “One thing at a time. I want to show you the office first.” She entered the room and walked behind the desk. There were no windows, the walls and ceiling were covered with acoustic foam, and the floor was covered with a series of rubber squares. Behind the desk, a narrow door covered in foam was open. Behind it was the open safe.
“What am I looking for?” Rapp asked.
“Nothing.” Hayek turned off the lamp on the desk and then hit the UV light on her visor. She looked down at the floor in front of the safe and then expanded the area, sweeping the light back and forth. “No blood. Not a drop.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Come here.” She walked across the room and stepped into the hallway. She hit the light switch and extinguished the hallway lights. The UV light on her visor lit up splotches and splatters of blood. “Lots of blood out here, but none in there. Now, I don’t know Rickman, but I’ve heard he was a pretty serious man.”
“Your point?”
“I’ve been around you long enough to guess that someone would have to beat you to a bloody pulp before you’d even think of opening that safe.”
Rapp nodded.
“There’s no blood in the office.”
“The rough stuff could have started anywhere . . . down in the kitchen.”