James Swain - Bad News Travels

Daniels realized that Rojas was referring to Jon. She had hit another dead end.

“Thanks for the assist,” she said.

“Happy to help,” Rojas said. “I’ll need to get a statement from you and your partner before the night is over.”

“Will do.”

Angel’s Dining Car in Palatka bore a strong resemblance to a grounded submarine. A hot-dog shaped building with a foundation of concrete blocks, it sat in the middle of a parking lot, and claimed to be the oldest diner in the Sunshine State.

Daniels studied the extensive menu. The big sellers appeared to be the fried okra, fried green beans, and frog legs. They also served breakfast all day long.

“You go first,” she said.

Jon ordered the Black Bottom, which was a mixture of scrambled eggs, bacon, and ground beef, all served on a toasted potato bun.

“What strikes your fancy?” the waitress asked.

“I’ll have the same, and a cup of coffee,” Daniels said.

They fell quiet after the waitress departed and enjoyed the down-home smells coming out of the kitchen. It was a friendly place and felt genuine.

“You hungry?” Daniels asked.

“Starving,” Jon said. “I know I’m not supposed to feel that way, but I do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shooting people is supposed to make you feel awful, and rob you of your appetite. I heard a psychologist say that at a murder trial.”

“How did shooting Dalton make you feel?”

“Bad at first, but I got over it. Sort of like accidentally running over a squirrel. It goes back to something that happened to me in the navy.”

Part of Jon’s training as a SEAL was an oath he’d taken that prohibited him from talking about his missions. When he did, it was usually in vague terms.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked.

He absently played with his napkin. “We were on a rescue mission in Central America, and a guy with a machete jumped out of the bush, and tried to cut my head off. I had no choice, and put him down. I got so upset that I didn’t eat for days.

“My commanding officer took me aside. He told me that if the guy had killed me, he didn’t think he’d be having any issues putting down food. My CO said, ‘Don’t waste your emotions on the enemy. Save them for the victims.’ That stayed with me.”

Their food came. Her mother had told her never to eat anything bigger than her head. Daniels decided to ignore her mom’s advice, and dug in.

“We need to find out which law enforcement agency was running the surveillance operation on Dalton, and get our hands on those records,” she said between bites. “I’m going to put in a request to subpoena Callyo’s records first thing tomorrow.”

“I’m sure Callyo will fight you in court,” Jon said.

“On what grounds?”

“They sign confidentiality agreements with all their customers. Callyo’s lawyers will argue that if they release Dalton’s records, it will be opening Pandora’s box, and they’ll have to turn over records to every sleazy criminal defense attorney that requests them. It’s a strong argument.”

“You think I could lose?”

“Yes. Even if you win, Callyo’s lawyers will file an appeal. The case could drag on for months.”

The food no longer tasted very good. Daniels wiped her mouth, and tossed her balled-up napkin on her plate. Jon wasn’t having any issues, and kept eating.

“I have another idea,” he said.

“Does it involve breaking the law? If so, then just do it, and don’t tell me.”

“It doesn’t involve breaking the law. Thanks for asking.”

“I’m all ears. What is it?”

“When the Callyo technology was first being rolled out, the company’s owner gave a presentation to Team Adam in Washington. I introduced myself afterward, and he gave me his contact info. Why don’t I call him?”

“He’s not going to turn that data over, based upon a phone call.”

“No, but he might tell me who his client is. Then you can contact them, and request Dalton’s information. Since you’re with the FBI, they’ll have to comply.”

Jon wasn’t telling her the whole story, and she wondered if he’d taken Callyo’s owner for a few beers. That was his style, and it had made him a lot of friends.

“It’s worth a shot. Call him,” she said.

Callyo’s owner was a laid-back guy named Chris Bennett. Back in the rental, Jon gave him a call, and left a message on voice mail. New companies with crime-fighting technology were popping up every day, and competition was fierce. It was all about customer service, and Beth wasn’t surprised when Bennett called back a minute later.

Jon put his cell phone on speaker and placed it into the cupholder. “Hello, Chris. This is Jon Lancaster. We met last year after your presentation to Team Adam.”

“Good evening, Jon. You’re based out of Fort Lauderdale, correct?”

“Good memory. I’m sitting in a car with Special Agent Daniels of the FBI, and I have you on speaker phone.”

“Good evening, Special Agent Daniels,” Bennett said.

“Hello, Chris. Nice to meet you,” Daniels said.

“Same here. What can I do for you folks tonight?”

“We’re conducting an investigation in Palatka, and happened across a box of burner phones with your tracking technology,” Jon said. “The suspect who had these phones is named Dalton, and is connected to a human trafficking ring. We assumed the Jacksonville office of the FBI was running the operation, but that isn’t the case.”

“Is it an FDLE operation?” Bennett asked.

“The FDLE has no knowledge of the operation. We’ve hit a dead end, and were hoping you could tell us whose show this is.”

“I sign confidentiality agreements with all my clients,” Bennett said. “If it is one of our jobs, I can’t share the data with you.”

“We don’t expect you to break an agreement with a client,” Daniels said. “We just need to know who the client is. We’ll take it from there.”

“Got it. Okay, let me see if this is one of our jobs.”

“How could it not be?” Jon asked. “Your tracking equipment is in the burners.”

“It could be a Chinese rip-off,” Bennett explained. “China doesn’t recognize our trademarks or patents, and we get ripped off by companies we compete with. It’s the price of success these days. Give me a couple of minutes. Back at you.”

The phone went silent. They leaned back in their seats to wait. She heard the faint whistle, and knew that Jon was upset.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Who said something was wrong?” he replied.

“You’re clearly upset about something.”

“I didn’t know I was so obvious to read.”

“Or maybe I’m just really good at it. Tell me.”

“Carrie threatened me. She said I could take it to the bank.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been threatened before.” She reached across the seat and slapped his leg. “Dalton is dead, and his dear mama is going to jail. You’re safe.”

“This was real. She’s going to enact some kind of revenge for my shooting her son. She said she was going to rip our hearts out.”

“Was I included in her threat?”

“Yes. It was directed at both of us.”

“Do you think she might have family in Palatka?”

“Her family doesn’t worry me. But the Russians do.”

Bennett’s voice came out of the cell phone. “Sorry this is taking so long. We have six active jobs in Florida. Each has a different account manager, and I need to speak to each of them to find out who’s running this operation. I shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Take all the time you need,” Daniels said.

The phone went silent.

“Tell me why the Russians worry you,” she said.