Max Collins - Executive Order

Kevin strode over and, somewhat soapily, shook Reeder’s hand.

“Not exactly a social call,” Reeder said.

Kevin frowned in confusion, then turned to Rogers and said, “Patti, why didn’t you give me a little warning? I’d have cleaned up the place.”

The apartment was about as messy as a NASA clean room, but Reeder said nothing.

“Not prudent, calling,” Rogers said.

Kevin looked even more confused.

She touched his arm. “I need to fill you in about something.” Then she led him by the arm to the couch.

Taking his cue, Reeder said, “I’ll just step outside and check in with Miggie.”

Rogers nodded and he went out into the hall, then punched the computer expert’s cell number into the burner phone.

When the call went straight to voice mail, Reeder tried not to make anything of that. He debated calling back, but then his phone trilled at him — UNKNOWN.

Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, he took the call. “Yeah.”

“Miggie,” the phone said. “Saw you called my cell. Figured I better use one of your friend’s burners instead.”

“Yeah,” Reeder said again.

“Everything okay on your end?”

“So far. We’re at Patti’s. Anybody else check in?”

“Bohannon and Wade are treading water out in the field, each on his own. Hardesy, too. He picked up burner phones from some street source of his and got ’em to Bohannon and Wade. Nothing new from Nichols, although Lucas did get a burner to her.”

“Try to call her?”

“Yeah, no answer.”

Reeder didn’t love that. “What about Trevor?”

“He’s the only one Hardesy couldn’t link up to and give a clean cell. But, then, you know Ivanek.”

Not working with a partner, the profiler would occasionally fall off the grid for a day or even more. Didn’t answer calls, check e-mails, nothing. That he’d been out of touch for less than a day didn’t concern Reeder, not much anyway — but he wished they’d heard from Nichols.

Reeder asked the computer guru, “You have any luck on the flag-pin front?”

“Unless the guy reports it missing, finding who that cam belongs to is gonna be tough going.”

“I figured as much. What about our GAO drone?”

“Well, an employee signed out of GAO and into the Secret Service building yesterday.”

Reeder perked. “Do tell.”

“Could be our boy — one Lawrence Morris.”

“Why ‘could be’?”

“Well, I never saw him, and what you and Patti gave me was fairly general. Seen one government drone, seen ’em all. I’m sending you a photo to this number. See if it’s your elevator buddy.”

“Will do. Good work.”

“Thanks. Oh, and I’m still digging through Wooten’s Cayman Island money.”

“And?”

“And one of the shell companies the money was funneled through was owned by Adam Benjamin.”

The late billionaire had launched an independent run for president last year.

Reeder grinned at the phone. “So we’re getting somewhere.”

“Somewhere... and nowhere. This transaction was made after Benjamin died. Still... considering Benjamin’s role in last year’s fun-and-games, it’s a hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

Like most law enforcement types, Reeder hated coincidences. But sometimes seeming coincidences were very real clues. “That shell company — does the Benjamin estate own it, or what?”

“No, it was sold as part of his holdings. But this looks like another shell company — something called DTOM Holdings.”

“Which is what the hell?”

“No idea. Shells within shells, like those Russian dolls.” Miggie laughed a little. “Except here you open one doll and there are fifteen inside.”

“Then why do you sound so chipper?”

“Why, don’t you like a challenge?”

Reeder chuckled and said, “Stick with it. I’ll get back to you after I check the photo. And keep trying to reach Nichols, too.”

“Will do.”

They clicked off and Reeder called up the photo. Staring blandly back at him was the bespectacled bastard from the elevator, who was indeed one Lawrence Morris. A name to put with the face was always good. Now, to learn more about him...

Reeder knocked on Rogers’ door.

“It’s open, Joe,” she called.

He went in and saw Rogers and Kevin side by side on the new couch. The boyfriend had wiped off the shaving cream, the blue of beard making his profession seem unlikely. His concerned expression didn’t surprise Reeder, who walked over to face them.

Looking up at him, locking eyes, Rogers said, “Kevin isn’t coming with us.”

Reeder frowned. “He really should. Kevin, you really should.”

She held up a hand to cut him off. “It’s not that we don’t value your opinion, Joe, or your advice... but this is our issue, mine and Kevin’s, and we think it’s safer for both of us if only I know where he is.”

Reeder nodded. She was right, of course, it was their issue. But he did say, to both of them, “Staying here would be foolish.”

They were holding hands. “Kevin won’t be here... he has friends he can stay with.”

Reeder’s eyebrows went up. “He might be endangering them.”

“Kevin doesn’t think so. Joe, other than these friends and a few others, no one really knows about us anyway. We’ve kept it low-key, these months. It’s not like we’re posting selfies on Instagram or Facebook.”

Reeder shifted his gaze to Kevin. “You’re sure about this? You do seem to be living together. I don’t know how much Patti told you, but we’re navigating very treacherous waters right now. I sent my own family away.”

Kevin said nothing, just raised a forefinger in “wait” mode. He got up and disappeared down the hall. Reeder frowned at Rogers again, but she just smiled, and raised a hand in her own “wait” gesture.

Kevin was gone about two minutes, but that was enough time for him to finish his shave and put on his shoulder-length wig of brunette curls. Wrapped in a dark blue silk robe, he was Kevin no more — this was Virginia Plain.

Planting himself before Reeder, Kevin — his voice higher, sharper now — said, “Joe, dear, how long have you and Patti been on the radar of these miscreants? Long enough for them to know about Patti and me, despite our discretion?”

“They might know about Kevin,” Reeder admitted, “but probably not Virginia.”

Startlingly, Kevin’s voice dropped to his normal male pitch. “That’s right. And until we all can come in from the cold, I’ll be in full-on Virginia — clothes, makeup, heels, hair, the whole magilla. Trust me — they’ll never know.”

Reeder nodded. “I’m convinced. But we’re dealing with people who have no compunction about killing, remember... and who have resources that stretch into the highest reaches of government. You need to be good and goddamn careful. Patti, you gave him a burner?”

She nodded.

“Kevin — Virginia — whatever. Anything out of the ordinary, anything scares or disturbs you, you get back to us, now . Understood?”

“Understood, Mr. Reeder.”

“And Kevin?”

“Yes?”

“Goddamnit, it’s ‘Joe.’”

The beautiful face beamed. “All right, Joe.”

Reeder curled a finger at Rogers and said, “Time.” She nodded, went over and gave Kevin a quick kiss, and then she and Reeder were out the door.

They were in the elevator, on their way down, when she asked, “So — Miggie?”

He told her what Mig had shared about the GAO drone.

She frowned. “Lawrence Morris — he even sounds like a damn accountant.”

“Accountants don’t generally threaten to kill you.”