The Council House (The Impoverished Book 3) Page 9

  The church bells began to chime, and then it hit her. Mass must be starting. She had no idea weekday morning mass drew such a crowd. But things had changed. Tomorrow marked a week since the attacks, and people were different. More intense, sincere, and emotional. More real. Maybe they just needed a little comfort, and courage, before travelling into the city. She could use some herself. She took a deep breath and followed them inside.

  She dipped her hand in the holy water font and blessed the baby and then herself. A warmth spread across her chest. She sighed. She hadn’t known that she needed to be here this morning, but clearly she did. For at least a few minutes.

  Saturday night’s meeting with Dewer Rock had left her with a spooky feeling. She didn’t understand what it meant, but she hadn’t been able to shake it all weekend. She wouldn’t run into him this morning. She’d stay outside the Council House, but the thought of being near him again gave her the willies.

  Some soul fortification couldn’t hurt.

  Mass was brief. She stayed until it was over and then rode the subway into Manhattan.

  Mel had planned this day trip yesterday morning after a call with Lieutenant Jordan to notify him about her return to full-duty status. She couldn’t wait to get back on the work roster, but when he checked the command log and read her return date: Wednesday, September 19, 1600 hours, she nearly dropped the phone. She had already worked Saturday night. She’d just rip up her overtime slip and he’d never know. Even so, she was stuck sitting on her hands for another two days.

  No way would she do nothing. Not while ground zero was still smoldering. Every time she stepped outside her apartment building a stench blew in from Manhattan. She had to do something to help. Even though she was still technically on maternity leave, she could do some unofficial prep work for an investigation.

  After Eva had shown her the work the Council really did, and after meeting the Council’s chairman—she shivered—she knew exactly where to start.

  Suspecting the Council’s involvement with the attacks was one thing; proving it, quite another. Based on Dewer Rock’s bizarre reaction Saturday night, Mel knew he was involved. She wouldn’t stop until she found proof. The sooner she started, the better. Who knew what else he was up to? She exhaled. As if last Tuesday hadn’t been horrible enough.

  Although the Council operated from the prestigious Council House in Manhattan and not a cave complex in Afghanistan, it committed terrorist acts just the same. She’d treat the think tank like a terrorist organization. And because its headquarters was just a subway ride away, she wouldn’t have to rely on watered-down intel from the CIA. She’d identify the players herself, starting today. Then she’d be closer to the truth. Of course she’d risk bias in interpreting the raw intelligence, but she could hold true to objective standards, for sure. She couldn’t say the same for the CIA.

  The investigation couldn’t wait until she was officially on the work roster; it couldn’t wait a day! She would identify subjects today and conduct background checks on Wednesday.

  Fifty minutes later, the train reached Union Square, and Mel transferred to an uptown 6 train. She could barely squeeze the stroller on board, and rush hour hadn’t even peaked yet. She thought of Eva making this commute every day.

  Eva’s safety was another good reason to begin the investigation today. Mel had developed premature gray strands in her dark-brown hair worrying about Richie when he worked deep undercover. Now she was old enough for permanent grays. No thanks. When the investigation became official, she’d create an intelligence stream separate from Eva’s source. She’d keep Eva’s role as a confidential informant secret as long as possible. No reason to put her further at risk.

  The train screeched into the Sixty-Eighth Street station, and Mel steered the stroller out the doors. She lugged it up the subway stairs and strolled by the Council House. From outside it looked impressive, an upscale brick building with an ornate metal front door and high windows. Anyone in the world would be proud to have its address printed on his or her business card. The people that worked there couldn’t possible know its true nature. After all, Eva had just discovered it herself, and she’d been working there for five years!

  Mel cringed, knowing Eva would step inside to start her workday soon. She’ll be safe for a few more weeks, surely. If Eva hadn’t uncovered any actionable intel by then, Mel would insist she resign.

  * * *

  Eva groaned when the train reached her stop. She hadn’t been able to get those awful reports out of her mind all weekend. And now she was just a short walk away from the Council House.

  She hesitated when she reached the main entrance. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. I can walk away and go back home. Suddenly, the knob rotated under her hand. The door opened wide and she gasped.

  Eva looked up at Martin’s smiling face, but his expression changed into one of concern. “I’m sorry, Eva. I saw you approach through the glass. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He held the door open. “Come in.”

  “Don’t mind me. I startle easy.” She tried to smile. This place couldn’t be that bad if someone as kind as Martin was in charge of security. “Are you leaving already?”

  He shook his head and straightened his tie. “Mr. Rock is upstairs running an early meeting. He wants me out front while his VIPs arrive.”

  “Then you should look your best,” she said, standing on her tiptoes and brushing lint from his shoulder. “All good.”

  He smiled and stepped outside.

  When Martin left, so did her nerve. She stifled a shiver and crossed the lobby. Once I find proof of what the Council has done, I’ll never cross this threshold again.

  * * *

  After jogging a fast-paced half a mile and feeling flushed enough to pass for a jogging mom, Mel slowed to a stop. She leaned on the gray rock wall surrounding Central Park to stretch her calves and catch her breath. Wiping her forehead with her sweatshirt sleeve, Mel knelt and peeked at the baby resting in the stroller. Since she was off duty, and in no danger, Mel was totally comfortable bringing Hope on an unofficial surveillance. Plus, no one would look at her twice while she was pushing a jogging stroller near Central Park.

  She could tell that the baby enjoyed riding over the hills, but Mel had cut the run short. She didn’t want to miss the Council’s employees and visitors reporting for work or meetings. After all, the whole purpose for this trip into the city was to build a subject list, not to workout. She smiled at Hope and tucked her feet back under a thin blanket. Mel reached in the stroller’s pouch for a digital camera.

  Slipping the camera under her sleeve, Mel walked back toward the Council House. She slapped on a runner’s cap and sunglasses, crossed to the north side of the street, and stopped across from the main entrance of the building. Crouching over Hope’s stroller, Mel fussed with the blanket, and glanced at the doorway. She shook her arm and the digital camera slid into her palm. She was just in time to snap about fifteen shots of men approaching the huge double doors. She tucked Hope’s pink blanket under her feet and hid the camera again. The first round had been easy. Now, round two. She continued strolling down the block.

  By the time Mel finished circling the block, she’d tossed her sunglasses and hat into the diaper bag, untied her ponytail, and changed into a baggy gray sweat shirt, and she’d traded Hope’s pink blanket for a white one. She leaned over the baby and once more began snapping photographs of business-suited men entering the Council House. After a minute, she tucked the camera away and grinned. She had taken some good face shots. She and Richie would have a lot to work with on Wednesday.

  Once we ID the people in these photos, we’ll be well on our way! A great start to discover who was involved. She’d follow the trail to the end.

  Mel zoomed to the subway station, and slowed to roll Hope’s stroller down the steep stairs. Halfway down, she missed a step. The stroller tipped and her heart thumped.

  A tan, masculine hand reached out
and grabbed the bottom of the stroller.

  “I have a good grip on the footrest.” A Spanish accent echoed off the tiled walls. “Hold the handle with both hands.”

  When they reached the bottom landing, the stranger eased the stroller to the platform. “She is fine, see . . .” He looked down at the baby and smiled. “Not a hair out of place.”

  “Thank you.” Mel caught her breath and checked the baby’s harness straps.

  The man waved at a now awake and giggling Hope, who must have thought the bumpy ride had been a game. Mel held out her hand and thanked him again.

  The silver-haired man shook it. “Glad to help.” He smiled at the baby and his brown eyes sparkled.

  Did those boyish, glittering eyes really belong to a sixty-something-year old man? Mel couldn’t help but smile.

  The train blew into the station and the doors swished open. The man held them open while she wheeled the stroller into the car. Mel lowered the brake and sat.

  The man waved his hand at the space next to her and bowed his head.

  Mel nodded and smiled again. A gentleman, too, requesting permission to sit next to her. She was intrigued.

  He sat and looked at her, a grin spread across his face. “It is not every day that a jogging mother takes pictures of the devil’s lair.”

  “You saw me?” She felt her jaw drop. And he knew the Council House wasn’t what it seemed!

  He laughed and pulled a small digital camera from a pocket in his windbreaker.

  Mel stared at the camera, so similar to hers. He had been surveilling the Council House too. She shook her head. He looked sharp and fit, but he was definitely over retirement age. “What agency are you with?”

  He chuckled, and those clear eyes twinkled. “You are NYPD, right?”

  “How do you know?” She frowned. Had I been that obvious?

  “JTTF?” He patted a finger against his lips. “No, no, not Joint Terrorism. The Intelligence Division, right?”

  I really need to work on my undercover tactics. “How—”

  “Years of experience, my dear. And a free mind.” He tapped his temple and pointed at her. “Like yours.”

  Mel studied him. Strength and sincerity radiated from his face. She took a deep breath; she trusted him. “Mel Ronzone. I’m a detective with Intel’s Terrorist Interdiction Unit.”

  He stashed away his camera and clapped his hands. “I’m an independent intelligence researcher and analyst, and I’m at your service, Detective.”

  She plopped her head against the plastic seat back and chuckled. An ally from the most unexpected place. “Why were you watching the Council House?”

  The subway car slowed and the man stood. “This is my stop.”

  Mel raised an eyebrow. “You’re crossing over and taking the next train back uptown, aren’t you?”

  The doors opened and he grinned. “Keep looking for the truth.”

  He disappeared onto the crowded platform.

  Chapter 21

  Two hours after lunch, Eva had completed all her daily work. Now she could search the computer files for incriminating studies. She rubbed her eyes and rolled her shoulders. The words on the monitor looked like they were in Chinese, one of the few languages that she wasn’t fluent in. Caffeine! That’s what she needed.

  She fixed herself a cup of tea, sat back down at her desk, took a sip and clicked the common drive. She groaned. There were thousands of studies to go through. She estimated a hundred a day was a safe number to browse without drawing attention. As a project case manager, she was allowed to read all studies completed in-house, and was encouraged to make comments and suggestions.

  The only documents above her clearance level were on Mr. Rock’s personal drive, the R-drive. She’d figure out his password later on. She scrolled through the index pages and whistled—plenty of studies to search, for now. She clicked back to the first page and began browsing file names.

  Leaning back in her chair, she massaged her neck, digesting how different the project titles appeared now, with her change in perspective. Now that she understood the Council’s real purpose, she realized the studies were how-to manuals instead of international policy recommendations. Searching file names with her new frame of mind would help her identify studies needing a closer look. A lump grew in her throat as a blueprint for corporatism emerged.

  She took another sip of tea and tried to relax. She could do this. She could help Richie and Mel. If she found incriminating studies today she could leave this place for good. But there were so many to go through. She gulped the last of the tea, blinked a few times, and focused on the monitor.

  Eva opened the Threat Assessment Department’s subfolder and browsed the first index page. She doubled back to a file name in the second column and read the title again: Effective Explosives. Her heart skipped a beat. She took a breath before once again fixing her eyes on the screen. She hovered the cursor over the file name and it expanded. Effective Explosives for High-rise Controlled Demolition. Oh my! She held her breath for a second and popped her head above her monitor. All the desks in the shared office were empty. The fellows and analysts had all gone home for the day. She bit her lip and clicked.

  The study listed various explosives and identified thermite as the most effective incendiary to control the collapse of a skyscraper; thermite burned so hot that it melted iron quickly. Nothing else would do the trick. And it was easily applied as a liquid, and once dried, would not combust until detonators were ignited. Once one detonator went off, each detonator ignited in a chain reaction. The thermite would burn immediately, slicing whatever structure it had been applied to. If applied to supporting columns and detonated within seconds, floor by floor, the skyscraper would collapse within its own footprint. She swallowed and her heart beat fast.

  That was exactly what had happened to the twin towers and Building 7. The glimmer of hope remaining in the bottom of her heart—perhaps the Council had altruistic reasons for conducting the horrific study?—was extinguished when she read the study’s start date: March 1, 1993. Mr. Rock had ordered this study immediately after the truck bomb planted under the twin towers failed to topple the buildings. He must have orchestrated the first attack too! And since a fertilizer bomb didn’t work that first time, he needed something stronger. She checked the study’s completion date: May 28, 1999. Two years’ prep time made sense if he was determined not to fail again. She heard a clicking noise coming from her desk and looked down. Her own fingernails were trembling against the keyboard!

  “Eva.”

  She gasped and looked up. Martin was standing in the doorway. She slowly exhaled.

  “I startled you again. Sorry.” He buttoned his suit jacket. “It’s time to lock up.”

  “I’ll just be a minute.” She pointed at her screen. “Have to shut down.”

  He nodded and walked down the hallway.

  She stared at the monitor and licked her lips. This study was too important—she needed a copy. She inhaled and clicked Print. By the time she powered down and grabbed her bag, the laser printer spat out all fifty pages. She rolled her eyes. Nothing but the best equipment for the Council. She shoved the papers in her bag, breaking protocol. All paper removed from the Council House required a log entry and the chairman’s initials. She glanced over her shoulder, straightened her back, and joined Martin in the lobby.

  Chapter 22

  Mel had just put the baby down for the night. She stepped over Boxer and patted his head. The dog had settled smack in the middle of the bedroom doorway, his new favorite spot. He didn’t have to choose between guarding Mel in the living room or the baby in the bedroom. He had found a place to watch over them both.

  She sighed; he had adjusted to the baby like a protective big brother, not at all like a rival. Yet, Mel felt guilty. She didn’t have time for him like she used to, before Hope was born. She thought about sitting next to him and petting his belly, but she was anxious to read the report Eva had dropped off an hour ago. Her friend had bee
n pretty upset, but Hope had been hungry and crying.

  “Take care of the baby,” she’d said, tossing a thick stack of paper on the coffee table. “Read it as soon as she settles down, though. It’s important.”

  Now she had the chance. Mel changed into a T-shirt and jumped onto the sofa. She picked up the study and curled the edges as she read. It was all about applying the best explosive to demolish a high-rise building. The study concluded that thermite was the best choice. She got up to phone Dad. He’d understand the technicalities.

  Just then Boxer came into the room, tail stub wagging. He headed straight for the apartment door.

  Mark! She got up and flung the door open. Her husband stood there with his keys out.

  “I’m happy to see you too, hon,” he said with a smile and reached down to kiss her.

  “Mark, you have to read this.” She held out the thermite study clutched in her hand.

  He danced her inside, kicking the door closed behind them.

  “You have to read them,” she said handing him the papers. “You won’t believe your eyes.”

  Tossing them on the coffee table, he sat on the sofa, and looked up at her. “I like what my eyes are seeing right now.”

  She leaned over to retrieve the report, but Mark pulled her onto his lap and peeled off her shirt. The touch of his hands on her bare skin made her forget all about the study.

  Twenty minutes later, Mark reached over her and grabbed the papers from the coffee table. “So what did you want me to read?”

  “Read?” She nuzzled his neck. “Oh, right. The study.” Her contented mood vanished. She leaned against his chest to read along with him. He began flipping pages with so much force that they tore, and she wiggled out of the danger zone.

  She slipped her T-shirt over her head and was rummaging through the sofa cushions for her panties when he gripped her upper arms and turned her to face him. “Do you know what this means?”