363A/N: For anyone interested, I added a list of frequently mangled, misused, and abused words to my profile. I added it not because I'm perfect (I'm not) but because words are the tools of our avocation. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Chapter 29: Questions
DC, Sunday
Jane sat bolt upright, heart pounding, head spinning. Blinking away grit and haze, he exhaled slowly and slumped. Hotel. It's over. He limped to the bathroom, wincing as cloth stiff with dried blood tugged at scrapes and cuts. Jane used the toilet, steadying himself with a hand on the counter. He stripped and gratefully stepped into the shower feeling achy and vaguely unwell. Someone – Rigsby? – said an explosion's shockwave alone could kill. Something about air pressure. The concrete walls took the worst of it. And Ojara.
Soap and warm water worked wonders. Afterward, he ordered a handful of self-stick bandages along with eggs, toast and tea from the hotel. While awaiting room service he got the number to the hospital from the concierge.
"Patient Ojara, room 443, please. ... When was he discharged? ... Thank you." He belatedly realized it was after 9. His forehead smoothed, glad for the news. They must be on their way home. He next dialed Lisbon but disconnected, realizing it was only 6 a.m. in California.
Breakfast over, Jane tossed everything including dead cell phone into his carry-on and checked out. During the taxi ride he pulled out his burner phone only to decide against calling. I will be in on the interrogation so why ask?
FBI
The team was busy writing up their case reports in an FBI conference room. Cho looked up when Jane entered. "You look like hell."
"Good morning to you too."
"You don't have to be here."
"I'll stay."
Cho shrugged and handed him several files. "Research on Wentworth, her Middle East contact, and," Cho scowled, "her lover, FBI Agent Jon Stewart. We arrested him yesterday in the state park. You up for interrogations?"
"Right as rain," Jane answered absently, already glancing through the first file.
"Take your time. We're letting Stewart sweat awhile. Agents are bringing Wentworth in."
Jane nodded and ambled over to get tea, still skimming the information.
Wylie, Muhammad, Hassan and Vega finished their reports and were free to fly back. They stayed.
The mid-30s woman sat seething in the interrogation room, handcuffed to the chair. She was used to being treated with deference, courtesy of her grandfather's influence. Arrested by the FBI early in the morning, her disheveled hair, tee and worn jeans contrasted sharply with her normally chic appearance. Having read her Miranda rights, Cho sat silently, arms resting on the table, folders closed in front of him. Jane entered a moment later with a cup of tea. He remained standing in a corner opposite her. She straightened and slid back in her chair. Her gaze returned to Cho when he leaned forward and spoke.
"You facilitated the terrorist bombing of the Sacramento International Airport planned by CIA Agent Peter Brock."
"I have nothing to say until my attorney arrives."
"You funded the terrorist's travel costs plus a hundred-thousand dollar reward. That makes you an accomplice to mass murder." She blinked in surprise, lips pressed tightly together.
"You're also an accessory in two murder attempts against an FBI employee."
Jane watched carefully for tells that could provide the details needed to leverage a confession from Stewart. Cho continued, "The letter Jane left in the senator's office wouldn't mean anything unless you were involved. That scared you into getting your lover, FBI Agent Jon Stewart, to eliminate the person–"
"–Me," Jane interjected brightly.
"–who knew you were connected to the bombing. Two counts of attempted murder – last week Friday and yesterday." She swallowed and looked away but said nothing.
They continued. Sound-proofing insulated the interrogation room from outside noise.
A man in his 70s strode swiftly down the hall, slowed by neither age nor the limp from an old injury. He pivoted angrily when he saw that Abbott's office was empty. He commanded the nearest agent, "Get me Dennis Abbott. Now."
The agent nodded and hastened to notify Abbott.
Abbott stepped out of the observation room. Evenly, "Senator Wentworth." Neither offered to shake.
"What crap is the FBI pulling in arresting my granddaughter?"
Quietly, "See for yourself, Senator." He opened the observation room door and ushered the senator in. "Everyone, leave." Cho's agents immediately filed out. They would watch by remote video feed elsewhere.
"This is an outrage, Abbott. I–"
"Your granddaughter is waiting for her attorney. Why not listen and find out what we have?"
Wentworth glared, but turned to the one-way mirror.
"...pointless until I am advised by my attorney." She wondered if the arrest was done on Sunday because her attorney might not be available.
Jane straightened and took a step forward. "We have enough evidence to convict. Financial records and the confession of your Saudi contact prove you funded the travel and reward for the Iranian terrorist. Not to mention pressuring your lover to commit murder. It's a tawdry little affair with a married man, but he's flattering, useful, isn't he?
Jane took a seat next to Cho, relaxed except for his intense gaze. "What we don't know is why. Why would the granddaughter of a war hero, an influential senator, fund a terrorist attack against her nation?" He waved casually, "Oh, we know you've been selling influence and getting kickbacks from defense contractors and Middle East nationals for years. Keeping the money flowing is certainly financial motive. But that doesn't seem like enough." He leaned forward. "So why did smart woman Courtney Wentworth betray her grandfather and country by facilitating a terrorist attack?"
"You–" She broke off, jaw clenched.
After a moment, "Let's see if I can guess. The money is nice, but power is nicer. You're tired of listening to your grandfather, of pushing his positions as a mere assistant, a lackey. You disagree and think he's out of touch. Your friends are educated, sophisticated smart people with credentials. And now! Your crowd disdains the buffoon who somehow got elected President. You were horrified your grandfather supported the administration's goal of getting out of the Middle East. A blow to the cozy, lucrative, insider world of elected officials, aides, bureaucrats, consultants, contractors and pundits." Jane took a sip of tea. "Tell me, did you approach Peter Brock or did he approach you?" His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Ah! Brock got to you through your lover. Brock proposed faking a terrorist attack in Sacramento. You confirmed that would make it politically impossible for the senator to support withdrawal. Brock promised no one would actually get hurt." Jane leaned forward. "Instead you helped kill a hundred Americans."
"I didn't, I didn't mean– You can't prove anything!"
Jane leaned back, satisfied he'd gotten enough to pressure Stewart. Cho resumed.
"We have you. We have Stewart. Incontrovertible evidence. Only one will get a deal, avoid capital punishment. Who will it be?" Cho sat motionless. Tears ran down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands. Jane and Cho rose and left. Jane split off at the men's room while Cho continued to the conference room.
Visage stony, Senator Wentworth sat, silent in the adjacent observation room. He stirred and asked, "These financial records are real? Accurate?"
"Yes. She appears on CCTV video when she opened the accounts. Her signature is verified for accounts that total twenty-three million dollars." Abbott added softly, "I'm sorry, Senator."
Wentworth shoved the copies of financial records away and stood. "I need to talk to her."
After a second, "Okay. Briefly."
"Abbott." Wentworth nodded and left. A moment later the interrogation door opened.
The woman raised her head. "Granddad, I'm – I – uh, did you get hold of Hardison?" she asked about her attorney.
"I can barely stand to look at you. You betrayed your country and killed Americans for what? Money? The approval of your jackass friends?"
She stiffened, "Everyone knows it's important the US stays in the Middle East! You're too stuck in the past."
His lips tightened in anger. "Everyone?! Did 'everyone' ever serve, risk his life for those convictions?" He leaned over the table. "Who elected you, placed their trust in your judgment? Your greed and ambition are disgusting." He turned to leave then paused. Without looking at her, "Hardison's assistant is getting hold of him. You're fired and you're on your own." He left, limp more pronounced than before.
Jane stepped out into the corridor, nearly bumping into a white-haired man with a limp. The man sidestepped and continued.
Jane called after him softly, "Senator Wentworth."
The man paused and turned.
"Your granddaughter really didn't think anyone would be hurt. Don't know if that helps."
"It doesn't." He nodded sharply once and continued walking.
Jane sighed. He entered the conference room just as Cho was sitting down after getting coffee.
Vega spoke first. "Agent Abbott ordered us out when Senator Wentworth showed up. We watched from here. How do you think it went?"
"Well enough." He didn't continue.
Jane grinned. "Really, Cho? Give them a break."
Cho unbent. "No confession but," he glanced at Jane, "Jane confirmed the basic narrative. She knew about the attack. She's guilty of selling influence and taking kickbacks. She conspired with Stewart to try to murder Jane to keep it covered up. Between the financial records and a possible confession by her Saudi contact, we have enough to pressure Stewart. One will cave."
Hassan glowered. "Ninety-three deaths! They should both get the death penalty."
Muhammad nudged his arm. Softly, "Omar." He turned and whispered something to her. She nodded and patted his arm. "They'll be punished. It's different here."
Wylie asked, "What about Stewart?"
"He's being brought up. "
LA, Sunday
Morning came all too soon. Lisbon lifted the hotel phone receiver and let it drop to terminate the automated wake up call. Still in LA. At least the governor's starting to appreciate the anger out there. And danger. She frowned, realizing she hadn't heard from Jane on Saturday, but set it aside. Cho would've called if there was a problem. She stretched and rose.
Lisbon clicked on the local news while going about her morning routine. "'-sterday's demonstrations at the LA political rally turned violent." She missed some of it while she showered, but it was still the lead story when she came out to dress. "...nightfall, masked Antifa members armed with chains and sticks appeared and clashed with the 'law and order' group. An hour later hundreds of Hispanic citizens showed up from the LA barrios. They demanded that all criminals be locked up after Wednesday's brutal murders of three teens by the MS-13 gang. A fourth group arrived shortly after and shouted down those demands. Interviews suggest they were mainly undocumented migrants afraid of what intensified law enforcement might mean for them."
She muted the audio but paused to watch the video from last night. Skirmishes broke out. Police in riot gear advanced, trying to separate the battling factions. Cars were bashed, overturned and even set fire. Stores were vandalized. The crawl at the bottom of the screen provided details. "LAPD USED TEAR GAS AT MIDNIGHT TO DISPERSE RIOTERS ... TWO DIED – ONE HEART ATTACK, ONE TRAMPLED ... 23 INJURED WERE HOSPITALIZED ... STORES BOARDED UP BEFORE THE RALLY LIMITED DAMAGE ... LA MAYOR HERNANDEZ IMPOSED AN 8 P.M. CURFEW THROUGH TUESDAY..."
Lisbon un-muted the audio when the video showed Hightower on the outdoor monitors. Lisbon had been too busy getting candidates out to listen when it was happening. Hightower was the last and had to be urged to safety. Outside speakers had blasted out her address, sometimes audible over the mob. The news anchor continued, "... hoping to replace retiring AG Gordon tried to quell the violence. If elected, Hightower promised to make California safer for all, while protecting rights and respecting state sanctuary laws. ... In other news..." Lisbon turned it off. How the hell will Hightower square that with her party's platform and sanctuary laws? It's gonna be an interesting.
The meeting with the candidates, their staffs, and security teams lasted through 3 p.m., often straying from campaign security into politics. She then met privately with Hightower, who was still her boss as Director, to discuss CIB efforts at the rallies. Finally she met with the CIB teams assigned to cover the rallies.
Between meetings Lisbon called but failed to talk to Jane. His cell was dead and then Wylie said he and Cho were in an interrogation. She missed his return call when she was meeting with her CIB teams. She was content to read his text: He'd be on the red-eye arriving in Sacramento early Monday morning.
Lisbon decided to fly back on Monday since she still wouldn't be sharing her bed with her husband Sunday night. Monday she would make time for the blood test on her way to the CIB. Monday was the tenth day post-embryo transfer, the day to learn if she was pregnant. She did her best to put it out of her mind.
FBI, DC, Sunday Afternoon
Cho took a seat opposite Jon Stewart and rattled off Stewart's Miranda rights. "Do you understand?"
"Yes." Stewart flinched in recognition and guilt when Jane entered.
"Yesterday you tried to assassinate FBI consultant Patrick Jane. Five FBI agents made the arrest after you discharged your weapon at Jane – incontrovertible evidence. That was your second attempt, the first being the attack at a comedy club a week ago Friday. Why?"
"Attorney."
"And you conspired to bomb the Sacramento International Airport which resulted in mass murder." Stewart swallowed but said nothing.
Cho recited from memory, "'I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.' -How are attempted murder and a terrorist attack adhering to your oath, Agent Stewart?" The silence became oppressive.
Jane made a show of reading from the file. "Graduated with honors from elementary school." With a small smile, "An actual Eagle Scout. High school salutatorian, class president, captain of the football team. Criminal justice major in college with honors. Good record at Quantico, several commendations as an agent." He looked up. "How does that lead to killing a hundred Americans plus attempted murder?"
Stewart's face creased in pain.
"You're protecting your lover, Courtney Wentworth." Jane smiled engagingly. "Cheated on your wife, maybe she got a little boring, too domestic? Do your kids know? Your two boys are almost teenagers and your daughter's growing up too. ... Do you know Wentworth has 23 million from kickbacks and influence peddling in overseas accounts?" Jane slid copies of the account balance and documents showing Wentworth's signature when she opened the accounts. Stewart paled.
"The woman you cheated on your wife for, the one you're falling on your sword for ... isn't worth it." Jane leaned forward, suddenly intense. "Courtney Wentworth paid the terrorist's travel costs and reward, probably because CIA Agent Peter Brock didn't want the money traceable to him. She's not an innocent."
Stewart was sweating, shrinking from the table and its damning evidence.
Cho picked it up. "You will be convicted of attempted murder. Will it also be mass murder? One of you will be."
"I – I didn't know about the attack. Until after."
Quietly, "Tell us. Start with Brock's role." Cho slid over a bottle of water.
After gulping half the bottle, Stewart looked at them in resignation. "I didn't know anything about the bombing, don't wanna be charged with that."
Evenly, "If the evidence supports your story, you won't–"
Stewart's attorney barged in. "Paul Whetstone, attorney for Jon Stewart. –Jon, stop talking. Agent Stewart has nothing more to say."
Ignoring his attorney, Stewart pleaded, "And, and can I be kept out of the terrorist–"
"–Jon!"
"–case? My kids–" on the verge of breaking down. Whetstone angrily whispered in Stewart's ear.
"If the evidence supports your story, and you fully cooperate, we'll try."
Stewart shook his head. "Too late, Paul." He took another drink, looked down and started. "Brock and I used the gym near our homes. I saw him around, knew he was CIA. Back in May he asked for an introduction to Courtney – to, to get a handle on the politics he said." Bitterly, "I didn't think anything of it."
Whetstone interjected loudly, "In return for his confession and testimony, he won't be charged in relation to the bombing and his name will be kept out of the news?"
Cho repeated, "If his story bears out and he cooperates." He looked at Stewart. "And?"
Stewart took a breath. "That was all. Weeks went by. The bombing happened and Courtney was a mess. I thought it was just because," he looked stricken, "because of all the deaths."
"You attempted to murder Patrick Jane. Why?"
"I worried something was off when I heard Brock died in a car accident. In Sacramento."
"That wasn't released to the media."
"Word gets around when someone dies. I dunno. Someone mentioned it either at the Bureau or maybe the gym."
"How did you end up attacking Patrick Jane?"
"Courtney told me Brock had tricked her, used her information to fake a terrorist attack. She knew your team was on the case. I searched your carry-ons, got your phone numbers. She was hysterical when she found that note in the senator's office."
Skeptically, "That was enough for murder?"
Anger flashed, then faded. "I love – loved – her. She was terrified she'd be dragged into the bombing because of Brock. Your note," he glared at Jane, "had to mean you wanted a bribe to keep quiet." He grimaced. "I didn't know she had helped with the plot. I put a trace on your phones and followed that to the comedy club. I obviously failed," avoiding looking at Jane.
"Brock's dead. How did Brock's accomplice get involved now?"
"Brock had given Courtney a phone number – burner phone I guess – if she needed to contact him. She called, someone answered. She told him the problem. He volunteered to help eliminate the problem."
"Murder."
"Yeah."
Cho slid over a photo of Robert Moss from his CIA file. "Who's this?"
Stewart shrugged. "Don't know, never met him."
Jane nodded minutely: Stewart was telling the truth. Cho took back the photo. "You never exchanged names, anything that could identify him?"
Stewart shook his head, "No." Looking at Jane, "We agreed we'd alternate tailing you," then back to Cho. "I'd ambush Jane at the drop site for the bribe. Brock's man would be back-up if I failed." He looked nauseated. "He failed too. I, uh, I hope no one got hurt."
Jane, coldly. "He injured an agent and killed a young woman, a bystander. You should be proud."
"Oh, god." Destroyed, he looked up, bleak hope in his eyes, "You got him, though?"
Cho answered, "Dead." True, though the ME hadn't finished the autopsy on Moss yet.
Stewart nodded. At least that was something in the screwed up mess. Whetstone went over the agreement with Cho, then left when Stewart was taken away.
Stewart and Wentworth would be charged as soon as the evidence was turned over to the prosecutor. Abbott's DC staff would gather the missing pieces from the ME and CSI teams, search the homes and offices of Stewart, Moss, and Wentworth, turn over that and the other evidence, and brief the lawyers. Evidence of Stewart's murder attempt was air tight, at least the one in the park. Evidence against Wentworth was compelling now that they had Stewart's testimony. Moss was dead. Unless evidence of another co-conspirator turned up, case closed.
Restaurant, DC, Sunday Evening
Cho's team settled for a casual dinner at a DC bar and grill with a stellar reputation, rather than battle weekend crowds at fancier restaurants. It was an away case and the FBI would be picking up the tab no matter where they went. The others didn't mind the bar's TV, hoping to catch the latest sports results. Jane ignored it, thankful the sound was muted. Naturally the case came up, though all took care not to mention identifying details.
"Anyone hear how Ojara's doing?"
Jane answered, "He was discharged this morning. They're probably back in California by now."
Cho added, "According to his wife, Ojara's okay. Minor concussion and a few stitches. Full recovery." All raised their drinks in silent salute.
Vega said slowly, "What I don't get is how you knew the granddaughter was involved."
Jane smiled tiredly, "I suspected her for awhile." Vega's eyebrows rose, her rapt attention flattering. He shrugged, his attempt at modesty fooling no one.
Cho, "Spit it out, Jane. You know you want to."
"Since you insist..." Jane leaned back, enjoying the attention. "She kept showing up every time Cho and I were in DC. Why would an important – pardon, self-important aide to an influential senator bother to attend weekend meetings when she could just get a transcript? It didn't fit. She found out I had been at the airport when it was bombed." He sipped his tea. "She was just a little too solicitous, too upset."
"That's all?" asked Hassan.
"Meh. That and the guilt in her eyes. And that they were from the relevant state. Influential senator, key vote on US foreign policies, and an otherwise inexplicable choice of city for the attack."
Dubiously, "If you say so."
"I do." Catching Wylie's frown, Jane added, "Pay attention to coincidences and pieces that don't fit. Always worthwhile."
Their food arrived and the conversation moved on. Mid-dinner Cho noticed Jane staring at the TV. Quietly, "What, Jane?"
"The political rally in LA turned into a riot. Lisbon–"
"–Is fine. Rigs would have called."
Jane drank more tea and deliberately relaxed. "Yeah. Of course," as he vowed to talk about just how much field work Assistant-Director-soon-to-be-Director Lisbon was planning on.
"Damn," Cho said. He motioned with his chin at the screen. "News vultures found out about the girl's death. I told Stiles not to release any information."
Jane blew out his breath. "Not surprising. Too many employees, too many nosy neighbors." He flicked his hand in dismissal. "Doesn't matter now anyhow."
They finished mid-evening. Hassan, Wylie, Muhammad and Vega caught a flight back to Sacramento, pleased that Cho had given them Monday off. Cho and Jane stayed to meet with Abbott and his boss rather than stay an extra day or have to return. Jane called but got Lisbon's voice mail, so he left a text message.
Flight, DC-to-Sacramento, Sunday-Monday
Cho shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. Even though Jane had again upgraded them to first class, the long day still wasn't over. He idly wondered if Min was finding acceptable adoptive parents for her baby now that he'd gotten the father to release his parental rights.
Jane snagged a flight attendant to request another cup of tea. At least first class makes good tea so he won't gripe about that for the next six hours. Now that Jane had caught his attention he picked up on ... something.
"What's bothering you?" he asked, resigned to dealing with the interpersonal stuff now that he was team leader.
Jane blinked and glanced his way. "Nothing, why?"
"It's late, you look like hell, should be asleep. You're worrying something."
Jane leaned back, eyes closed. "The case."
"What about it?"
"We got Brock's accomplices." He had the grace not to belabor that the note he'd left in the senator's office was the key. "That's just one." Jane picked up on Cho's scowl without opening his eyes. "Everyone who opposes the administration isn't murderous or criminal. But it isn't over with one case."
"Your point?"
"We'll be at it for years."
"So?"
"I'm tired of gigantic conspiracies." Was it really less than a year ago they'd ended Blake? He huffed. "Sometimes a simple life out in the sticks seems tempting."
Wary, "You owe Abbott five years."
Jane grimaced. "I'm aware. Don't worry about me running."
"I'm not. Lisbon's in Sacramento."
"How about you, Cho? Happy where you are?"
Cho shifted again, back bothering him. "Maybe. Like working CT. Need to be around for family more. California - not so much."
"Yeah?"
"The politicians are anti-law enforcement. The idiot Oakland mayor once publicly announced a coming ICE raid. ... I want my mom to move from Oakland, somewhere safer."
"That doesn't seem like such a big deal. One city..."
"Sanctuary state. Criminals get released along with ordinary illegals to thwart ICE. Frisco, LA, other places have given up on doing anything about the homeless. Won't prosecute crimes unless it's over a thousand dollars."
Jane didn't answer. Cho looked over and realized his consultant had fallen asleep. Finally.
