He disguised himself as Jonathan Foster, one of several identities for whom he had CIA credentials. Foster was a little younger than Teddy, but looked like a seasoned pro. Teddy checked his image in the mirror against the ID photo. It was close enough. He got in his car and drove into downtown L.A.
Teddy went to the police station and hunted up the detective in charge of the Ace Vargas case. He was lucky to find him in his office. Sergeant Marvin O’Reilly was a beefy middle-aged cop with a firm handshake.
“Oh, thank God,” Teddy said.
The sergeant frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“I was afraid I’d get some twenty-year-old kid who doesn’t know the ropes.”
O’Reilly almost smiled. “What’s this all about?”
Teddy whipped out his credentials. “Jonathan Foster, CIA. A matter has arisen with regard to the Ace Vargas case.”
The sergeant scowled.
Teddy put up his hands. “Don’t worry, we’re not taking over the investigation. I’m not here to step on your toes. We have one small matter, totally incidental to your case, and I’m here to see it stays that way.” He took a breath. “Now then, I can’t tell you much—this is all highly classified—but we have reason to believe that the fatal gun in the Ace Vargas case may have been used in one other unrelated homicide.”
“We don’t have the fatal gun in the Ace Vargas case.”
“No, but you’ve got the fatal bullet.”
O’Reilly frowned. “I can’t give you the fatal bullet.”
“No, but you can give me a ballistics photo. We can work from that. It’s not as accurate, but good enough for our purposes. We’re not trying to prove something in court.”
“You want the ballistics photo?”
“Surely you have copies.”
O’Reilly frowned. “I don’t know.”
“You’re in charge of the case, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You haven’t made an arrest yet, have you?”
“No,” O’Reilly said with an edge in his voice.
“Good.”
He frowned again. “Why do you say that?”
Teddy shrugged. “The minute you make an arrest, the assistant district attorney is in charge of the case. Those guys are assholes.”
Fifteen minutes later Teddy was out the door with a copy of the ballistics photo.
* * *
—
Teddy went home and logged into the CIA website. It took him fifteen minutes to get into the encrypted and encoded classified section. They kept changing the codes to keep him out. Of course, they had no idea when he got in, they just took the precaution as a matter of course.
This time Teddy wasn’t looking for any classified information, just the kind of info that wasn’t available to the general public. Like the names and locations of CIA agents around the globe.
Teddy was particularly concerned with the L.A. area. He had a feeling there might be a local office set up to monitor suspected terrorist activity on college campuses. There was indeed. It covered all of southern California and boasted a director, half a dozen in-house personnel, and seventeen field agents. Files were available on all.
Teddy chose Jaspar Billingham—young, eager, ambitious, one of two agents currently doubling as armorers and lab technicians. Reading between the lines, Teddy could tell Jaspar was eager to be out in the field.
While he was there, Teddy uploaded Jonathan Foster’s CIA file onto the website. An L.A. cop wouldn’t have been able to check Foster’s credentials on the CIA website, but a CIA agent would.
When he was done, Teddy took the gun from his safe and sealed it in a plastic evidence envelope. He took the ballistics photo of the bullet from the Ace Vargas murder and cut off anything that indicated what it was or where it came from. He put the gun and the photo in a briefcase and drove back downtown to the CIA headquarters.
Teddy was lucky in that the main office and the lab were in two separate buildings. He went up to the lab and rang the bell. The door was opened by the young agent he’d seen on the website. Jaspar Billingham was casually dressed and gave the impression of a backroom employee working hard.
“I think you have the wrong address,” he said.
“I think not,” Teddy said, and flipped open his CIA credentials.
Jaspar let him in and locked the door.
“Would you mind if I took another look at your credentials?” he said.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. Check me out thoroughly so we don’t have to talk at arm’s length.”
Jaspar went to the computer and scanned Jonathan Foster’s credentials into the machine. Moments later his CIA file popped up. Everything checked out.
Jaspar handed the credentials back. “You’re from D.C.?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you out here?”
“We have a delicate situation and need your assistance with some local information. We don’t want it to appear that Washington is interested.”
“Really?” Jaspar said.
Teddy could tell it was killing him not to ask why. “I need you to run some tests without informing your superiors. For the basis of this assignment, I am your superior. I don’t want you to speculate on what you are being asked to do, I just want you to do it. If you do, it will be noted and remembered by the higher-ups. How equipped is your lab?”
“I would say adequately.”
“Do you have a comparison microscope?”
“We do.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Teddy snapped open his briefcase. He took out the evidence bag with the gun and handed it to Jaspar. “Take this gun. I want you to fire a test bullet from it, and compare it to another bullet. I can’t get you that bullet, but I have an evidence photo of it.” Teddy handed the photo over. “Can you compare it to the bullet in this photo and tell me if it was fired from the same gun?”
“Yes.”
“Good. How fast can you do it?”
Jaspar considered. “I’m not set up to fire the bullet here. By tonight?”
Teddy nodded. “Just so no one knows you’re doing it.”
“I understand,” Jaspar said.
“Good man,” Teddy said.
Jonathan Foster had done a full morning’s work. Teddy went home and changed back into Mark Weldon.