Stratagems Read online

  “So why is there a card in existence with someone’s name already on it?”

  “I think I know. The last part of the article addresses Executive Order 13083, which basically gives the federal government the authority mandate any requirement it wants on the states. There was an effort to defeat it several years back, but no dice.”

  “Do you have any clues how this relates at all to us?”

  Robert turned from Kyle and looked out the window into the darkness, then back again. “Not really. Obviously, Charlie thought there was a connection. I’m wondering where he got a printout of a smart card, especially one that hasn’t even been issued yet. I’m also wondering if there’s one of those out there with my name on it somewhere.”

  Kyle looked at his watch. Almost 1 a.m. He felt dizzy with information overload, and was certain Robert hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he found. It was a wonder he got through this much in the time he had.

  “Let’s assume there is a connection,” Kyle said. “Why would someone send bogus federal agents in looking for this stuff, if this is indeed what they were searching for? And if there is a national ID card in the works, then the real FBI would be the ones to protect it.”

  “I’ve thought it over a hundred times, and can’t piece the two together. Maybe there’s more in the files. I browsed through all of them, and kept the stuff that was glaring.”

  “I guess the only thing we can center on is what’s in our own backyard at the moment, which is some sort of virus. You said Charlie wrote a scanner app?”

  Robert nodded and yawned at the same time, then answered. “It scans all of our compiled programs and identifies those that have the extra code embedded. It gets through most of the list then blows up. I haven’t figured out why. He must not have had time to finish it, but was close.”

  “Maybe that’s it?” Kyle said.

  “What’s it?”

  “What if someone found out that he was working on a scanner, maybe even close to completing it? That could threaten whoever wrote the virus code. You said yourself the virus manipulates bank accounts. Did you find out where that one account number he deciphered originated?”

  Robert passed him a questioning glance. “Are you kidding? This late at night?”

  “You’re right. We can check it out tomorrow. Maybe there’s something there.”

  “I think, from reading his log entries, he got the smart card copy from Weir. He also called Weir right after he discovered the one account number, so maybe it’s all tied to Weir’s bank.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Robert clicked off the light, an indication there was no more earth-shattering information hiding in the envelope. They sat for a few moments, each lost in his own private thoughts, although Kyle’s less inebriated than Robert’s.

  “Do you need me to drive you home?” he asked.

  Another dubious glare. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve had more beers than this before and drove better than a priest on Sunday.”

  Kyle smiled. “Okay. By the way, this is good work.”

  “How come I get the feeling I’ll be looking for employment in the near future?” Robert asked rhetorically.

  “Remind me to give you a raise in the morning,” Kyle said with a grin.

  “Don’t worry, I will.”

  Kyle opened the door and stepped out into the night, turning back. “You going to be okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll sleep on it. Maybe I’ll dream up a solution.”

  “Just get some sleep.”

  Kyle started to close the door when Robert called him back. “Just one thing – be careful about people following you. I don’t want to have to break in a new boss all over again, know what I mean?”

  “I’ll watch my back, Robert.”

  Robert reached for the envelope on the seat and handed it to Kyle. “Hey, don’t you want this?”

  “No. You keep it.”

  Kyle closed the door, climbed on his bike, slipped on his helmet and fired up the engine. Robert’s headlight beams shot across the parking lot as he sped away in his truck. Kyle sat on his motorcycle while the engine idled, enjoying the night air after being stuffed in the cab for so long with the lingering odor of beer. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, more from Robert’s briefing than being totally exhausted and deprived of fresh air for over 30 minutes. He wished he were in front of a large white board, while the conversation was still fresh in his mind, where he could sketch out all the people, events and facts. Given time and some good markers, he could arrange the information where some conclusions could eventually be made. As it was, everything was jumbled, out of order.

  He clicked the gear into first and started off slow. He decided to skip the interstate altogether and turned left onto San Mateo Boulevard, headed north. He didn’t want to chance someone waiting beside the road on the route he used to meet Robert. The traffic was light as he passed all the businesses that were shuttered for the night – restaurants, a bank, a couple of small strip malls and a western boot store. He made it to the next light and took a right on Academy, headed east toward the mountain. Since no one was tailing him, he took it slow and easy all the way up toward the base of the Sandias. He arrived at the alley within ten minutes and cut the engine four houses down from his own backyard. The lights went dead and he clicked the gear in neutral as he coasted the rest of the distance in silence.

  He hopped off the motorcycle and slowly eased it through the narrow gate, fumbling his way in the dark. He dreaded pushing it up the hill, over the threshold of the sliding glass door into his bedroom, through the kitchen and finally into the garage. He turned and fastened the gate, then stood beside the bike, holding tight to the handle bars and starting his trek up the hill. He expected Sammy to run through the doggie door and jump at his heels.

  A beam of light hit him across the chest.

  Kyle looked up, the light emanating near the sliding glass door. He saw three figures standing outside, two holding bright flashlights that beamed across the backyard, temporarily blinding Kyle. He freed one hand from the handle bars to shield his eyes. Even so, he still couldn’t make out faces. He imagined it was the same goons who killed Charlie, now waiting for him in the shadows because he was getting close…but close to what? He thought of simply jumping on the motorcycle, revving it up and fish tailing around toward the gate, going full throttle. He could probably crash through without much damage to him or the bike, but it would be a bold move in the dark; and if he hit the 4x4 instead of the flimsy fencing, it would do the job of killing him so the guys holding the flashlights wouldn’t have to get their hands dirty.

  Instead he took a deep breath and continued up the hill, the two lights never faltering, none of the three men budging from their cozy spots. No wonder Sammy was nowhere in sight, Kyle thought. He was probably scrunched under the bed or hiding in the closet, peering out from a bundle of clothes until the coast was clear.

  Kyle was now less than a dozen feet away, lights trained on his eyes, blinding him. “One question,” he said toward the light. “Are you the fake FBI or the real thing?”

  “Agent Rudy Kain,” a voice said. “Do you usually take your motorcycle out for a walk in the middle of the night?”

  “Listen, Agent Lame...”

  “Kain, smart ass.”

  “Don't you mean Mr. Smart Ass?”

  One of the lights switched off, the other lowered with the beam splashed on the ground.

  “Why are you sneaking out at this hour?” Rudy asked, stepping aside so Kyle could push his bike through.

  “Technically, I’m sneaking in?”

  Rudy glanced at one of the other agents who was leaning against the house, then back to Kyle. “You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”

  “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I had to get away and think. Riding helps, especially when I have the road all to myself.”

  “Why not use the
garage?”

  “I didn’t want to be followed, by anyone. Was that you following me when I left?”

  Rudy hesitated, apparently deciding if Kyle deserved an answer. “Yes,” he said finally. “It was one of our agents assigned to watch your house.”

  “And how many are watching my house?”

  “Three, in all.”

  “Why?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Can we discuss this in the house?” Kyle asked, weary of supporting the motorcycle.

  “No,” said the agent leaning against the wall. “The house is bugged, and not by us. We checked.”

  “I had a feeling,” Kyle admitted, relieved he had taken Robert's call in the bathroom after all. "Where are they now?"

  "We took one of them," the agent continued, "but left three."

  "Why?" Kyle asked, still supporting his bike.

  "Norm's orders," Rudy interrupted. "Take one to try to trace it, leave the remaining to look for an opportunity to use them to our advantage."

  Kyle slowly shook his head. "Whatever. Now can I get to sleep?"

  “I have a better idea,” Rudy offered. “Let’s go downtown and have a long conversation.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kyle snapped. “Besides, we have nothing to talk about.”

  “Who’d you go see just now?” Rudy asked.

  “I told you. I was out riding, by myself.”

  “I think you’re lying.”

  “Too bad.”

  “How ‘bout I arrest your ass right now?” Rudy snarled, inching his face closer to Kyle’s.

  “You got a warrant, sport?”

  “We’re the FBI. We don’t need a warrant, just probable cause.”

  “Yeah, and what would that be? Violating curfew?”

  “Eric,” Rudy called. One of the men appeared from the darkness. “Take Mr. Randall here, in handcuffs, to the car.”

  Kyle glared at Rudy. “You do that and I’ll have the Press all over you in the morning. I’ll tell them everything. And when I’m on the witness stand, I’ll tell the judge you said you didn’t need a warrant because you were the FBI. What do you think Norm will tell the media when they’re parked outside his office?”

  The two scowled at one another in an awkward standoff. Kyle knew Rudy would have to prevail, in some fashion, to save face in front of his crew.

  “I’ll make a deal,” Kyle said. “I’ll stop by your office on my way to work. Not that it’ll do any good since there’s nothing to talk about, but I’ll agree to that much.”

  “I can get a warrant in less than an hour,” Rudy countered.

  “I believe you have to wake a judge for that. Are you sure you want to piss off a judge this early in the morning? And don’t bet that I won’t tell him face to face that I was willing to meet you downtown. He’ll love you after that. He’ll probably call Norm and chew on his butt, if there’s anything left after the news media are done.”

  Rudy relented, but not much. “I’ll be here at eight to pick you up.”

  “Fine,” Kyle agreed. “But don’t come alone. I don’t trust you.”

  “Likewise,” Rudy said, pulling the sliding glass door open.

  Kyle pushed his motorcycle through, noticing the lights in the house were already on. He turned and faced Rudy, showing his disapproval, then resumed his trek to the garage. He entered the living room as the agents were quietly filing out the front door, Kyle following behind. There were three cars parked in front of his house, two in the driveway and one on the street. He hurried over to Rudy who was nearing one of the cars.

  “Why don’t you just advertise next time?” he said.

  Rudy turned and Kyle thought he was going to attack, but he didn’t. “Eight sharp,” he said, and climbed in the car.

  Kyle went back into his house and gently closed the door, locking and bolting it. He turned out the lights and headed for the bedroom.

  “Sammy?” he whispered. “Here boy? Sammy?”

  He heard a faint whine from under the bed. Kyle got low to the floor, searching underneath. A small nose was sticking out, sniffing the air, another muffled whine coming from the darkness.

  “Come on boy, it’s okay.”

  Sammy inched his paws, one after the other, pulling himself along the carpet until he was out, licking Kyle on the cheek, his tail wagging furiously.

  Kyle rubbed his neck with both hands. “Some watchdog.”

  Kyle petted him for a good minute before standing. Sammy happily trotted over to his corner and fell on the small bed Kyle bought him last Christmas. Kyle went to the dresser and turned on the lamp, grabbed a pad of paper and pencil near the phone, and scribbled a reminder for later. It was only once sentence.

  Install security system ASAP.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kyle rose early to find Rudy Kain and a few others waiting at his front door to escort him downtown. He took his time getting dressed before he finally emerged. Rudy personally escorted him to the lead sedan.

  “What, no handcuffs?” Kyle said smartly.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  Kyle climbed in without another word. Rudy closed the door and sat in the front passenger seat. The driver pulled out and headed west, a second FBI car following close behind. Kyle couldn’t help but remember 16 years back, the last time he had ridden in an FBI car. The circumstances then had been vastly different. It had been in the dead of night, four cars taking him and his family to a facility in Virginia, under the cloak of darkness. The cars had been different as well, the windows tinted so dark he couldn’t see outside as they moved down the highway. There had been two FBI agents riding with them and neither offered any clue as to where they were headed or what would eventually happen, only telling Kyle to trust them and not ask too many questions. His mom cried the entire way, his father having died two days earlier. No family members were allowed to arrange, much less attend, the funeral. The FBI said they would take care of it and didn’t want to place any more family members, especially children, in jeopardy. Kyle’s mom didn’t have much choice but to agree and do as she was told, just like the first time when his dad turned evidence against his former employers, who, as Kyle later learned, were some heavily connected individuals within certain crime circles.

  Rudy turned, looking back. “Mind telling me where you went last night?”

  “I already told you.”

  “Riding around, right?”

  “Right,” Kyle agreed with a smile.

  “Why did you make such an effort to lose the tail?”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Maybe I didn’t know I was being tailed at the time.”

  “So, why’d you take off like a bat out of hell?”

  “It’s a sports bike. That’s what they do.”

  “Let me give you a piece of advice, Kyle. When you’re answering Norm’s questions, try not to be such a belligerent ass, because he’ll throw it in the can before you have a chance to blink.”

  Kyle leaned forward, his voice soft but determined. “Now let me give you a piece of advice, Agent Rudy Kain. Don’t threaten me. I can be resourceful when my back’s against the wall.”

  Rudy didn’t seem impressed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It can mean anything you want. I can call a Press conference and spill my guts.”

  “I could care less what the Press prints.”

  “Maybe so,” Kyle agreed, leaning back again with an air of confidence. “But what about your superiors in Washington? Do you think they care less?”

  “It will be difficult to call a Press conference sitting in a detention cell.”

  “I don’t have to be the one to call, and if I don’t get to work by eleven that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” It was a lie, but Rudy didn’t know that. Kyle wasn’t prone to lying, even in the corporate environment where it had become so prevalent, but in Rudy’s case he made an exception, feeling it was not only well earned, but well deserved.

  Rudy turned back around, facing f
orward. Kyle had struck a chord, at least he thought he had. He didn’t want to push Rudy’s limits either, not because he feared him, but more because Rudy hadn’t gained his trust. In contrast, Norm seemed level headed and somewhat more tolerant. At least he was someone Kyle could work with if it came down to it.

  The driver left the interstate and headed toward the middle of town. Albuquerque was dubbed the biggest small town in America, and anyone who had ever been to Dallas, Los Angeles, Denver or the like would see why. There were fewer than 20 buildings that rose above five stories, and a couple dozen streets that crisscrossed throughout the downtown area. The driver went over the railroad tracks, turning into an underground parking area.

  “I thought your office was on Silver?” Kyle said.

  Rudy smiled. “We’re not going to our office."

  A queasy sensation filled Kyle’s stomach as he imagined these two actually being the fake FBI agents, now casually abducting him. That was, of course, nonsense. Rudy had been there with Norm and his league of feds, not Jason and the imposters. On the other hand, Rudy had been insistent about him riding in the car and not taking the motorcycle. The thought nagged at him as they pulled into an empty space in the lower level of the garage on the far northwest end. Rudy opened Kyle’s door and he carefully stepped out.

  “This way,” Rudy said, starting off toward a door against the far wall.

  Kyle followed, the other agent bringing up the rear. They avoided the other public access areas, which included both an elevator and stairs located near the middle, but instead through a door Kyle never noticed before. It was the same color as the wall and if not for a knob sticking out someone could easily pass by without ever noticing it was there. Rudy reached in his pocket and produced a key, stuck it in the lock and turned the knob. The door opened into an expansive, well-lit hallway that seemed to extend forever. Rudy took the lead. There were no doors or offices, just a hall that led to another door off in the distance. Kyle looked back. The driver was trailing close behind.