CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Beads of Sweat”
Wednesday morning.
Barnett took Otto to a low-ceilinged well-lit room with a half dozen agents at desks. An old-fashioned bulletin board on the wall was crammed with notices including the Ten Most Wanted. There was also a list for the Ten Most Wanted Hackers. Otto did a double take before he realized it wasn’t his photo on the page. A trim little man with a hair-line mustache took Otto’s photograph against a white background and presented him with a laminated FBI ID card.
Barnett used a magnetic key to unlock the stairwell door. They went down two floors to communications and logistics. In an open office area Barnett led Otto and Steve toward three agents leaning against desks shooting the breeze. The agents turned to face them as they approached.
“Bob, Mel, Gus, this is Otto White, the agent in charge of the Darling investigation.”
They shook hands. The men petted the dog. Gus Alvarez was a slight, balding man with rimless glasses, red suspenders and pale skin. He fell in behind Otto and Barnett as the latter led them out of the room, down the hall, to an office Barnett unlocked with a key card.
Barnett handed the key card to Otto. “This is your office. Gus is your tech support. Anything you need.”
The windowless office contained a desk with two computers, a printer, a shredder, and a two-year-old Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar on the wall. Fluorescent lights in a long hooded fixture cast cool light. The floor was a colorless rug with a couple telltale cigarette burns. A six pack of bottled water in a plastic yoke rested on the desk.
“I’ve loaded everything pertaining to the investigation into your computer,” Alvarez said. “Under documents, the titles are self-explanatory.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Jesus God.”
“Steve’s a little flatulent.”
Alvarez pulled out his wallet and handed Otto his card. “Anything you need call me. You want a laptop?”
“Sure. Steve needs water.”
“I’ll take care of it. I suggest you start by watching the videos. The first is Alan Froines, a senior partner of Atkins, Alley, and Ross with offices on Bedford Street and in Albuquerque. As you know, Atkins, Alley and Ross include Glass Systems among their clients. Glass Systems is a major defense contractor. This video was taken from a surveillance camera in the firm’s underground parking lot in Albuquerque.
“The second is Cap and Trade lobbyist Jody Albrecht (Green Future, LLC,) taken at Harrah’s Casino in Reno, NV. The quality of the tapes is radically different. The Albuquerque tape was taken with old technology. The Harrah’s tape was taken with the new Pelco, which use three exposures with different light values, refined for depth and shadow, and gives a very clear record of what occurred. I have to warn you that the videos are upsetting.
“You will find all the victims under VICTIMS. Each has a link to his file.”
Otto sat at the desk. Steve curled up at his feet. “No women?”
“None of whom we know. It’s just another odd wrinkle. We’re baffled. That’s why they’re paying you the big bucks.”
Riiight,” Otto said tapping the control key. The monitor sprang to life with the home page of the FBI. Two rows of icons marched vertically on the left in military ranks. Short cuts to VICAP, NCIC, and the Terrorist Watch List. The two videos had their own icons: Froines and Albrecht.
“You need me I’ll be right down the hall,” Alvarez said. “I’ll get your dog some water.”
“Thanks, Gus.”
Alvarez left shutting the door behind him. Otto was alone in the belly of the FBI, the only sound a faint hum from the hard-drive, a fluorescent buzz and Steve’s ragged breath. Otto brought up the list of victims. Sixteen of these were confirmed instances of spontaneous human combustion. Seventeen were speculative. Most of the speculatives had occurred overseas. Sen. Darling was the latest addition. Otto began printing out each individual’s history. He would study them in his hotel room.
There were two raps on the door. Otto scooted back on his smooth-gliding chair and opened it. Alvarez came in with a plastic hotel ice bucket filled with water that he set on the floor next to the wall and an Apple laptop, which he handed to Otto.
“I loaded this one too so don’t lose it.”
Steve got up and began to drink. Otto thanked Alvarez. Alvarez left.
Otto turned off the overhead lights. The only illumination came from the computer terminal, a cool blue reflecting the FBI home page. Otto brought up the first video, Allen Froines in Albuquerque.
The screen was black and white, a still life of a parking garage with pale gray pillars and expensive cars. The quality was surprisingly good. A heavyset man wearing a hat and a dark suit and carrying a briefcase entered the picture, back to viewers, from below the camera. A blinged-out Chrysler cruised slowly past and disappeared beneath the camera. Froines stared after it with distaste.
Froines was halfway across the floor to his car when he stopped, dropped the briefcase and took off his hat. Smoke wafted from his ears. He staggered, turning to face the camera, eyes blank, mouth. open, hands groping. Flame burst from his mouth and in a sudden blaze that turned the screen white he went nova. The blaze flared silently for over a minute. It faded revealing the blackened cinder of a man banging into a pillar and collapsing. He continued to burn long after he fell.
The video made Otto queasy. He’d seen too many burn victims, smelled the blackened flesh. The sight brought back those sensations. Once you’ve smelled burning flesh it stays with you. The most disturbing aspect was sometimes the smell of cooked human flesh made him hungry, even as his belly was in full rebellion. Just before Froines burst into flames Otto thought he saw a gleam near his head, like a droplet of flung sweat.
He sat quietly while his equilibrium returned. He sipped bottled water. He cued the second video.
The second video was worse. There were others present. The quality was astonishing, as shot by Laszlo Kovacs. Cap and Trade lobbyist Jody Albrecht (Green Energy, LLC,) a slight, balding man with a diamond ear stud, regarded his cards at a blackjack table. The video was taken from over and behind the dealer. One player sat on Albrecht’s left, two on his right. The men on Albrecht’s right appeared to be Chinese, wearing identical black suits.
Albrecht shoved a stack of chips into the pot then flung his cards across the table striking the dealer. Albrecht looked surprised. He lurched out of his chair, curling in pain. When a security guard stepped up to ask if he was all right he shoved the bigger man away with enough strength to send the guard stumbling into the table. Albrecht spun around like a dog chasing its tail and burst into flame like a Roman candle. He became an indistinct white blaze. Players scrambled for the exits. Three casino personnel were on the scene within seconds emptying fire extinguishers on the writhing figure, to no avail.
Charred remains poked up through the white foam like the contents of a shark’s stomach.
This one had witnesses. There were numerous articles in the Reno press about the incident. The police claimed that Albrecht’s clothes caught fire. Grief and trauma counselors believed it was a mass hallucination. Some believed David Copperfield was behind the stunt.
ALBRECHT’S DEATH RULED A SUICIDE
People simply refused to believe what they’d seen, what the evidence supported. A U of N physics professor explained that Albrecht had made his clothes from a highly flammable synthetic fiber imbued with accelerants. Several of the witnesses claimed to have smelled a chemical aroma around him.
Otto sweated despite the chill temperature. He calmed himself ruffling Steve’s fur. He watched both videos again. He watched the Albrecht video five more times, trying to isolate the incident where a minute gleam appeared in mid-air. Had he really seen it? After much back and forth the best he could do was a bright mote that lasted for a split second.
Like Froines’ flung sweat.
***