The Agency Read online

  “It’s in case I’m searched. It’s a rare pat down that includes groping the subject’s genital area, unless they go for a complete strip down,” Kip replied. “The bug has a six to seven day life before it needs recharging, so it’s already running.”

  John took the receiver from the kit, turning it on. “The battery for this has the same life span, in case of emergencies,” he said, putting the ear plug in his ear and the recording pack in his pocket. “Now talk, please.” They did, both normally and then softly. “We’re good,” John told them when the test was finished.

  “What’s the range?” Mitch asked.

  “Optimal is fifteen hundred yards. Inside a building like this one, up to three hundred yards, which is more than enough,” Kip replied.

  “What if they manage to get their hands on you?”

  “It’s got a built-in GPS.”

  “Then I guess you’ll be all right no matter what.”

  Kip smiled dryly. “I sure hope so.”

  Mitch took him to one of the jail cells. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for now,” he said. “I wouldn’t even put you in here, but letting you wander around town, or even in here, when you’re supposedly under arrest, might raise a few eyebrows.”

  “Probably.” Kip settled on the bunk, already feeling claustrophobic despite the fact he knew he could leave—at least for the moment.

  “You okay?” John asked, sitting next to him.

  “Yeah, for now. When he has to lock me in…?” He shrugged.

  “Not big on confined spaces?” John rubbed Kip’s shoulder.

  “Not when I can’t leave them. I can handle elevators, unless they break down. Then it’s panic time. Thankfully that’s only happened once. The fireman who rescued me got it and had me walk and breathe until I’d calmed down.” He looked at the bars. “At least here I can see something besides four gray walls, which will help.”

  Mitch disappeared at that point. While he was gone, John took a pistol from his waistband, sliding it under the pillow on Kip’s bunk. Since they’d decided Kip had better have a weapon, just in case, he nodded his thanks. Mitch came back a few minutes later with a small TV that he set on the table bolted to one wall. “This should take your mind off things,” he said before leaving again.

  “Not to be repetitive, but now we wait,” John said, turning on the TV. When Kip patted the space next to him, John sat, wrapping an arm around Kip. He grinned. “The vest adds a certain something to holding you—or not.” They watched a late afternoon show neither of them cared about. As they did, John felt Kip’s tension ease. “Now if we were at the agency,” he said, winking at Kip.

  “We’d still be working. Probably on background checks to wrap up the day.”

  “You mean I would, while you…design someone’s security set-up to get out of them.”

  Kip cocked an eyebrow. “You figured that out, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then we’d close for the day and go grab something to eat at…Yeah. We haven’t tried the Italian restaurant yet.”

  “We will as soon as we get back,” John promised.

  Kip prayed that would happen. First, I have to survive this.

  * * * *

  Mitch came into the cell at five, switching the channel to Walt’s station. The top story was Kip’s interview with Mitch.

  “I look like some desperado,” Kip grumbled.

  “Naw. You look good,” John replied. “Tense, and wary, but that’s it. It works.”

  “Walt called to say he’d already emailed the video to his friend at the station in Grand Junction,” Mitch told them. “Let’s see if it makes tonight’s news.” He switched the channel. At first they figured it hadn’t, since the anchorman was in the middle of a political story out of Washington. That was followed by local Grand Junction news and the weather.

  “Next, sports, which I can do without,” Kip groused.

  He was wrong. As soon as the weather was over, the anchor came back on screen. “We have a breaking story involving a cold case from eleven years ago. A witness to the murder of Stephen Constantine, whose body was found buried in the mountains outside of Elderon, has come forward. This is what he had to say.” The image changed to Kip’s interview. When it finished, the anchor said, “Mr. Faulkner is being held in Elderon’s town jail until police officers arrive sometime tomorrow to take him to Denver where he’ll face charges of obstruction of justice in last month’s murder of one Zachary Alexander.”

  “And that does it,” Kip said when the anchor moved on to the sports. “Let’s hope the right people or person saw the show and they relay the information to whoever would like my head on a platter.”

  “A rather clichéd way to put it, but yeah…” John replied, giving him a hug.

  “I was thinking,” Mitch said. “We’re worried the story won’t make it to the national news, but maybe it doesn’t matter. Constantine worked in Grand Junction, meaning the mob, or whoever it is, has ties there. My bet is, one of their people will see or hear about the story and make a phone call.”

  John nodded. “Something which never occurred to us. If you’re right, that’ll speed things up. Are your deputies prepared?”

  “Yep. They’ll be watching the back and front doors and let me know if they see anyone suspicious.”

  “While you and John wait in here to stop them,” Kip said.

  “That’s the plan.” John chuckled. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic since I have a feeling the only place to hide is in the storage closet.”

  “Nope. The restroom will work,” Mitch said. “It’s right over there.” He pointed to a door marked ‘Lavatory’ directly across from the cell. “Even if everything falls into place fast, we still have some time, since it takes at least half an hour to get here from Grand Junction, and you two haven’t eaten. I’ll be right back.”

  Kip began pacing the cell as soon as Mitch left. He needed to, in an attempt to unwind. His stress had ramped up when he saw his interview the first time from Walt’s station. By the time it played again, out of Grand Junction, he was close to exploding from the tension he was feeling—even though he was doing his best not to let Mitch and John know. When he got to the bars on the door, he gripped them tightly, trying to calm his nerves.

  He let out a gasp when he felt arms wrap around him, struggling to get free.

  “Hey, hey, it’s me,” John said, quickly letting go and stepping away. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Kip turned and saw dismay as well as compassion in John’s eyes. “It’s okay. I’m just a bit edgy.”

  “A bit?” John held out his arms and Kip went into them. “You’re going to be fine. In a week we’ll be telling all our friends about our big adventure.”

  “What friends? Even if I had any I’d want to tell, I might be sitting in jail down in Denver. The cops there aren’t going to be very happy with me.”

  “They won’t do anything if this leads to the big boss.”

  “Promise?” Kip asked with a small smile.

  “As much as I can, I do.” John rubbed the ball of his thumb over Kip’s lips then kissed them. “Keep the faith. Okay?”

  “I’m trying to.”

  They heard the front door open. John instantly pushed Kip behind him while pulling his gun from its MOB holster.

  “Easy there,” Mitch said as he came into view, carrying a tray with two covered plates and carry-away cups. He set it down next to the TV on the table. “Dinner is served.”

  “Nothing for you?” Kip asked.

  “I’m going back to the diner. Milly has mine waiting.” From the smile on his face, Kip got the impression Milly was more to him than just a waitress—not that he said anything.

  Mitch took off again as John lifted the covers off the plates. “Want to guess what we’re having?”

  “Meatloaf. I can smell it. It’s making me hungry, which honestly I wasn’t until right now.”

  “Then let’s eat,” John said. He handed Kip h
is plate when he’d settled on the bunk, and then got the other one and their coffees before joining him.

  “This is good,” Kip said after taking a couple of bites.

  John nodded since he was basically inhaling his food between sips of coffee. When he finished, he looked at Kip’s plate. “I thought you were hungry?”

  “I was, until I wondered if this was going to be my last meal.”

  “Kip…” John set their plates on the floor then took Kip’s hands. “What did I say about keeping the faith?”

  “That I’d better,” Kip replied ruefully. He shook his head. “I shouldn’t be so uptight, damn it. I’m a trained investigator who’s had his fair share of run-ins with people who weren’t happy I caught them doing things they shouldn’t.”

  “Remember that. It’ll help.” John leaned in to give Kip a kiss.

  “I hate to break up this tender moment,” Mitch said from the hallway, “but we’d better get ready.”

  “Meaning I get bathroom duty. It reminds me of when I was a hall monitor in high school,” John replied. “Oh, so many years ago.”

  That got a smile from Kip, which he knew John was going for. Despite Mitch standing there, he kissed John before watching him leave and go into the lavatory. Mitch took a moment to pat Kip’s shoulder, telling him that with luck this would be over before morning. Then he picked up the dirty dishes, putting them on the tray, and locked the cell door as he left. “I’ll be back as soon as I return these to the diner and check in with my deputies.”

  Kip nodded, watching him disappear down the hallway. Going to the TV, he switched through the channels, trying to find something to watch to kill time. When he came to one selling a video retrospective of sixties music, with clips from the songs, he decided it was innocuous enough it might relax him. He settled in the bunk, trying to get comfortable which was difficult since he was wearing the tac vest.

  Listening to the music did help, although his gaze kept going to the lavatory door as he wondered if John was going crazy with nothing to do but listen for anything that said someone had made it into the jail, and his cell. He knew from personal experience how boring a stakeout could be and that was exactly what John was doing. At least he doesn’t have to use a piss jar, given where he is. Much to his surprise that thought amused him. I guess I am relaxing…at least somewhat.

  Time passed slowly, the channel he was watching moving from the pitch for the sixties album to one for seventies music. The building was silent except for the sound of an occasional car passing by outside. He closed his eyes, remembering the last time he and John had gone riding—when John had taught him how to drive the bike.

  * * * *

  Kip jerked awake when someone put their hand over his mouth.

  “One word, one sound out of you and we kill you now,” a rough voice said.

  Kip felt something sharp pressing against his throat and knew the man was holding a knife. He was also wearing a ski mask, as was the second man who stood at the open cell door.

  Kip barely nodded as he tried to surreptitiously slide one hand under the pillow.

  “Looking for this?” The man held up Kip’s gun, pointing it at him.

  If that doesn’t clue him in this is a set-up…

  Apparently it didn’t, because the man pocketed the gun then gripped Kip’s arm, jerking him to his feet. Twisting him around, the man pulled Kip tightly to his chest and wrapped one arm around him, the point of the knife in his other hand pressing against Kip’s throat. “We’re going to walk out the back door to our car. Then we’re going on a trip. We have a friend who wants to have a few words with you.”

  “The man who…?” Kip shut up when his captor drew the blade of the knife across his throat. He felt a sharp pain and then dampness as the cut started bleeding. He also saw what neither of the men did—the lavatory door opening a bare inch.

  Despite his fear, and he was very afraid, Kip’s training kicked in. He slammed his head back, hearing a satisfying crack followed by the man’s cry of pain as his nose broke. Kip took advantage of that to push one hand between them, grabbing the man’s genitals. He squeezed hard just as a shot rang out. He felt the bullet hit the vest and knew in some part of his mind he’d have a hell of a bruise come morning.

  The second man didn’t get a chance to fire again. John was behind him, his gun pressed to the man’s back as he said, “One move and I shoot.”

  Seconds later Mitch was there, his gun pointed at the man who had been holding Kip—who was now doubled over in pain, his hands over his groin.

  “Took you long enough,” Kip muttered, collapsing on the bed.

  “Twenty seconds by my count,” John replied, catching the handcuffs Mitch tossed him. He cuffed his prisoner, while Mitch did the same to the second man, before removing their masks.

  Kip took one look at the man who had attacked him and said, “He’s the other guy who was with Parker when they killed Constantine.”

  “If we’d caught up with you then, we’d have buried you with him,” the man growled before his companion told him to shut up.

  Mitch opened the doors to the other two cells and he and John put one man in each of them, after searching them for more weapons and taking their cell phones.

  John came back, kneeling in front of Kip. “You’re bleeding, damn it.”

  “I wish they’d said more,” Kip replied distractedly as John asked Mitch if he had a first aid kit.

  “They said and did enough, especially at the end, to warrant arresting them,” John told him, while Mitch walked away, returning a moment later with the kit. John cleaned and bandaged the gash on Kip’s throat, deeming it just that, “A gash and not life-threatening, although I’m still taking you to the hospital.” He looked up at Mitch. “If there is one.”

  “There’s a clinic.”

  “That’ll work.”

  Mitch told him where it was, one block over at the end of the street. “I’m going to stay here and go over their car,” he said. “With any sort of luck there might be something in it that will help us find out who they’re working for. I’m also calling the Feds and the Denver police to let them know we have them.”

  “Just what I need,” Kip muttered as John helped him get up and then take off the tactical vest.

  “You’re going to be black and blue,” John said, gently touching the already blossoming bruise on Kip’s chest. “Let’s get to the clinic so they can check to make certain no bones were broken or cracked.”

  Since the clinic was close, they walked with John’s arm around Kip to make certain he didn’t collapse before they got there. Apparently Mitch had called ahead because when they walked through the doorway a nurse hurried over to take Kip into one of the exam rooms. “We heard a gun fire,” she informed them as she helped Kip onto the table.

  “You’re kidding,” John said.

  She shook her head. “It’s a small town and real quiet at this hour. Sound carries.”

  “We figured we might be seeing someone,” the doctor said as he came into the room. “So we were prepared even before the sheriff called.”

  He put on latex gloves then checked Kip over, telling him nothing was broken thanks to the vest he’d been wearing. “Whoever cleaned the cut on your throat did a good job,” he said after removing the bandage. He covered the cut with antiseptic ointment then re-bandaged it, gave Kip an antibiotic shot, and wrote out a prescription for amoxicillin. “Take the pills until they’re gone,” he told him.

  “I’ll make sure he does,” John said, winking at Kip.

  The doctor gave him an uneasy look, but made no comment. Kip had the feeling he wasn’t used to dealing with gays, which didn’t surprise him considering how small Elderon was. At least he didn’t lecture us, which is a plus.

  When they returned to the sheriff’s office, Mitch told them Detective Ingles from the Denver police and a couple of federal agents would be arriving in the morning. “The detective told me not to touch the perps’ car. He’ll have it
towed back to Denver and let his people go over it. The same with their cell phones.”

  “They’re towing them?” Kip asked, feeling giddy now that their plan had worked and Mitch had Constantine’s second killer in custody.

  “Someone needs to get some sleep,” John replied with a laugh. “Is there a hotel in town, Mitch?”

  “We have a guest house. Let me call Ms. Granger to see if she’d got any rooms available. By the way, the deputy I had stationed out back? He said he heard a window breaking and went to investigate. Best guess one of the punks did that to distract him so they could get inside. He’s real apologetic about being fooled.”

  “Shit happens,” John said dryly.

  Ms. Granger did have some rooms available, and ten minutes later, after getting their bags from Kip’s car, she was showing them two small ones next door to each other with a shared bathroom separating them. “Not exactly the Ritz-Carlton,” she demurred, “but they’re clean and you get breakfast as part of the package.”

  By the time he’d taken off his clothes, tossing the bloody shirt in the wastebasket, and putting the bug in his bag, Kip was so tired all he wanted to do was fall into bed. He knew he should shower but didn’t have the energy to do more than wash up and brush his teeth. He’d barely crawled into bed, wearing only a clean pair of briefs, when there was a knock on the door.

  “It’s unlocked,” he called out.

  “It shouldn’t be,” John retorted as he came into the room.

  “Yeah, yeah. Shoot me,” Kip replied tiredly.

  John smiled, coming over to sit on the side of the bed. “Someone tried to already. It didn’t take, thank God.” He looked at Kip, his eyes darkening with emotion. “If it wasn’t for the vest, and the fact they planned on keeping you alive until they took you wherever…”

  “I had you to protect me,” Kip replied, touching John’s cheek. “If I wasn’t so tired, and was in better shape, I’d show you how much that means to me.”

  “Are you trying to bribe me?” John asked, brushing a kiss over Kip’s lips.