Free The Bricklayer by Noah Boyd Page B

make is believing that because something was done once, it was done right.” Kate nodded in agreement. “Now, what do we know about Stanley Bertok’s personal life?” he asked.
    “We’ve interviewed his supervisor. He described him as suffering from what he calls ‘the dysfunctional twos.’”
    “What’s that?”
    “Too much booze, too little money, and two ex-wives. He thinks Bertok may have seen an opportunity to downsize his problems and taken it.”
    “And psychologically?”
    “Intelligent but brooding. No friends and not the world’s most dedicated agent.”
    “But nothing to explain why our little band of terroristspicked him to make the drop. If they knew him well enough to ask for him, wouldn’t they have to assume he was a risk to take off with the money?”
    “Which leads us right back to him and the Pentad being one and the same, or at least being in it together.”
    “For something so well planned, this has some conspicuously dangling loose ends.”
    “Haven’t you heard, there’s no such thing as a perfect crime.”
    “Unfortunately, it doesn’t have to be perfect to get away with it.”
     
    EXPLAINING TO KATE that he had been up the entire night reading the contents of the Rubaco Pentad file, Vail slept during the entire flight to Los Angeles. After they landed at one of the secure runways used by government planes coming into LAX, Kate had to wake him. As Vail stepped off the plane and into the blinding white light of the Southern California sun, he couldn’t help but stretch himself against its silky warmth. The sky was a different blue than that of Chicago or even Washington. A thin band of gray-orange haze at the horizon separated it from the earth.
    Parked a hundred feet away was a dark green sedan. A seemingly stoic man in his thirties wearing a tailored summer-weight suit was walking toward their plane. He had the practiced expression of someone whose first priority was that of confident congeniality, suggesting he was part of the office management team. He came up to Kate and offered his hand. “Allen Sabine,” he said. Kate took his hand and introduced him to Vail. The two men shook hands. Sabine’s dark hair had been carefully cut, and he stood with a practiced slouch that angled his face away to mask a long, sharp nose. He tried to take her bag, but she smiled graciously and said she needed the exercise. Sabine pointed at the sedan. “This is the vehicle we rented for you while you’re here. It has the GPS navigational system you requested. We also put in a complete set of maps for most of Southern California. The SAC is available to meet with you anytime this morning.”
    “Okay,” Kate said, “let’s get it over with.” She said to Vail, “The SAC is Mark Hildebrand. Ever run into him?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “He seems okay, a little territorial on the phone when I told him we were coming out.”
    “Territorial’s not all bad. Maybe he actually cares about what happens in his division.”
    “You’re irritatingly positive after your nap.”
    “Sorry. Give me a few minutes with him, and I’m sure I’ll be as good as new.”
    They got in the car, Kate in the front and Vail in the back. She handed him a Glock model 22 encased in a holster, with two extra clips. Then with just enough ceremony to be sarcastic, she handed him an operation manual for the weapon. “I thought you should at least know how to load it.”
    “You could have given me this before we took off.”
    “You were asleep. Plus, I was curious whether you’d ask for it, and since you haven’t been checked out, I didn’t want you practicing your quick draw on the plane and accidentally shooting me or the pilot.”
    “I would have been careful not to shoot you. I can imagine the paperwork involved.” She handed him a credit card and then a cell phone. “Speaking of paperwork, don’t I need to sign for all this?”
    She lowered her voice. “After your little speech to the director