Covert Justice

“Thank you,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Her smirk told him she wasn’t buying it. “I’m moving slow, but there’s no permanent damage. Thanks to you.”

They stared at each other for a moment. He got the impression that she was analyzing everything he said, every move he made, but he couldn’t be sure what she’d concluded about him. “Can I offer you a Coke? Mountain Dew? Tea? Water?”

“Water would be great.”

He tried not to let on how stiff he was as he walked to the kitchen.

Her voice followed him. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks. It was my grandparents’. I inherited it after they passed away.”

Why on earth had he said that? He grabbed a water for her and a Mountain Dew for himself. Returning to the living room, he handed her the bottle and eased into the chair across from her. He had so many questions, but no idea where to start.

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and removed a small leather case. She flipped it open and slid it across the coffee table. “Maybe this will help.”

He read the words on the badge. FBI? Was this for real?

“Need a closer look? You can call headquarters, if you’d like to verify it’s legitimate.”

FBI? A lead weight settled on his chest as the faint hope that the events of last night were a fluke disintegrated. “I think I’d like to hear what you have to say first.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “I need you to know, before last night I had no idea you were in danger.”

The way she looked at him with her head cocked to the side, brows knit, mouth tight, he couldn’t question the sincerity or concern behind her words.

Then again, for all he knew the FBI gave their agents acting classes.

He’d fallen for a pretty face once before. And Heidi Zimmerman qualified as more than a pretty face. Her hair spiraled past her shoulders in shades of blond and brown and one little curl kept breaking free from where she tucked it behind her ear. Long lashes framed big green eyes set over a cute nose.

Cute nose? Nobody had a cute nose. He needed to pull it together. What had she said? She hadn’t known someone wanted him dead? What did someone say to that? Great?

She sat straighter in her chair. “I’m sure this goes without saying, but if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, I’ll deny it and you’ll be prosecuted for obstruction of justice.”

“Sounds fun.”

Her lips twitched. Super FBI agent lady had a sense of humor. Interesting.

No trace of humor lingered when she spoke again. “Fifty years ago, Viktor Kovac immigrated to America from Hungary. It didn’t take him long to settle into New York City and within a few years, more members of the family joined him. Within ten years of his arrival, the Kovacs had made a name for themselves in criminal circles. The police suspected them of everything from money laundering to drug smuggling.”

She took a sip of her water. “Like most organized crime families, they are focused on doing whatever it takes to protect their own and make as much money as they can. In recent years the younger Kovacs have pushed into darker territory. Instead of money laundering and protection schemes, they’ve been linked to human trafficking, arms smuggling and trying to corner the market on certain prescription drugs.”

“I’ve never heard of them.”

“No. You wouldn’t. Other than the occasional low-ranking lieutenant or wannabe, they’ve never been prosecuted.”

“Never?”

She shook her head, disgust etching her features. “They’ve been linked to multiple homicides yet despite extraordinary efforts on the part of detectives, FBI agents and even informants, there’s never been enough proof to take them to trial, much less secure a conviction.”

Her voice cracked and for a moment, a cavern of pain opened in her eyes. As quickly as it appeared, she looked away and when their eyes met again, steely determination was in its place.

“The younger Kovacs are opportunists. They function without morals, ethics or loyalty to anything or anyone other than the family.”

“You don’t have to convince me. They’re bad news. I’ll be sure to stay away from them.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be as easy as you may think.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t know any Kovacs.”

When she looked at him her eyes filled, not with the intensity he’d seen a moment ago, but with compassion. She had the look his mother had had when she’d told him about Grandma’s cancer. A look like that only came with bad news.

“Are you saying I do know some Kovacs?”

She nodded. “One of your employees.”

“I know all my employees. Not a Kovac in the bunch.”

“Two months ago, you hired a man by the name of Mark Hammond, I believe?”

“Yes.”

“Mark Hammond isn’t his real name.”

Blake put his head in his hands. This couldn’t be happening. “I run background checks on all my employees.”

“If you’ve got the money and the know-how, it’s not hard to create an identity that can withstand all but the most thorough of investigations.”

“So—”

“Mark Hammond’s real name is Markos Kovac. He’s the youngest grandson of the original Kovac and he has a lot to prove. He’s the baby of the family by quite a few years and most of his older brothers have already established their roles in the organization.”

Blake sat up. “How do you know this?”

“The Kovac family is my job.”

She didn’t elaborate and the set of her mouth made him think she might not say more, but she swallowed hard and continued. “I know more about the Kovacs than anyone else in the Bureau. When Markos and his wife, Katarina, bolted for North Carolina, I followed. I’ve been here four weeks, watching, following, listening—trying to figure out what Markos is up to.”

“I haven’t seen you.”

“I’m an undercover agent. That’s kind of the idea.”

Something about this whole conversation didn’t make sense. “What does any of this have to do with me? Mark may not like me, but I don’t think he’d run me off the road. Besides, I hate to tell you this, but he was at work when I left.”

She started to answer, but he cut her off. “Has it occurred to you that maybe this guy wants to go straight? Maybe he wants to get out of the family business and live an honest life.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “No one leaves the Kovacs. No one has even tried in the past fifteen years.” The words were more breath than whisper. She looked up at him and the pain on her face made him lean toward her. He wanted to comfort her, somehow, but he didn’t even know her.

The moment passed. “What do you mean, about Markos not liking you?”

Blake rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ve just had a few minor issues.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to decide whether your issues are minor or not.”

Ah. Yes. There was the bossiness he remembered. “Fine. He’s had some inconsistencies with quality that none of our other supervisors have had. The last twenty or so off-quality batches we’ve produced happened on his watch. I’ve questioned him, even hung out during shifts, tried to ask around. There’s nothing I could prove in terms of negligence in his work, but I did tell Dad and Caroline that I was watching him. We’ve been wondering if he might be some sort of corporate spy.”

“Do you have a lot of trouble with corporate espionage?”

Blake couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag. “We make things no one else can make. Sure, we produce a lot of stuff that’s standard—your basic water bottles, food containers, chemical containers—but over the past ten years, we’ve built a reputation for making specialty containers no one else will even attempt. We make unique shapes and if we can’t make it, no one can. This year we landed a huge account for water bottles shaped like footballs, basketballs and baseballs. Our client has already sold them to over thirty professional teams. They hit baseball parks this summer. That account alone doubled the production on our specialty lines.”

She didn’t seem as impressed as she should be.

“We have some fierce competitors out there who would love to get an inside look at what we do.”

Heidi raised her hands. “Okay. Okay. You guys are the best. I’m not disputing your status. But I know the Kovacs, and corporate espionage isn’t their style,” she said. “He’s here to do more than steal some trade secrets.”

“Care to be more specific?”

Heidi looked down. “I can’t.”

“You what?”

“I can’t be more specific, because I don’t know. That’s what I’m here to find out.”

* * *

Blake sat back in his chair. Heidi watched as the struggle to grasp her words played out across his face. They sat in silence for several minutes before he cleared his throat. “What does any of this have to do with me getting run off the road last night?”

There it was. The question she’d been waiting for and the one she dreaded answering. “I don’t know. I’m hoping you might be able to help with that.”

Skepticism radiated from his face. “Me?”

“One of the things that has bugged me from the beginning is why Markos chose HPI.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“You make plastic containers. What’s dangerous about plastic? Sure, you store chemicals in high quantity, but he’d be able to get those in other places—places run by men who don’t have your reputation for high moral standards. I can’t figure out the connection between what you do at HPI and what he could be planning. But after last night, I’m certain of one thing.”

“What?”

“He believes you are standing in his way.”

Blake stood and paced around the small living room. He’d taken this far better than she’d expected. He hadn’t thrown anything. He hadn’t asked her to leave. He hadn’t refused to believe her. His mind had to be in turmoil, but he didn’t appear rattled. If anything, he looked like a man who was formulating a plan of action.

No. Not what she’d expected at all.

He turned to her. “Are you hungry?”

“Hungry?”

“Yes. I’m starving. How do you feel about pizza?”

“My feelings are generally favorable toward anything that involves cheese.”

A true smile flickered across his face and Heidi looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. Dark hair with a hint of curl. Dark brown eyes. Strong chin. He reminded her of the brooding movie stars of the ’40s. Until he smiled. His smile did something funny to her, but she didn’t have the time or inclination to explore the emotion.

He pondered the phone in his hand. “Is it safe for me to have a pizza delivered?”

She could tell he was trying to keep things light, even as he processed the seriousness of the situation. “It should be, but to be sure, you can use my phone.”

He took her phone and dialed the number from memory. “What do you like?”

“Meat. The more the better.”

He widened his eyes at her. “I’d have taken you for a vegetarian.”

“I’d starve.”

He placed the order and returned her phone before settling back into his chair. He grimaced as he sat. He had to be hurting.

He pulled in a deep breath and winced again. He could use the accident as a cop-out. He could tell her he didn’t feel well and needed to get some rest. Most people would.

Not Blake Harrison. “I want to talk more about this situation, but first, I need to know more about you.”

Heidi wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but it was a fair question. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Who are you?” Frustration oozed from his words. She needed to remember he’d had less than thirty minutes to come to terms with some life-altering news.

“My name is Heidi Zimmerman. I’m an FBI agent and for the past ten years, the Kovac family has been my primary assignment.”

“Ten years? How old are you?”

“It’s none of your business, but I’m thirty-two. I joined the Bureau straight out of college. Virginia Tech. I have a degree in mechanical engineering and a minor in accounting.”

“Interesting combination.”

“The Kovacs own several manufacturing enterprises. I’ve gone undercover as an engineer more than once.”

“How’d you wind up with the FBI?”

Heidi gave him the answer she gave to anyone who asked. “I was always interested in law enforcement. Seemed exciting and fulfilling. So I went for it.”

Blake studied her, then shook his head. “I’ve believed pretty much everything you’ve said, but I don’t think that’s the real reason.”

Heidi froze. How could he—?

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine. Spare me the slick story that could be an advertisement for the FBI recruiters to use. It doesn’t suit you.”

Heidi didn’t answer right away. She hadn’t expected Blake Harrison to be so perceptive. But the truth? The truth wasn’t something she shared. Ever. She couldn’t. Not if she wanted to live to fight another day.

“I didn’t lie,” she said. Blake started to argue with her but she cut him off. “I grew up rough. There were a few police officers who made a huge impact on me. Then this FBI agent saved my life.” She’d skated into dangerous territory and decided to keep it vague. “By the time I graduated from high school, I had my heart set on joining the FBI, but with my background, I didn’t know if the FBI would take me. I chose college courses so I could work in something other than law enforcement if plan A didn’t pan out.”

She hadn’t come anywhere close to telling him the whole truth, but not one word of what she’d said was a lie. She gave him time to process her words.

“Why are you embarrassed about your childhood?” he finally asked.

How had he made that leap? And how annoying that he was right. “Look, not everyone has a Norman Rockwell upbringing. Mine isn’t something I talk about. When people ask, I give them the recruiting-poster version. It’s cleaner. And most people don’t like messy.”

He nodded. “That I believe. But you shouldn’t assume my life has been all sunshine and roses.”

No. She knew about that. She’d had background checks run on the entire Harrison family. Not because they were suspects, but more than one operation had gone south because an agent hadn’t done their homework.

The Harrisons had checked out. An American success story. Family-owned business, strong family, loyal employees.

Except for one.

Blake closed his eyes and shook his head. “You know about Lana, don’t you?”

She wouldn’t deny it.

“Do I even want to know how you know?”

“Background checks are a standard part of an operation like this.” His eyes flashed and Heidi pressed on. Might as well rip the bandage off in one quick pull. “As soon as Markos got the job, I ran background checks and financials on your entire family. Even pulled some reports on your grandparents, looking for any connection to the Kovacs, however slight. I didn’t find anything that raised any red flags.”

“Except Lana.”

“Her, um, mistakes, were a matter of public record. As was your divorce and her relinquishment of her parental rights while in prison.”

Blake fidgeted in his chair. Frustration? Embarrassment? Or trying to find a more comfortable position? Heidi couldn’t be sure.

Heidi’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She silenced it without looking. As a rule, she kept her phone out of sight when she was meeting with someone on official business. If she was going to ask them to trust her, they deserved to get her undivided attention.

The phone vibrated again. Two calls in ten seconds? It might be time to break her rule.

Blake waved his Mountain Dew toward her. “Seems like someone wants to talk to you. Go ahead.”

“Sorry about this.” She caught the call before it went to voice mail. “Zimmerman.”

“Are you still with Blake Harrison?”

Max? “Yes.”

“Stay with him.” Max’s tone left no doubt. Something bad had happened.

“What—”

“Hang on.”

Blake’s phone rang and his brow furrowed as he glanced at it. She waved a hand to encourage him to take it.

“Mom? Mom, slow down. What—”

His face registered confusion, then concern, then horror. “I’ll be right there. Call me if anything changes. Tell Dad I love him. Yes. I love you, too.”

He dropped his phone on the table. “They’re taking Dad to the hospital in Asheville. Mom thinks he’s had a stroke.” He stood and rummaged around in a basket on the kitchen counter. “I have keys to Mom’s car in here somewhere.”

A stroke? This explained the call from Max.

Max came back on the line. “Heidi,” Max said.

“I know. Stroke?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Don’t let Blake Harrison out of your sight.”

THREE

Heidi slid her phone into her bag, retrieved her keys and stepped into the kitchen where Blake pawed through the small basket.

“Good grief.” He dumped the basket on the counter. “Where are they?”

“Blake.” If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge her. She put one hand over his. That got his attention.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to go.”

She jangled her keys. “I know. I’ll drive.”

He froze. “What?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

Bless his heart. He didn’t understand. “Blake, someone tried to kill you last night. You have the grandson of a notorious organized-crime family working for you. Now your dad has a stroke?” He had to see the pattern here.

“My grandfather died from a stroke in his early sixties.”

“Then this may be nothing more than a horrible coincidence, but I’m not willing to take that chance. Let me drive.”

They loaded into her car with no further conversation. She didn’t need his occasional prompts to turn left or right, but this probably wasn’t the best time to tell him that she’d already made it a point to know how to get to the nearest hospitals.

He stared out the window as she drove and she didn’t try to interrupt his thoughts. She’d unloaded a lot of information on him. He had to be exhausted from the long night in the hospital, and now this.

When her phone rang, she answered, aware that his face had paled. She held the phone to her ear, rather than letting the audio play through the car’s Bluetooth system.

“Zimmerman.”

“Just talked to Richards,” Max said. “They have eyes on the little girl. She’s watching a movie. Both grandparents in the house. No suspicious activity. Team’s prepared to stay all night.”

“Good.”

“Caroline Harrison’s phone indicates she’s heading to Asheville.”

As expected.

“Kovac is at home.”

“Are we sure?”

“Yes. He’s sitting on his back porch smoking. TacOps says he’s been out there for thirty minutes and he’s been home all day.”

“So...”

“We’ll keep an eye on things. We’ll get some blood samples and have our guys run tests for anything suspicious.”

She could feel Blake’s eyes boring into her and chose her words with care. “I would think it would be difficult to cause a stroke without there being other warning signs.”

Anyone who’d ever watched a crime drama or a spy thriller would know certain drugs and poisons could be used to induce a heart attack, but a stroke?

“It should be,” Max said. “I have a call in to a few of our bioterrorism experts to be sure there isn’t something new out there we haven’t heard of. The only drugs or poisons I know that can cause a stroke would have to be consumed in such high quantities that they’d have to be administered over time, with a gradual buildup of symptoms. He should have been too sick to be sitting around having dinner one minute and then be exhibiting full-on stroke symptoms the next.”

“Unless someone’s found a way to induce a stroke that looks like a natural one.”

“Exactly.”

“Let me know what they say.”

“I will. You okay?”

“Yeah. Should be at the hospital in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Tell Blake the latest is his dad’s stable. They’ve administered those stroke drugs. He’s breathing on his own and talking to the docs.”

“I will.”

“Z. Be careful.”

“I will.”

She hit End and glanced at Blake. “Your dad is stable and talking to the doctors.”

He blinked in surprise. “Do I want to know how you know that?”

“If you don’t, then you aren’t going to like the rest of it.” She filled him in on Caroline’s location and Maggie’s.

“How on earth do you know all this?”

“While you were in the hospital last night, a judge gave us permission to put traces on your phones. And we set up some passive surveillance at your homes and your in-laws’ home, since you and Maggie are there so often. Some video feeds on the outside, motion sensors, stuff like that. We have no intention or desire to violate your privacy. This is all for your protection, I assure you. I didn’t think you’d object.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.” Blake frowned. “We can discuss it later. Why do you think Maggie is in danger? Even if I’m somehow a problem for Mark’s plan, what reason would he have to target my daughter?”

Heidi’s mind flitted to that sunny afternoon fifteen years ago. The smells. The heat. The pain. No. Not again. She shook off the foreboding.

Blake needed to be concerned enough to work with them, to take the necessary precautions, but not so worried that he couldn’t carry on business as usual. “I don’t want to think she is, but I’m not willing to take any chances, because the truth is I can’t guarantee we can keep anyone safe.”

She let that hang there, not wanting to rush past it and have it look like she was trying to gloss over this harshest of realities. “We don’t know why Kovac is here or what his end game is. We don’t know if your family is at risk or not. Up until last night, we assumed you were safe and we were wrong. We’ve been tracking Kovac’s movements, but now we have a system set up to alert us if he approaches any member of your family outside the plant walls. By tracking your phones and cars, we’ll know if anyone decides to take off on an unplanned trip and we’ll know if anyone’s phone suddenly goes dead.”

Blake shifted in his seat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s not much. Cell phones and locations are all well and good, but if somebody decides to kidnap my daughter or my mother—”

Heidi held up a hand. “We doubt either of them are targets, but we have systems in place to monitor their whereabouts. If anything looks suspicious, I’ll be notified. After what happened last night, I’ve put in a request to get additional support at your home, but with your houses the way they are, it may be tricky.”

She paused as she waited for the traffic to clear so she could turn left. “We’re looking for a rental property close to the plant we can use as a base of operation.”

He shook his head. “This is way past weird.”

“I wish I could tell you it won’t get weirder, but it will.”

“Awesome.” Blake rubbed his hands over his face.

They rode in silence for a few minutes before Heidi risked a question. “I was going to ask you this before your mom called. Do you work late often?”

“You don’t already know?”

The words held a mixture of hostility and teasing that made it impossible for her to be angry with him. “No. Your family has been on the periphery of my surveillance. Not the main focus.”

“Okay. That makes sense, but I don’t understand what my work schedule has to do with anything.”

“I’m trying to get a handle on how difficult it would have been for him to plan the attack against you last night.”

He adjusted the seat belt at his neck. “I almost never work late.”

That didn’t fit with the profile she’d been building in her head.

“I work hard while I’m there, and then leave by four-thirty unless I’m covering for one of the engineers or dealing with some major production issues. I make it a point to spend evenings with Maggie. I take her to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu classes one afternoon a week, and she loves sports. We just finished soccer and are getting ready to start basketball. If we don’t have practice or a game, then we hang out at home. If I have things I didn’t get to during the day, I log in to the system from home and work after she goes to bed.”