Chapter Twenty
“Being with his sister in Spokane” gave a guy a lot of leeway to work behind the scenes. Amazing how also knowing who owed Walter favors led to expedited warrants. With minimal effort Lucky compiled a mountain of information.
He sat at his kitchen table, sipping coffee and tracking the fateful shipment that closed Chastain’s doors. Sun streamed through the windows, nephews taking root on the couch he might have to have surgically removed from their asses one day soon. At least he knew their whereabouts.
A man could get used to working from home.
Hmm… Phillip certainly had his fingers in a lot of pies. Many of his schemes fell just this side of illegal. Others?
Both the purchase order and receipt of shipment signatures matched the illegible chicken scratch Phillip used to sign his SNB reports. The HR department at Chastain used a computerized system to produce employee ID badges, so no big deal to get a copy of the badge Phillip had used.
O’Donoghue blocking research to Forsyth? Forsyth’s new hire coming from DEA? The man either wasn’t smart enough to hide his tracks or thought his position meant he’d do what he wanted and not get caught.
Not on Lucky’s watch.
Lucky couldn’t get his hands on Forsyth’s records, not without probable cause and a warrant, which would tip O’Donoghue off to his research. There was nothing illegal about hiring a man for a job.
Phillip didn’t do his own thinking, even in his personal life. He likely followed O’Donoghue’s orders. If he faced serious enough charges, he might give up some dirt on his boss.
As Lucky had done to Victor Mangiardi many years ago.
Nope. Not going there. Lucky sure as hell didn’t have anything in common with Butt Kisser Phillip.
Lucky dove back into his buttload of borderline illegally gotten records.
There had to be some reason O’Donoghue snatched up Walter’s job and took Lucky off street work.
Still, Lucky needed more proof against the man. Maybe he should call Nestor. No, better not make a deal with the devil.
Maybe another devil.
He dialed Keith’s number and left a message on voice mail. “Okay, you asshole, I’ve had enough of your shit. Bring your sorry ass to the gym and fight me like a man, in the ring.” If anyone managed to intercept the message, they’d now know Lucky wasn’t in Spokane, but oh well.
He pushed Cat Lucky off his lap, strode into the bedroom, and filled his gym bag. On his way to the front door he paused. “I have to go out for a while. Y’all behave yourselves while I’m gone.”
Moose opened his eyes, stared up at Lucky from his place by the couch, thumped his tail twice, and promptly went back to sleep.
With more spring in his step than Lucky had a right to, he traipsed out the door. With any luck, he’d find Keith waiting for him.
Now to put plans into motion.
Even if he did have to call in Keith for help. An SNB agent beat one of O’Donoghue’s puppets any day of the week.
***
“I’m not fighting you.” Keith stood in the gym locker room, fully clothed, and with no gym bag in sight.
“You’ve smartened up some then.” Lucky couldn’t resist the dig.
Keith rolled his eyes. “Is there a reason you called me here?”
“Yeah. No one will question us being here, and I didn’t want to get Lisa involved again.”
“What for?” Keith took a step back.
“I need a favor.” Lucky dropped his gym bag to the floor and crossed his arms over his chest. Normally, he’d love to intimidate Keith. Right now he needed information. “I thought we’d be safe enough here to talk.”
“Except that the gym is the last place I’d willingly go.” Keith waved a hand, indicating a body more used to a couch and TV than a gym.
Oh. Yeah. “Well, there is that.”
Keith narrowed his eyes. “What do you need?”
“Were you ever able to locate the missing parts of the video you gave me?”
“No. Why?”
“I need more evidence on O’Donoghue.” Lucky gave his nemesis the condensed version of all he’d learned, minus the part about Walter being on his way back into the game. As much as it pained him to take a dickwad like Keith into his confidence, he’d proven his loyalty to Walter.
“What do you need from me?”
“You’re the surveillance expert. I need something tying him to what happened at Chastain Pharmaceuticals. Phillip was undercover there when the illegal shipment showed up, but that doesn’t prove O’Donoghue put him up to it. I also have reason to believe he’ll soon be working for Forsyth.”
Proof of Phillip planting an illegal shipment would bring more than just embarrassment to both DEA and SNB.
Which didn’t make sense. If O’Donoghue could be working at Forsyth, making one hell of a lot more than with the SNB, why hang around?
“What do you want me to do, specifically?” Keith relaxed his fight or flight stance. Slightly.
“Can you bug Phillip?” Johnson still had the necklace, but so far Phillip hadn’t said anything useful to her. He’d brag to his buddies at work though.
Keith shook his head. “I’ll do what I can, but while Phillip isn’t exactly smart, some of his cohorts have enough sense to realize lines are drawn, and sooner or later, we’re going to push back.” He rested his hands on his hips. “I’d keep an eye on Landry if I were you.”
Lucky always did, but didn’t feel the need to share. “Any particular reason?”
“I dunno. Just something about him gives me the creeps.” Keith gave an exaggerated shiver.
Lucky could say the same about Keith, but didn’t.
For now.
Lucky waited a few minutes after Keith left and strode down the sidewalk, slowing when he spotted the paper on his windshield, held in place by a wiper blade. Probably a church flier, or some kind of business ad.
A quick perusal of the street showed no other cars so adorned.
Gingerly he plucked the paper, held it up to his nose, and read, “You were warned.”
Oh hell.
***
Lucky sat back in his car, pulled his laptop into his lap, and tapped into a nearby coffee shop’s Wi-Fi.
What would Walter do in his situation? O’Donoghue was the obvious culprit, with the knowledge, the connections, the flunkies, the motivation.
But…
O’Donoghue was the obvious choice, right?
Obvious.
Lucky punched his keyboard, calling up the damning video. Keith had fed him this piece of evidence. Why? To lead Lucky toward O’Donoghue? Possibly. But in doing so, he’d exposed himself as having placed the camera. He’d also invaded Lisa’s house and involved her in his schemes.
That wasn’t the act of a con man, but a desperate man. Keith stood to lose his entire career. Years of his life. His status as senior agent.
Also add in that O’Donoghue wasn’t sloppy enough to leave a blatant trail. Nor juvenile enough to leave notes on cars. Though Lucky would likely not be able to raise any prints from the paper.
Back when he’d worked for Victor he’d been the dumb Southern redneck, the boy toy, someone no one paid a lick of attention. He’d stolen millions of dollars in drugs for his boss, hung out at Victor’s parties with people whose lips grew looser the more they drank.
They didn’t watch what they said, and likely marveled later when Victor knew their secrets.
Because Lucky had never been obvious.
What a fool he’d been. Someone had tossed him O’Donoghue. Pretty much set the guy up, using Lucky’s own opinions against him.
He wouldn’t rule out O’Donoghue completely, but he needed to widen his net. Who, then?
Phillip didn’t strike Lucky as the type to be the brains of so much as a circle jerk, yet he’d hung a microphone around Rett Johnson’s neck.
Rogers didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Still, he’d tailed Lucky more than once.
Lucky entered them both into the database, Rogers first. Security clearance background checks might leave off number of hangnails suffered per year, but not much else.
Technically, Lucky shouldn’t have access to such, but hey, if they didn’t want him digging they should put someone other than Keith in charge of IT.
Mediocre grades, barely passed his marksmanship test, and only got into the SNB because of his coding ability and an uncle in law enforcement.
Phillip Eustace? Another matter entirely. Lucky let out a low whistle. The guy’s father had defended some pretty notorious crime bosses and gotten them out of federal charges with a slap on the wrist. Either he was worth the money paid to him by his clients, had connections, or was one conniving lawyer.
Brrr… Lucky caught a chill from the picture of Phillip’s mother, who looked down her nose at one of the finest agents Lucky’d ever met.
Phillip had applied at one hell of a lot of schools, names Lucky had heard his wannabe-wealthy brother yammer on about with no hope in hell of attending, not even on Victor’s dime. He’d flunked out of the one Ivy League school that let him in, and changed his major from pre-law to criminal and social justice, getting his four-year degree in five years from the University of St. Francis.
He’d barely eked by.
Not the sharpest tool in the shed. Nothing new to Lucky.
The guy’s parents had connections though. From what Johnson said, if Phillip showed the least inkling of ambition Mommy and Daddy might buy him a position somewhere.
Of those two, neither seemed likely.
Now for contestant number three: Owen Landry.
Lucky took a deep breath and cleared his mind. If he didn’t let his old prejudices go he’d blind himself to critical facts. Yes, the jerkoff tried to get close to Bo, but couldn’t. Bo drew people like moths to a flame. Besides, Lucky curled up to that flame every night, Landry didn’t.
Wow. He’d also been a criminal justice major, but top of his class. Father and brother in DEA, which might explain how Landry ended up there. Had they pulled strings to get him in?
Not likely.
So, not a complete moron. Had ties to some pretty influential people.
Lucky let out a low whistle. Boyfriend been busy the past few years, climbing the ranks. He’d volunteered to train with SNB, and had beaten out a lot of talented agents for the privilege. Brownest nose this side of the Mississippi.
School records, resume, interviews with family and friends while Landry earned a security clearance. Clearances weren’t cheap, and many places hired someone who’d already earned the honor rather than have to cough up the money themselves.
On paper, he made one hell of a job candidate.
Why, then, was he sniffing around O’Donoghue? While O’Donoghue had connections, he didn’t have a lot of power. Not the kind guys like Landry wanted anyway.
But the man was such a fuck off.
And don’t you do your damnedest to be underestimated?
All the woman at Forsyth got out was “O”. Could she have meant Owen Landry and not O’Donoghue?
Landry didn’t have the skills necessary for a position of power.
Unless he bought his way in with a competitor’s product.