The Truth Factory by Cody McFadyen

Author:Cody McFadyen [McFadyen, Cody]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller & Suspense, Thriller, Smoky Barret, Crime, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9781939481412
Publisher: Liza Dawson Associates
Published: 2016-09-26T22:00:00+00:00

Part Three

Speech

Chapter Twelve

“This is the place?” I ask Kirby, staring up at the broad façade of the hotel as the ever-present crowds of the Vegas Strip swirl around us.

“Room 11343,” she answers.

“How did you find him?”

She grins. “After searching for weeks and coming up with nothing—and I mean no trace at all—I asked myself: If you were a really smart guy who wanted to hide but couldn’t break the law to do it, how would you go about it?” She snaps her fingers, engaged in a conversation with herself. “The answer: a personal favor. The problem is, James doesn’t have many friends.” She pauses. “Or any, to be honest. At least not that I could find, and I looked pretty darn hard.”

I sigh. “That’s . . . consistent.”

“No, that’s sad, but anyway—I still thought the idea was right. So I shifted from personal favors to professional ones, and then added in a little bit of smart. You’ve read his personnel files, right?”

“Sure. I reviewed them before I interviewed him. I got my position during a time the FBI was restructuring my unit. I got to handpick my team. That’s a rare wish to have granted, so I took my time looking around.”

“Restructuring.” Kirby snorts. “I know that code—it means ‘someone screwed up, and the powers that be needed heads on their spikes and blood in the hallways.’”

I smile faintly. “That’s fairly accurate. It wasn’t a full-on bloodbath, but there were some major holes created that no one had previously expected to exist for a long, long time.”

“Were they right?”

“Who?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know. The guys who usually get it wrong. The powers that be. Were they right about the need for, um, restructuring?”

“Strangely, yes. Rare, I know, but true.” I point a finger at the hotel. “Back on topic, please? I’m getting . . .” I hesitate and pluck briefly at the band on my wrist, feeling the panic begin to ride in from the distance. “I want to get inside,” I finish, lamely.

It’s not bad, not yet. I’m not really sweating or shaking yet. It’s more like a tremor in the ground that I can feel in the soles of my feet. Like wild horses or a herd of bison still blocked by the hills but coming my way.

“Can’t blame you,” Kirby chirps, smoothly ignoring the real issue and giving me my dignity again, something that’s become a habit. “It’s freaking chilly out here! Isn’t this city supposed to have been built in the middle of the desert?”

“It’s January, Kirby. And the desert’s known for getting cold at night.” I point to the hotel again. “James?”

“What division was he in for a few years, prior to the one he was in just before you grabbed him? Think, and it’ll come to you. It was exactly the kind of place you’d put a Mr. Smarty-pants like him.”

I frown, drawing a blank. Then it comes to me. “White-collar crimes. That’s how he got onto my radar, actually. His clearance rate was phenomenally high when he was in that division.

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