Page 94 of The Grave Artist

“Eric? Ordered to Washington. Hauled before a meeting with Justice and a congressional subcommittee hearing, so I’m at the helm for the time being.”

It was all clear now. Reynolds had likely been working his dark magic and convinced the subcommittee thathewas responsible for the recent win that Sanchez and Jake had managed to pull off. He was leveraging that for another shot at the director position when it opened again and, at the same time, stealing I-squared out from under Williamson. If he didn’t dissolve it outright, he would make sure it was absorbed into another Justice operation like the FBI or NSA—where the whole point of the pilot program, rapid response to micro threats, would be ignored.

And the palace coup grew even sneakier. Jake was thinking of yesterday’s video, Reynolds on a plane. But not going to Washington, DC, as he’d implied.

He’d been headed to LA.

“Shit.”

He’d meant to whisper. He caught Sanchez’s eye, and she gave a brief nod.

Reynolds frowned. “Say something, Mr. Heron? Something I missed?”

“No, Stan.”

Intentionally not using his title, or even the last name.

Reynolds then began once again to push his theory that Brock had been murdered, for some reason, as part of a Russian spy op, involving the oligarch Sergei Ivanov.

Sanchez sighed. “Remember, we did look into it. And HK made another attempt, last night. A couple on their honeymoon in Bel Air. That would’ve made that killing, and the deaths in Italy, collateral damage to sell the deception.”

Reynolds wasn’t put off in the least. “Exactly. Clever, aren’t they? Ivanov and his hit man.”

Jake weighed in. “What we told you on the plane—when you were headed out here.” He couldn’t let that one go. “Is still true. Nothing suggests that’s why Brock was killed. He didn’t have access to sensitive information, and he wasn’t assisting with any federal investigations. There’s no motive for—”

“This is where you have the disadvantage of being, as they say, out of the loop. I’m privy to information you don’t have. For example, Mr. Brock was being considered for a spot in a section tasked with analyzing foreign financial influence. The team would report directly to the top.” He leaned forward. “The Comptroller General of the United States. I can’t say more than that.”

“Only being considered?” Jake asked.

Sanchez now voiced another logical parry: “But ifwedidn’t know about the promotion, and we work for the federal government, how would an outside asset know?” She shook her head, a bit more enthusiastically than necessary. “And, Stan, I still don’t see what killing Brock gets Ivanov. Wouldn’t the Russians want toturnhim?”

Reynolds blinked, as the idea zipped by. He said, “Ah, well, that’s the mystery we need to unravel, like an onion.”

Jake didn’t dare look at Sanchez for fear she would mouth, Can you unravel an onion?

“And you’re just the two to do that.” Then he grew serious. “Look, doesn’t this whole idea of a serial killer who gets off on murdering newlyweds seem a little far-fetched? What could his motive be? It’s not sexual. It’s not money. Then what?”

“We agree there are questions,” Sanchez said.

“Which are all answered, nice and tidy, as soon as we agree that he’s being paid by Ivanov to kill Brock and lead the investigators astray.

“Now, here’s our strategy. Ivanov’s assets. He’s a tech billionaire but that’s just a cover. And his money is going to lead us to his employer. GRU, the SVK, the ABC—some outfit we don’t even know about yet. We’re going to squeeze him. And find out. I want enough evidence to freeze Ivanov’s bank accounts and some of his goodies. He’s partial to his G7 jet and his Bentley. You look blank, Mr. Heron. You’ve presumably never seized anything ... legally. Ha, that’s a joke. I’ll explain.

“There are three types of forfeiture,” Reynolds began in a gratingly superior tone. “Criminal, administrative and civil. The first two don’t apply to this situation, not yet. But we can pursue him through the civil avenue. We don’t need to prove criminal liability, just some criminal activity. I want to pressure him—I want him to sing like a little birdie. He gives up his handlers here and in Moscow and we bring down the whole network.”

“But forfeiture’s a complicated process,” Sanchez said. “It takes a long time. And we need to establish criminal behavior and trace specific assets to it. And with a Russian national? It’ll mean an international investigation, with dozens of agents. Usually 981 actions take months or years.” She waved a hand toward him. “We’re only two people, and neither of us has a background in accounting or international finance.”

Reynolds said coolly, “Thank you for that fine law school class description, Agent Sanchez. But I’m confused. Didn’t Eric tell me that I-squared’s whole thrust was speed? Targeted raids? Precision strikes? If you want to move fast, you’ll find a way.”

Jake said, “Not my area of expertise, Stan, but just thinking out loud—once we make any move at all on his assets, he’ll have to be put on notice, won’t he?”

“You can be forgiven for not appreciating how due process works, Mr. Heron. Most hackers don’t. But, yes, he’ll be on notice—and that’s when he’ll make a mistake.”

Silence. Jake and Sanchez now regarded each other once again. It was Sanchez who asked, “And what mistake would that be, Stan?”

“I don’t know. But you’ll be there to find it. Bigger operations have failed, and I won’t stand by while he continues to thwart me—and embarrass me at every turn.”

And then Jake got it. With that last sentence, Reynolds had given himself away. Jake would bet a year’s salary the deputy secretary had been part of that task force earlier in his career and had never gotten over the fact that Ivanov had outmaneuvered him.