CHAPTER 44

Both cars arrived at the safe house around seven thirty. Calling it a “safe house” was somewhat of a misnomer. It was safe for sure, but not a house. The building was actually a converted warehouse in an industrial park adjacent to Midway Airport. The location made sense for two reasons. First, it was not in a residential area where innocent people could be endangered by a violent confrontation. Second was the setup. The building only had two entrances, with no windows at ground level. One entrance was a single, large overhead door on the front of the building, and the other was the office entrance on the side. Both were fortified with sophisticated security systems and reinforced doors with automatic locking systems. Their visit was definitely not the first time this facility had been used for a similar purpose.

The on-duty agents, other than the ones who brought Miles and Ryan to the safe house, were all dressed as warehouse workers. Whatever they were armed with was well hidden underneath their jackets, which likely concealed bulletproof vests as well. Miles assumed the locked cabinets attached to the back wall housed an assortment of heavy firepower.

The warehouse office space had been redesigned to allow for conversion into multiple bedrooms as needed. It was equipped with several movable partitions rather than stationary walls. This would allow the room to be configured as needed to accommodate the number of people staying there. A large number of cots were stacked off to the side, which could deploy in a matter of minutes. The layout also included a good-sized bathroom which, with its multiple toilet stalls and shower room, resembled a high school locker room. There was also a stove, refrigerator, and a single television. The larger area of the warehouse acted as a garage for the agents’ vehicles, and included some long tables and chairs as well as a small exercise area with some free weights and a treadmill.

“Home sweet home,” Miles declared, tongue-in-cheek.

“I must say I’ve never stayed in a place quite like this,” said Ryan.

“You must not have been in the armed services,” a familiar voice declared.

Sure enough, there was Agent Drummond, who must have slipped through the side door while they unpacked.

“How was your ride in?” she asked in the businesslike tone she always assumed when her agents were present.

“Harrowing, as expected,” Miles replied.

“I’m doing everything I can to ensure this will be as harrowing as it gets while you’re here. Speaking of which, please remember you are to stay in this building so we can provide you with protection until we get a line on the whereabouts of Jonathan Reese. Understand?” She spoke firmly.

“I have a question,” said Miles. “You had to curtail our search in Mexico because of budget restraints, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right. Why do you ask?”

“Watching my home and office. Bringing us here, guarding us, feeding us, and going all out to find Reese costs money, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but that’s all included in my discretionary budget. Mexico was money specifically approved by my boss in DC. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes. I get it.”

“Anyone have any other questions?” she asked.

Miles raised his hand like he was in school. “So, no news on Reese?”

She shot him a dirty look. “Nothing yet. Assuming your friend in Mexico is right about his return to the area, I suspect we’ll get wind of him very soon. I’m not anticipating the need for you to assist in any way.”

“And if you do need us . . .” said Ryan.

“Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it. For now, you’re here for security purposes only.” Agent Drummond had deftly deflected the question.

“What about Ken?” Miles asked.

“He’ll be working at headquarters and staying at a different secure location,” she assured him.

Miles accepted her explanation with a nod although he had hoped for more reassurance about Ken’s safety.

“Will we have internet access?” Ryan asked.

“Yes. But you will need to use our VPN and an incognito browser when you do. One of the agents will assist you in setting that up. Any other questions?” Agent Drummond asked, staring directly at Miles.

“What about meals?” Miles’s one-track, food-oriented mind had popped up once again.

She cracked a smile as if she knew the question was coming. “There are beverages in the refrigerator and snacks in the cupboards. We’ll have each day’s meals dropped off every morning. That’s it for me.” With that, she turned for the door and motioned for the agent standing behind her to follow.

“Kinda like jail, wouldn’t you say?” Ryan suggested.

“Yes,” replied Miles, “but in this case the walls are there to keep the criminals out.”

The night passed uneventfully. Miles awoke in the morning to the sound of a group discussion coming from the large, open area of the warehouse. Miles dressed quickly and went to see what was going on. He found Ryan standing off to the side of the room.

“Just in time to see the changing of the guard,” Ryan announced.

“I wondered what caused all the commotion. Did the new shift bring breakfast?” Miles asked, true to form.

“Yep. All properly stowed in the kitchen. By the way, they also left each of us with an untraceable phone to use.”

That’s all Miles needed to hear. He headed directly to the kitchen and rummaged through the grocery bags that had been deposited on the kitchen counter.

Ryan joined him. “What are you planning to do today to pass the time?”

Before answering, Miles pulled a box of Cheerios and a container of milk from the bags. “I’ll see if I can make some progress in my client’s search for her sperm-donor father. And you?”

“I’ve decided to take what I’ve learned about Puerto Vallarta and turn it into a travel article.”

“For your guy at the Times?”

“Sure, but he’ll likely just refer me to the editor of the travel section. If they turn me down, I’ll have to submit it to other publications.” After answering Miles’s question, Ryan left the kitchen to get to work at the small desk in the bedroom that he had chosen for his workstation.

Miles stayed in the kitchen, positioning his laptop on the table alongside his cereal bowl and coffee cup. He spent about an hour scouring the internet, looking for an expert in genealogy to assist with his research on behalf of Tracy Littman. While he was in the process of editing his list of possibilities, it dawned on him that he and the FBI had left Anne totally exposed should Reese come looking for him at the office. He immediately picked up the phone and, since it was before her normal starting time, called her cell phone.

“Good morning, Darien Investigations,” Anne answered in an uncharacteristic monotone.

Miles was relieved to hear her voice. “Hi, Anne. It’s me.”

“I was so worried about you!” she exclaimed.

“Why?”

“The FBI stopped by the office late yesterday and instructed me to have all the office calls forwarded to my cell phone. Then they told me to leave the office and stay somewhere other than my house and not to call you. They didn’t say why, but obviously I did what they said. What in the world is going on?”

Miles felt elated and guilty all at the same time. The FBI had not left Anne exposed like he had.

“Remember when I told you about the Olivia Sims case? Well, the man behind that criminal enterprise has resurfaced, and the FBI believes he may try to exact revenge on me and others close to me, particularly those who were involved in the case. Thankfully, Olivia is in Florida on spring break, and George and Cora are at their place on Rock Lake with Molly. Now that you’re in a safe place, everyone appears to be accounted for.”

“Where are you?” Anne asked.

“Ryan and I are in a safe place, also thanks to the FBI. I have some work for you to do on Tracy Littman’s case, which I suspect will be a welcome distraction. I’ve uncovered four candidates who appear to have the right credentials to assist us with the genealogical research on Tracy’s biological father. I’d like you to interview each of them and give me your recommendation on which one to hire. Then I’ll follow up with that person to get things rolling. Do you know if Tracy had her DNA test yet?”

“I don’t know but I’ll find out. Do you want me to stay in touch with you at this number?”

“Actually, I think it’s wiser to use email,” Miles advised. “Much harder to use it to pinpoint someone’s location. Please send the emails to my personal account, not the business one. I trust you have a personal account as well, and if you don’t mind, let’s use that on your end.”

“I do, and I’ll send you an email so you’ll have my address. Then email me your list of genealogists and I’ll immediately get started on the interviews. As soon as I have the information about the status of Tracy’s test, I’ll send that back to you. Thanks for trusting me with that assignment. It means a lot to know you have that level of confidence in me.” Anne’s voice had returned to its normal upbeat tone.

“You’ve earned it,” said Miles, pleased. “Keep me posted on your progress.”

“I will,” she promised.

Miles had been instructed not to access his office email until advised it was secure. He decided he had to check it once before complying to see if anything important had come in. Depending on the subject and the sender, he would decide whether to respond and how. Only two of the emails were important. The first one was from Carl Rafferty about Danny’s assault case. It read:

“The charges have been reduced to a misdemeanor, and they will be expunged in a year if there are no other incidents. Given their son’s provocation of Danny, the family of the boy has agreed to settle for reimbursement of their out-of-pocket medical costs, which will likely be limited to their insurance deductible. All in all about the best possible outcome. Carl.”

The second was from Jim Rathburn thanking Miles profusely for referring him to Carl. Another positive outcome to add to his recent winning streak, Miles thought. Under the circumstances, responses to both could wait until Miles felt safe using his own phone to call them.

As the last order of business at her afternoon staff meeting, Agent Drummond asked her investigators if they had uncovered anything indicating Jonathan Reese’s return to Chicago.

Agent Harmon reported that a small plane had landed at Palwaukee Municipal Airport in Palatine after midnight two nights before.

“What was so unusual about that?”

Agent Harmon handed the report to Agent Drummond. “We have alerted all airports in the area to notify us of all noncommercial flights that land without filing a flight plan in advance. That was the first one to be reported. Particularly interesting about that one was that it landed and dropped off a single passenger who had a car and driver waiting for them. The plane took off as soon as the passenger was clear of the aircraft. We’re checking on details of the plane’s registration so we can look into its origin and then interrogate the pilot about the passenger.”

“Good work. Keep me posted on any additional information you uncover. What else?”

None of the agents had anything additional to add.

“Come on, boys and girls, we have the upper hand here. We have information that he may be in the area, and he has no idea we know it.” She adjourned the meeting with an order. “Get after it, people!”

Ken stayed behind to talk to his boss. “Any reason why I can’t take a ride out to the safe house to visit Miles?” he asked.

“A big one. We want as little activity around that place as possible. If anyone should spot you going in there, they’ll surely know where Miles is hiding.”

“Wouldn’t they assume the same thing if they see me at my own safe house?”

“Sure, but he wouldn’t be there. Listen, Ken, I’m just trying to minimize exposure for everyone involved in this. If Reese is here in town, we’ll get him soon enough and then everyone’s life can return to normal. Understand?” Her question was more like an order.

“Of course, but I had to ask.”

“Now you’ve asked. Sorry I couldn’t give you the answer you wanted. Let’s get back to work and find that creep.”