Don't Order Dog_ 1(71)
“Look Chip, I need to know something. Are you really worried about this guy Jeri’s getting letters from?”
Chip’s eyes quickly lost their glint of humor as he gazed at Tom.
“Of course I am. Why are you asking?”
“Because I’m worried about him too. But the difference between you and me is that I’m in a position to do something about it.”
Chip looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Let me show you,” Tom said, releasing Chip’s arm. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card, holding it out for the older man to see.
Chip stared at the Federal crest emblazoned on the card and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re with the Department of Homeland Security?”
“Keep your voice down,” Tom hissed as he glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, I’m an investigator with the ICE division of Homeland Security, and before I say anything else, I need your word that everything discussed here stays strictly between the two of us.”
Chip furrowed his brow. “Do I strike you as the kind of guy that handles confidential information loosely?”
Tom stared at Chip.
“Yes, you have my word.”
“Good,” Tom replied. He looked around again to make sure no one else was within earshot before glancing down the bar. Jeri was still coiled up in her corner absorbed in the thick book on her lap. “What I’m about to tell you is highly confidential,” he said quietly, still weighing his next words. Ethically speaking, Tom knew he was about to tread on shaky ground, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed the older man’s help. It was clear that Chip was the only man that Jeri appeared to trust – let alone like – which meant he was also Tom’s only hope of being an informant. Of course, the best way to control a potential informant was to “amp-up” the scale and seriousness of the situation. And as Tom now saw it, exaggerating the level of Federal Agency involvement was the most convincing way to do this.
“I’m currently heading an investigation of potential terrorism involving the deaths of three individuals that have occurred within the last two months,” he said quietly, his voice low and serious. “And here’s what I know. Each of these individuals were either murdered or died under suspicious circumstances. Each of them was a researcher with the same large oil company. But what’s most interesting of all,” he paused and pointed at the far wall. “Is that each of them died at a time and location that exactly matches a letter pinned to that goddamn wall.”
Chip looked at Tom disbelievingly. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered, his blue eyes wide with shock.
“The first incident occurred in India,” Tom continued, “in what appears at first glance to have been a freak accident. The second incident involved a terrorist-style explosion inside a luxury hotel in Nigeria. And the third incident, perhaps the craziest one of all, involved the victim falling overboard from a yacht that was cruising off the coast of Venezuela and getting chopped into little pieces. India, Nigeria, Venezuela – all places Jeri’s little pen pal has visited, and each at the same time as our victims’ deaths. Now, you tell me, Chip… would you call that a coincidence?”
Chip silently shook his head.
“Of course, Homeland Security has limited international resources, at least directly, so the CIA is handling the majority of the on-site investigative work overseas. I’m handling the investigation here.” Tom slipped his business card back into his pocket and looked at the older man. “Chip, this situation is as serious as it gets.”
Chip narrowed his eyes on Tom, as if sizing up his credibility.
“How long have you been investigating this?” he asked.
“Not long,” Tom said, improvising quickly. “Investigations into the deaths obviously started at the time of each incident, but I didn’t make the connection to Jeri’s mysterious letter writer until the night you and I first met. Immediately after that, I sent a report to my connections at the CIA. It’s been a ‘highest priority’ investigation ever since.”
Chip nodded and took a long drink of his beer.
“And why are you telling me all this?”
Tom considered the question carefully. His answer would be critical in getting Chip to cooperate, but it was a delicate task. He needed to play heavily on the older man’s emotional attachment to Jeri, but not in a way that sounded dishonest or patronizing. He needed to be persuasive in his conviction, but not in a way that invited more questions about the details. In short, Tom thought morbidly, just as he’d done on that horrific night in Afghanistan, he again had to tell a perfect lie.