Who, How, When, Where, Why? Chapter 14
FBI headquarters, New York. April, 8. 2006
Looking at the time, Martin tried once again dialing the phone number. On its fourth time during the last forty minutes he got the same result. He stared at the phone as if it was going to talk to him, with such a worried face than it caught his colleagues' attention.
"What's going on Martin? Did some girl refuse to fall for your charm?" Vivian asked.
He shook his head. "It's Danny, it's been three days since I've heard any news from him. It's not normal for him to turn off his cell phone for that long."
Vivian frowned. "Have you passed by his house?"
"No, I just…I just wanted to know how he's doing. I suggested to him to take several days off…"
"Maybe he left, you know, driving that motorcycle he uses from time to time," Sam said.
"No…I don't think so. He'd do it if he was fine, but he's not," Martin replied. "I'm going to ask Patrick, maybe he knows where Danny is," he added walking to the zone where the computer technicians were working on recovering the natural tone of a fake voice.
He made a gesture to Patrick so he left for a moment. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Have you heard from Danny?" he asked.
"No, why?"
Martin looked at him as if he was an idiot. "It's been three days since I've been able to get in touch with him."
"He said he was going home, that he would take several days off. He'll be fine," Patrick said. "Listen, I have to go back to work."
Martin stared at him. Maybe it was just him. However, he walked into Jack's office, knocking on the door and going in without waiting. "Do you want to come with me to Danny's place?" he directly asked.
Jack looked at him in surprise. "What? What's going on?" his questions, to Martin's relieve, were followed by action. Leaving his office, coat and keys in hand, both agents walked into the parking lot and took one of the FBI's cars.
….
"I don't understand why Danny still lives here," Martin protested, noticing the broken elevator and looking at the stairs.
"Come on, it's only five floors," Jack smirked, even if he silently cursed the broken elevator.
"I'll leave a real state agency newspaper on his desk, to see if he gets the idea," Martin continued.
"This is his home, Martin. It always has been," Jack told in a tone that made Martin think that something else was behind those words. "He didn't tell you, huh? Imagine what it means having your own place, after spending most of your life in foster homes. It must be a hell of an experience."
"Yeah," Martin sighed. "I suspected something. Nothing that he told me even if I had asked, right?"
"No need," Jack warned him. "Well, it's here," he said looking at the door. Knocking he waited. Nobody opened, nothing was heard. Approaching his ear to the door, he tried to get some sound. "It looks like there's nobody inside." He followed, taking the keys and opening the door.
The apartment was empty but clearly something had happened there, because of the mess they found. "What happened here?" Martin exclaimed. "And, where's Danny?" Both men exchanged an alarmed look.
"Don't touch anything," Jack ordered, stopping his steps. "Danny!" he yelled while pulling out his cell phone.
Ten minutes later, several agents took fingerprints, photographs, and anything useful for the investigation they had just opened, in an apartment already searched carefully. Jack and Martin looked around the apartment for anything related to what Danny had been doing for the last year, but they didn't find anything. If there was something, it was gone or between the mess of papers in the living room. All of the books from the shelves were scattered on the floor, the drawers emptied and their contents had been thrown on the floor. The living room and the bedroom were a mess. The kitchen cabinets were also opened and emptied even the contents of several packages.
"What were they looking for?" Jack wondered.
"Maybe the gun that Danny and Patrick were talking about the other day?" Martin suggested.
"Maybe. When was the last time you talked to him?"
"That day, it was when I suggested to him to go home." Martin replied, while he took a shiny object from under the bedside. It was an identification plate. He read the name: "Rafael Alvarez."
"Vivian," he said as soon as he heard her voice on the phone. "Yes, well, this is a mess," he answered her questions. "Listen, do you know where Danny's brother lives? We've found an identification plate with his name in Danny's house. I don't think it's useless to question him."
"Let me search in the database. Rafael Alvarez, isn't it?" Vivian confirmed. "Any clue about Danny?"
"No, nothing. Yes, Rafael Alvarez, that's the name."
"Patrick says that Danny asked him for the reports he took to Langley and carried with him, with the gun report they had been talking about. Do you know anything about it? Did you see them?"
"No, I'll search for it, but this is a mess. They were looking for something because it's all removed. But I don't care about that, I only want to know where Danny is," he said with a broken voice.
Vivian bit her lips and closed her eyes. "We'll find him, Martin. Don't despair, we'll find him."
"It's been three days, Viv, and he wasn't fine."
"Sam has called the hospitals and he's not there." She didn't tell her colleague that Sam had also called the morgue with similar results. Martin knew they had called. "I'll visit his brother. I'll tell you if we find anything."
Jack and Martin stayed in the apartment, supervising the agents' work, but they didn't find any significant evidence.
"He didn't get here, Jack. His gun isn't here, his keys, and neither is his wallet… he didn't come in." Martin concluded.
"Or maybe he came in and they took him out, Martin," Jack objected. "Let's ask the neighbors. These walls are thin, something good has to come from an old building."
The adjacent apartment's door was open by a young woman with a baby in her arms and another little curious kid beside her. "Agents Malone and Fitzgerald from the FBI, can we ask you some questions about your neighbor?"
She nodded, letting them enter. "Has he done something wrong?" She asked.
"No, we're looking for him," Martin replied surprised. "Have you heard something strange, different, in the apartment?"
"No, well…the apartment has been empty for a long time, but several weeks ago, two guys came in. My father opened the door because they gave him a note from Danny saying that they were siblings. Danny…I saw him one week ago. He was…well…different."
"What do you mean?" Jack asked, while he read the note the woman still had on a shelf. It had to be Patrick and Alex Cordoba when they arrived to New York, he concluded. Patrick had told him about staying at his home.
"He was thinner and looked tired…"
"Did you hear or see anything strange today, some time ago, several days ago…?" Martin asked in a desperate tone.
"Yes, two days ago, we were sleeping but my husband got up to check on the baby who was crying. When he came back, he told me about an argument in the apartment. At the moment, I didn't care but later, they started like moving the furniture, I almost knocked on the door to tell him some words."
"Could you tell me what language they were speaking?" Martin asked.
"I don't know, I didn't understand well. We heard but didn't understand what they were saying," she replied. "I'm sorry," she continued, noticing the frustrated look on Martin's expression.
"It's not your fault," he said, handing her a card. "If you remember anything, just call me, whatever it is."
She nodded as they left.
Jack's cell phone started ringing as they left the apartment. "Tell me, Viv. Yes, what? Okay, I'll be there right now." He looked at Martin. "Rafi, Danny's brother, he was here. He has some information to tell us."
The man was waiting nervously in the interview room. Temperamental the man was, Rafael Alvarez felt like a caged lion. Being arrested with the conditional wasn't the best of the situations and he hadn't done anything wrong. Or at least he believed that, because as much as he tried, he wasn't able to remember what had happened since the beer he had drank and the guys who sat down beside him, until the moment he appeared at home with a swelled eye and some bruises on his face, just to scare his son, Nicky. And now the FBI was taking him to the offices and didn't say a word.
"Good afternoon, Rafael," Jack said, going into the interview room and sitting down in front of him.
"What am I doing here? What are you accusing me of?" he yelled.
"Calm down, Rafael. Can you explain what you were doing in your brother's apartment three days ago?"
"He's…he's my brother. Have I been in his house?" He asked with such a confused face that Jack couldn't help but believe him.
"We found this," he said showing the ID with Rafi's name. "And your fingerprints are all around the apartment, bedroom, kitchen, living room…"
"Where's my brother?"
"That's what we're trying to find out. What do you remember? How did this ID get into his apartment?"
Rafi shook his head as Jack was talking. "I…I don't know, but I know that something happened. I don't know, I arrived home with a swollen eye, my lips hurt…." Rafi showed him, "…and a cut on my cheek," There were still the marks on his face.
"Tell me what you remember," Jack asked. He realized that Rafie could barely help them, he didn't seem to have a clear mind.
"We had left the mechanic garage and went to drink some beers,"
"Who?"
"Me, Dorta and Manuel, from the garage. They left but I stayed. Then, those guys I hadn't seen in my life approached me, asked for beers and started talking. One of them asked me if I lived nearby and where to find a…a…I don't know, I don't remember… it's not clear from then…" Rafie remained quiet for a second, remembering something. "Excuse me a second," he asked standing up and taking off his t-shirt. Jack saw what Rafi was looking for. The mark of a syringe was still on his arm.
"Maybe you were drugged," Jack commented. "We'll do a blood test," he added knowing, however, that it was possibly too late for it. "Look at these pictures, do you recognize any of them?" Jack put on the desk a picture of Andres Miranda and Carlos Torres. Rafi frowned. "Rafael, I know this is complicated but try to remember and tell me what you can, even if just a few images."
"No, they weren't. I don't know, let me think…I remember a car, it wasn't a cab. I don't remember how long or where. I remember a building…a service elevator…we went into an apartment. I think I fell asleep on a couch. When I woke up everything spun around me and I couldn't see fine, but I know they put me on my feet and…and…I think the door was opened…. Someone said my name…maybe…I think Danny. The next I remember was my scared son looking at me at home."
Jack could elaborate a theory immediately. But, why did they let Rafi live? Why take that risk? And, why did they use him to get to Danny? They didn't need him, unless…
"Did they interrogate you?" He asked.
Rafi shook his head. "They said something like…like 'divert the attention'… what would they mean?"
Jack got an answer, especially because he had thought about it at first. "So, they said that before or after they removed your id?"
"What do you mean? Did they hurt Danny and they want me to look guilty?" Rafi yelled losing his temper.
"We know you didn't, calm down. Look, I'm going to call the sketch artist and I want you to collaborate with him in describing those guys. If you don't remember well, just focus on the time you spent with them in the bar, before you were drugged, alright? If you remember some specific detail, the tone of their voices, the accent, any tattoos… whatever, don't forget to tell, do I make myself clear?"
Rafii nodded. "But, where's Danny? Where's my brother?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out."
…..
Jack left the interrogation room with the frustration in his face. He didn't want to place the picture of his agent on the whiteboard and write the red line with the events from the last hours before his disappearance, hours they knew pretty well. It wasn't necessary to investigate much to know who was behind Danny's disappearance, and it had nothing to do with Rafael Alvarez.
"Spread his picture through Police stations, hospitals…" he ordered Sam.
"Right now," she said. "Jack…" They both exchanged a worried look, too much time had passed.
"I'm going to talk to Robert Conrad, he must know something. Call me if you find some lead."
"Where are you going?" Martin asked.
"Washington," Jack replied.
"I'm going with you," Martin began, standing up, but Jack stopped him.
"No, I need you here, I need you all here."
"Well guys, let's organize this," Vivian ordered, taking the lead immediately, while Jack left the FBI offices and New York well soon to a FBI plane heading to Washington.
Two hours later, he was going into the CIA building in Langley, where he had been so recently. A shiver ran down his body as he remembered the last time he had been there. He hadn't called and didn't know if he would meet Robert Conrad. Contact with the FBI Director would be a good idea if he didn't meet him. But he was lucky and had to wait less than five minutes after announcing his name.
"Agent Malone," Conrad approached him offering his hand. "I'm Robert Conrad, you asked for me,"
"Yes, indeed. Where can we talk?" Jack asked.
"In my office, please, come with me. Uhm…. If I remember well, you're…"
"I work with the FBI, Missing Persons Unit in New York. I'm Danny Taylor's supervisor," Jack cut him off, doubting Conrad wouldn't know that.
Conrad had stopped and opened a door. They went in and he closed it. "Take a seat, please. How can I help you?"
"Agent Taylor is missing," Jack began. Conrad, who was going to sit down, stayed still, surprised. "I think it has something to do with the mission he did for you."
"What? What happened?" Conrad asked frowning.
" I expected you tell me. Three days ago, some guys took him out from home. The way we found his apartment, it was clear they were searching for something. We suspect they were looking for the gun he had during his stay in the house in Washington."
"What gun?"
"Danny ordered to investigate the serial number and it resulted to be involved in gunfire where two DEA agents were shot and killed. It's registered to Carlos Torres. I know enough to imply the importance this fact has for you."
Conrad had paled. "That…report…was encrypted and protected. How the hell did he get the inform…? Oh, Patrick, of course."
"You did great your work recruiting them for that mission," Jack said. "Tell me how I can find my agent, Conrad."
Robert Conrad raised a finger, inviting him to stay quiet while his mind tried to assimilate the information and his ideas.
"This report you talk about, where is it?" he asked.
"Danny took with him when he disappeared. He told a colleague he would take all the information he had to revise it in detail because it was something that worried him, especially since he knew the property of the gun."
"Of course, it wouldn't be a good thing for other people know about that."
"Like Andrés Miranda?" Jack asked.
"I didn't know about that gun. It had to be Andrés who placed it in the house. He's interested in making sure that Taylor disappears. That report brings veracity to Carlos Torres's position in this moment and Miranda went directly to the trap, but it wasn't the intention when it was done."
"The report is false," Jack understood.
"Yes and no, the gun is property of Carlos but it wasn't used during that gunfire. Carlos Torres is one of us, but under Miranda's eyes, he had to be a corrupted agent, his contact in Miami."
"Why don't you stop putting my agent in danger, Conrad? Danny Taylor can be an excellent agent but he's not one of yours, and he doesn't want to be. I've been told you've forced too much his situation."
"Maybe it's late, but I'll try to find out what's happening, Agent Malone. When I talked to your agent and he agreed to take part in this mission, he already knew about the risk…"
"Don't say stupid things, Conrad. I perfectly know the way you do things. Did you explain to him that he was risking his life to take out a corrupted agent on the island? I bet you didn't explain to him that specific detail. You didn't explain it to him because he knew just a few hours before he disappeared. He also understood then that your contact was actually a woman named Clara Torres… the gun owner's sister."
Conrad facial muscle turned tense for a second.
"You're thinking about her at this moment, aren't you?" Jack shook his head. "Danny was right, we advised him to talk to you but he didn't want to. Now, I know why." He sharply stood up and walked toward the door. Before leaving he added. "If something happens to Taylor, I'll make you responsible of it Conrad. Remember my words because I swear you I'll do i5. So, do your job."
Two days earlier someplace in New York, in a bank of the Hudson River.
Duane Jones looked in disbelief at the guy staring at his whiskey bottle he had found on a nearby trash, his dinner for the night. He raised a warning filthy finger, while still unbalanced dropped his body on the place he usually spent the night. He organized the cartons and sit to enjoy the last gulp. Around him, a dozen indigent people, some of them old known, took position to spend one more night. He didn't know he would be lucky, until one moment later, the light of the moon brought him the brilliant light of an object near the water. In that zone, going into the Hudson was easy, even if none of them would try. The curiosity, however, tempted him, and walking carefully through the mud and grass, Duane approached the water.
He didn't see the man laying on the bank, he saw the shoes, the coat, the pants, the shirt… but specially the shoes. He figured out it fit his feet well so he approached to removed them… would he have a pocket? Other indigents approached, and now all of them fought the right to take some clothes. Between three of them, they took the man out the bank. He was still breathing but it would be a matter of time before he died, they decided. Removing his shoes and coat, the wrist watch and socks that someone put close to the fire in a metallic container, they left the man and the ruined shirt he wore and came back to their business. Duane looked proud at his new shoes for the next years, so did Maria who decided she wouldn't be cold that winter. It was her now looking suspiciously around. Let someone dare try to steal her coat. They would get more than they bargained for.
…