Day of Wrath

Deputy Assistant Director Lawrence Mcdowell poured himself another generous-sized drink from the bourbon bottle he kept in his bottom desk drawer. Some of it splashed out and puddled on the surface of his desk, staining the pages of the latest faxes from his overseas field offices reporting their continued failure to arrest that bitch Helen Gray and her Army boyfriend. He ignored the mess. Gray and Thorn were irrelevant now. They were stuck in Europe.

What mattered was that Heinrich Wolf, that slimy, blackmailing bastard, had finally screwed up. The sainted }. Edgar had always told his underlings that every crook always made at least one mistake. That it was just a matter of looking hard enough and waiting long enough. Well, Wolf had made his — and just in time, too.

For nearly three weeks, Mcdowell had been quietly sniffing around — trying to get a handle on just who the hell Heinrich Wolf was.

But every path he’d pursued had turned into a dead.

end. Secure Investments, the company the German first claimed to represent, didn’t exist — not even as a shell corporation. It was pure fiction. And none of the confidential files he’d asked the Berlin field office to pull on former Stasi agents had yielded any leads.

Despite all his efforts, Wolf remained a faceless ghost — a shadowy, commanding presence heard only over the phone.

Until now.

Mcdowell raised his glass to Hoover’s own ghost and swallowed the bourbon — reveling in the way it lit a smoky fire straight down his throat and straight up into his brain.

The pieces had finally started to fall into place yesterday — right after he learned that the Director had shut down the investigation into that Caraco-leased warehouse in Galveston. It hadn’t taken him too much poking and prying to find out why.

Mcdowell had been impressed — very impressed. Not every corporation’s top management had the kind of political clout needed to make both the White House and the FBI sit, roll over, and fetch. In his book, that made Caraco a power to be reckoned with — and a potential target for a little discreet brownnosing on his part. It was all a matter of doing your homework — of knowing exactly who to approach with an occasional background briefing on FBI operations that could affect Caraco’s various enterprises.

So he’d ordered his staff to assemble a dossier on the company and its highest-ranking people.

The dossier sitting open on his desk.

Mcdowell smiled nastily.

There it was in black-and-white — Wolf, Heinrich, Chief of Security, European Division. That smug son of a bitch hadn’t even bothered to use another cover identity when dealing with him. Well, that carelessness would cost the Stasi prick heavily.

What would his new bosses say if they knew they had an ex-German secret policeman running heroin using Caraco as a cover?

Mcdowell knew that he wasn’t out of the woods — not yet.

But at least now he had some leverage. If Wolf threatened him with exposure and ruin again, he could turn the threat against him. And, if need be, he could always shop the German bastard to the FBI’s counterintelligence section as part of a plea bargain.

He recapped the nearly empty bottle and slipped it back into the drawer. Have to remember to bring in a new one, he thought.

The bourbon wasn’t lasting as long as it once had.

The light on his phone flashed and he scooped it up. “Mcdowell.”

“This is Wolf.”

Mcdowell choked back a laugh. Speak of the devil … “Hello, Heinrich.”

“I have an assignment for you.”

Mcdowell shook his head. “Not sure I can help you, Heinrich.” He picked the Caraco dossier off his desk and spun around in his chair to face his office window. “Fact is, I’m thinking about retiring …”

“From the FBI?” Wolf’s voice hardened. “That would be a serious mistake, PEREGRINE. One with grave consequences.”

The FBI agent shrugged. “I don’t know about that, Heinrich.

Seems there are a lot of opportunities out there in the private sector right now.” He narrowed his eyes. “I could always apply at Caraco.

Seems to me they might need a new security chief for their European companies real soon. What do you think about that, Herr Wolf?” The German said nothing for several long seconds. Then he said slowly, “Are you attempting to renegotiate our arrangement, Mr. Mcdowell?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Mcdowell turned back to his desk. “My terms are pretty simple: You leave me alone — permanently. In return, I keep my mouth shut about your little extracurricular activities.

And everybody goes away happy.”.

“Your terms are unacceptable,” Wolf said grimly. “You overestimate the strength of your position, PEREGRINE.”

“Oh? How’s that?” Mcdowell asked, feeling doubts creep into his mind for the first time since he’d pinpointed the German’s current identity.

This conversation wasn’t going according to his plan.

“You may inconvenience me for a short while,” Wolf explained.