Vince Flynn - Consent To Kill

He cinched up his tie, adjusted his sunglasses, and entered.

The kid behind the counter looked up at him and smiled. "What's up?"

"I need to get a phone for my teenage daughter."

"All right. Do you have a preference…Motorola…Nokia…"

Gould shook his head.

"Does she need a camera?" the young man asked.

"I suppose."

"How many minutes a month are you willing to get her?"

Gould thought about it. He'd probably put five or ten minutes on the thing at the most, and then he'd chuck it. "It's mostly for emergencies, so probably one of the smaller plans."

"Are you already a customer?"

"No."

"Do you want to be? We've got some great friends and family plans."

Gould shook his head. "I'm under a government contract."

"Okay." The young man reached under the glass and grabbed one of the phones. "I'd put you into this one right here. It's got a two-mega pixel camera, she can download ringtones and…"

The clerk went on and on about the phone's features, but Gould had already stopped listening. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a credit card. "How much?"

"It's twenty-four ninety-five a month plus tax and fees, and if you sign a one-year contract, the phone is free."

"Can you bill it automatically to my credit card?"

"Absolutely."

"I'll take it."

Gould left the store with the phone in his pocket and a block later he chucked the bag and packaging in a garbage can. He turned down 18th Street and started working his way back to the White House. He had a good idea where to start his search. He'd studied a map and earlier in the morning, before Claudia got sick, he'd checked out the immediate area around the White House. The street that ran along the west side of the White House was West Executive Drive. It was blocked off at both ends by a heavy gate and manned by the Secret Service. There were a limited number of spaces, probably reserved for people who worked directly for the president. Gould checked the area anyway and did not see any BMWs. This did not deter him. Convenience and logic were on his side. Rapp's wife got to work early, which meant she would have her pick of garages and at the same time, she would not want to walk far.

The first ramp on his list was just off the corner of 17th and H. An attendant dressed in black pants and a red windbreaker stood at the top of the underground entrance next to a sign that announced how much it cost per hour and for the day. Gould walked right up to the guy and fished out his new credentials. He held them in his left hand to the side of his face like he did it countless times every week.

"I'm Agent Johnson with the IRS." Gould snapped shut the case and continued, "You guys park any blue BMWs this morning?"

The attendant shrugged and looked down the concrete ramp to one of his coworkers. The two spoke briefly in a language Gould did not understand. The other man hustled up the ramp.

"You are looking for a blue BMW?"

Gould guessed the man was probably Somalian. "Yeah. Series Five. Do you know which make that is?"

The man nodded. "I parked a silver one thirty minutes ago, but no blue ones." The man studied him warily. "What is this about?"

"I'm investigating a tax cheat who works in the area. We're looking to seize her vehicle." Gould had taken the story right from the IRS's Web site.

"Is there a reward?" the first man asked.

"Hundred bucks."

"How do we get ahold of you?"

"I'll be back by before lunch. Anyone else parking cars with you guys this morning?"

"No."

"Any chance you missed a blue BMW?"

Both men shook their heads confidently.

"All right. Thanks for your time. I'll see you later."

The next garage went pretty much the same except there were three attendants. One of them couldn't remember if he'd parked a blue or black BMW, but that it had been about an hour ago. Man or woman, Gould asked him. The attendant said it was a man. Gould thanked them for their time and told them he might be back later. The third garage was the one that he thought she'd probably used and he was right. This time he didn't ask about a specific car. He just flashed his credentials and told them he needed to look for a vehicle that might be involved in an investigation. They asked if they could help, and he politely told them no. Gould descended into the concrete cavern and found a blue BMW Series Five on the first level. He looked around, a bit surprised to see that there were no surveillance cameras until he realized customers weren't allowed down here. The attendants met people on the sidewalk and parked their cars for them. Gould knew luck was shining on him when he spied the keys in the ignition of the car.

He went and stood by another car in case one of the attendants showed up, and pulled out the new cell phone. From memory he punched in a number. Two rings later a woman answered.

"Comm Center."

"This is Detective Johnson from Five D," Gould said in a tired voice. "I need a 1028 on District plate echo, echo, foxtrot, one, eight, three."

Police departments were the same the world over. The woman sitting at the Communications Center for the Metropolitan Police Department was supposed to ask for his badge number, but she didn't because she was overworked and underpaid and the guy on the phone sounded like all of the other cops who called her hundreds of times each day to access the Washington Area Law Enforcement System. The database they all referred to as WALS.

"The vehicle is registered to an Anna Rielly."

"BMW Series Five?"

"Yep."

"Do you have a 1029 filed on the car?"

"Nope."

"Okay…thanks." Gould closed the phone and put it back in his pocket.

He walked slowly back to the ramp and checked on the attendants. Both men were standing at the top talking. As Gould hustled back to the car he put on a pair of latex gloves. He opened the driver's door and fished the smallest device from his pocket. There was a thin plastic film on the back of the miniature listening device. Gould peeled it off exposing a tacky adhesive surface. He stuck the device under the dashboard and hit the trunk release button. Gould slid a blanket and a shopping bag to the side and pulled the small lever that opened the compartment where the spare tire was kept. He checked to make sure both of the larger devices were working and then placed them in the well of the compartment. He closed the door carefully and put the shopping bag and blanket back where he'd found them, before closing the trunk. The gloves came off with a snap, and Gould dumped them in the garbage can right before he started up the ramp. He thanked the attendants for their time and started back to the hotel with a smile on his face. So far things were going exactly as planned.

The day was drawing to an end, and they were getting ready to pull out. Gould had returned the rental car he'd picked up in Montreal and grabbed a new one from a different company using yet another identity. The vehicle, a black Ford Explorer, was packed and parked on a ramp less than a block away. The transponder Gould had placed in Rapp's wife's car contained miniaturized GPS technology. Gould had checked every thirty minutes or so to see if the car had moved. It hadn't. Even if it had, he would have only been mildly interested. He doubted she was going to go home in the middle of the work-day, and home was what he wanted. That was where Rapp would be most comfortable.

Claudia was feeling much better. She'd even managed to keep down a late lunch. While Gould was out switching cars she had gone online and checked out NBC's Web site. In addition to reporting up-to-the- minute news, the Web site promoted the evening news. It mentioned three key stories they would be covering, and one of them was a controversy brewing over the president's nominee for Secretary of Education. It was the same thing they'd watched Anna Rielly report on that morning. They were running on the assumption that she would do the evening news and then head home.