Operation Hell Gate - Marc Cerasini [78]
"By all means." Jeffrey Dodge rose, placed a hand on Jessica's shoulder. On their way out Dodge completely ignored Tony — and that was the plan.
While Jessica kept the man distracted, Tony leaned across the desk and flipped the keyboard upside down. He slapped the tiny self-adhesive device in the palm of his hand onto the bottom of the keyboard, then put the keyboard down. In less than three seconds the job was done.
Tony knew that a routine security sweep would immediately uncover the CTU spyware device, but such measures were taken only once or twice a week. In the meantime the tiny transmitter would broadcast every keystroke on the FBI director's keypad back to CTU headquarters. The next time Jeffrey Dodge logged onto his computer, Jamey Farrell would have his password. Using it, she could then download the classified FBI files on Frank Hensley from the Bureau's own database.
* * *
12:36:54 P.M. EDT
Wexler Business Storage
Houston Street, Lower Manhattan
Wexler Business Storage was housed in a dreary six-story brick building on Houston Street in the West Village. The chipped, over-painted cornerstone revealed the date of construction as 1908. A cast-iron fire escape climbed the front of the red-brick edifice. The arched windows had once admitted sunlight, but were now shuttered with dense black glass.
An SUV identical to the one Dante Arete had perished inside was parked at the curb. Behind it, a New York City police car with three officers gathered around it.
Jack dragged Caitlin back, peered around the corner.
"What's the matter, Jack? Don't you want to go in there?"
"I can't. Thanks to a corrupt FBI agent, the police are looking for me. I can't risk being spotted."
Caitlin peeked around the corner, studied the building for a moment. "Why don't I go?"
"That's crazy."
Caitlin faced him. "Look. There's a help wanted sign on the door. I'll pretend to apply for the job. Maybe I can check the place out. If you tell me what you're looking for I can..."
"No," said Jack. "I have a better idea..."
* * *
12:41:12 P.M. EDT
CTU Headquarters, Los Angeles
"I've got Jeffrey Dodge's password," Jamey said, her fingers poised over the keyboard. She typed the code into a secure data line. "Okay, I'm in."
Five minutes later, Nina was scanning Special Agent Frank Hensley's personnel file on screen. She learned that Hensley had many Bureau citations, most earned for undercover assignments. But as they thought, Hensley's most recent investigation centered on Dante Arete's Brooklyn gang, the Columbia Street Posse.
The case had not gone well; at least that's what Hensley reported to his superiors. The Posse out-smarted the FBI at every turn, rooted out informants, and when Hensley's partner tried to take extraordinary means to get a conviction, he was murdered by Dante or his lieutenants — at least that's what Hensley told his bosses. But Nina knew Hensley was a liar, so he might be lying about his partner's death, too.
Going back through his personnel file, Nina discovered Hensley was a 1991-92 Gulf War veteran of the U.S. Army. He had been a prisoner of war, too. A captive of the Iraqis in Baghdad for nearly three months.
The capture took place when Hensley had been on routine patrol along the border of Occupied Kuwait. His men had been killed by an elite Iraqi unit, but since Hensley was the highest-ranking officer, his life had been spared and he was spirited to Baghdad to act as a human shield. Hensley was released at the end of hostilities, along with all the other American and Coalition prisoners. He left the Army, finished earning his law degree, and took a job with the Bureau.
Nina cursed. The files revealed nothing. They were the history of an exemplary citizen — war hero, law enforcement officer, dedicated civil servant.
"He's divorced," said Ryan Chappelle, startling Nina. She turned to find him staring at the monitor. "It says so right there. He was married for three years. Her maiden name was Katherine Elizabeth Felloes and she was born in Los Angeles, attended Beverly Hills High