Stolen. Part 2
FBI Special Agent Deanna Brighton once had a career that was headed for the stars. She'd graduated from Quantico when she was twenty-six, after four years as a CPA. When she was twenty-eight, she'd developed a state-of-the-art tracking system to trace illegal financial transactions over the Internet, pooling her unit's resources with the cybercrime unit to create what she'd billed as an impenetrable, foolproof net over child p.o.r.nographers and terrorists, all in one tight, brilliant program.
"I had everything," she muttered to herself. "Until you."
She stared at the thick, worn, unofficial file that she'd been building for years. The official FBI record-the portion that wasn't sealed-was thin.
The faded tab mocked her: ROGAN, SEAN TYLER.
Sean Rogan had hacked into her program and destroyed her life. The arrogance of his actions, that it was no big deal for him to destroy sixteen months of hard work in one day, should have been enough to put him in prison. But he had walked away after a couple of days in jail and a slap on the wrist. That she'd managed to get him expelled from Stanford was no real consolation for the damage he'd done to her career.
Deanna's boss had been furious with her because he'd backed her claims that the system was ready to go wide. After Rogan hacked it, her boss had shut down her program and disbanded her task force. Her colleagues ostracized her because the failure had been public and embarra.s.sing to their unit. She was lucky she hadn't been fired.
That was twelve years ago, and she'd hated Sean Rogan ever since.
Deanna had no idea how thick Rogan's sealed files were. That's the benefit of having friends and family in high places-your crimes were erased. That he also had high security clearance unnerved her, because she'd never have approved him to empty the garbage at FBI headquarters. That his clearance was higher than hers hurt, a twisting hot pain in her gut that the agency she had dedicated her life to trusted a criminal more than her.
She'd spent the last twelve and a half years, since she'd crossed paths with him, building her own file on Rogan. It was largely conjecture and most of it had no legal meaning. But she was learning everything about him. She would catch him breaking the law and it would be so obvious that not even the director of the FBI himself could keep Sean Rogan out of prison.
And if she had to, she'd turn to the media.
She'd tracked Rogan from California to Boston and back to California, but getting the FBI to transfer her had proved difficult. She was always a year behind him. When he moved to D.C. last year she asked for a transfer; the closest she could get was New York City. She took it.
It was fate that Rogan was now in Manhattan. And good news for her that her informant told her something big was about to go down with Colton Thayer's gang of cyberthieves. She'd been tracking Thayer because he was a connection to Rogan. This was no coincidence. Her gut told her Rogan was going to make his big play-and she planned on being there to slap the cuffs on him. She couldn't wait to read him his rights-again. Because this time, he would face serious charges and she'd have cause to open an investigation into everything he'd done in the last twelve years.
Her partner, Steve Gannon, walked by her cubicle, briefcase in hand. "Go home," he told her. "It's late. It's Sat.u.r.day."
She smiled thinly and shook her head. "I want to get this done."
"You're not still going over that security tape?"
"Two days before Sean Rogan arrives in the city for an undetermined stay, my informant tells me he's working with Colton Thayer again and something big is in the works. Then we catch him on tape during a routine surveillance? That's no coincidence." They'd caught Rogan entering the stock exchange even though he had no business there.
"Nothing went down at the exchange that day."
"But there's no record that he's living here. No apartment, no utilities in his name or in the name of RCK East. He's here, but he's off the grid. What's he doing? I guarantee it's not legal."
"We have no tangible proof that Colton Thayer is breaking the law, and no proof that Rogan is involved if he is."
Steve was right, but just because there was no proof didn't mean they weren't guilty. They were guilty of something.
She had to keep Steve on her side. She and Steve had been working together on the white-collar squad since she'd been transferred earlier this year. Though she had four more years in the Bureau than he did, he was the lead agent. He was well liked among everyone in the division and others in the building, while she had continued to make enemies among her peers. She tried to be likable, but she was smart and tenacious and confrontational. And White-Collar generally attracted the type of agents who didn't want to make waves, who didn't want to go out into the field, but preferred to catch bad guys the old-fashioned way-through the paper trail.
She was different. Driven. Bureaucrats didn't like "different."
"Look at these." She slid over a file of pictures she'd taken of Rogan over the last month. "Rogan has met with Colton and his team multiple times." Colton's house, a couple restaurants, walking in Central Park with the blond woman. "If I just had the resources for full surveillance-"
"You pitched your idea and lost. Can your informant get you more? Something tangible? A location or plan?"
"I'm working on it."
Colton Thayer had been on the short list for a myriad of thefts, but nothing stuck. Sean Rogan had been the computer genius behind Thayer when they were at MIT, and though they had hardly spoken in nearly ten years-at least that Deanna could find-that all changed two months ago. Something was going on, and she was going to catch them. She'd turn Colton Thayer on Rogan in a heartbeat-she didn't care about Thayer; he was an ideologue, a hacktivist who wanted to make a political statement. Rogan was far more dangerous.
He was going to pay for damaging her career.
"Deanna-"
"Go home, Steve. I'm fine." She forced herself to relax and smile. "Really, I won't be here more than an hour."
He hesitated. "Just don't get obsessed about this guy. He's not worth throwing away your career."
Steve walked away and Deanna breathed easier. Rogan had almost ruined her once; she was certainly not throwing away her career in pursuing him. He was bad news and would embarra.s.s the FBI when all his crimes came out and she could prove the higher-ups had protected him. It was only a matter of time before she found someone to turn. Steve Gannon was a good agent, but he didn't understand the problem that Rogan had created within the Bureau. He was protected because the princ.i.p.als of RCK, Duke Rogan and JT Caruso, were chummy with the leaders in national headquarters. Deanna had figured that out through old-fashioned research. Caruso had been in the Marines with the a.s.sistant director, Rick Stockton, who had the ear of the director himself. Rogan was married to an FBI agent in Sacramento. Sean's partner, Patrick Kincaid, was related by marriage to several key FBI personnel. But now that Sean had split with RCK, he was fair game. Deanna would build a case against him that was so completely watertight he would suffocate. She couldn't wait to watch him fall.
Once Steve was gone-and Deanna was sure he wasn't coming back-she reopened a file she'd recently uncovered. She didn't want to explain to Steve how she'd gotten it, because he already thought she was obsessing on Rogan.
Lucy Kincaid.
Rogan's girlfriend was his Achilles' heel.
Deanna had learned about Kincaid nine months ago when Rogan had come to New York and worked with one of her colleagues, Suzanne Madeaux, on the Cinderella Strangler investigation. Deanna had only heard about it after the fact-White-Collar didn't talk much with the violent-crimes squad. But she'd read the entire file and found an interesting note about Lucia "Lucy" Kincaid, an FBI candidate a.s.sisting on the case. At first Deanna hadn't thought there was a personal connection-"Kincaid" had been tacked onto the name of "Rogan-Caruso" a few years back, and Deanna had already dug around into Rogan's partner, Patrick Kincaid. But then she learned that Lucy was romantically involved with Rogan.
Deanna had to be very cautious about how she investigated the Kincaids, because every file she came across was secure. To ask for permission would have alerted her boss that she was pursuing something beyond her scope, and she didn't want to be told to stand down. She'd have to defy the order; she would rather do it quietly and ask for forgiveness rather than permission.
But because she didn't want anyone to know she was looking into Lucy Kincaid, it took Deanna months to investigate her. She'd put together a stunning dossier on the new FBI recruit.
Kincaid was an agent at the FBI Academy at Quantico, set to graduate in December. She had a background in both forensics and psychology and had graduated in the top 10 percent of her cla.s.s at Georgetown, then earned a master's in criminal psychology. She'd worked a variety of jobs from congressional aide to a.s.sistant pathologist at the Washington, D.C., Medical Examiner's Office.
She'd also been instrumental in putting a former FBI agent in prison for conspiracy to commit murder.
All this was surface information. Every time Deanna tried to get more than the most superficial intelligence, she hit a brick wall. Sealed records, missing files, redacted pa.s.sages. Lucy Kincaid had secrets. Lots of them. How could the FBI have allowed her to go through the Academy when she was romantically involved with a known computer hacker? And from what Deanna had uncovered, they were pretty serious-serious enough that she figured the best way to get to Rogan was through his girlfriend.
Deanna again looked at the surveillance photos she'd taken in the park. It didn't look like Sean was all that exclusive. She hadn't actually seen Rogan making out with Skye Jansen, but they'd been an item in college. Maybe Rogan broke it off with his girlfriend. That would be even better-Deanna would turn the bitter ex-girlfriend's screws tight until Lucy Kincaid snapped and spilled everything to her about Rogan's new game. And if not? One look at these photos and Lucy Kincaid would tell Deanna everything. A woman scorned looked to revenge. Deanna pulled out the most d.a.m.ning picture and smiled.
Her personal cell phone rang and she smiled even wider when she recognized the caller ID. She'd almost given up that Special Agent Meredith White would do the right thing.
"Deanna Brighton?"
"h.e.l.lo, Meredith. Thank you so much for calling back."
"I gave a lot of thought to our last conversation. Did you tell anyone I spoke to you?"
"No one. I promise, this is between you and me."
"Last month I had a visit from someone in headquarters reminding me that the application process was confidential and asking if I'd spoken to anyone about it. They told me if I said anything I would be reprimanded."
Deanna's mind churned. Why was headquarters hammering this point? Sure, the panels were confidential, but Deanna had served on a hiring panel for a year and it was no big deal.
"I a.s.sure you, anything you tell me is between us." Deanna thought ahead: Meredith was scared, but she was willing-Deanna needed to give her a bone. "I'm investigating Ms. Kincaid's boyfriend, and I believe there may be a security breach. No one in my office, outside of my boss and partner, knows I'm working on this case," she lied smoothly. Steve knew she was pursuing Rogan, but didn't know to what extent. And her boss had only given her permission to spend a limited amount of time on Colton Thayer-she hadn't even told him about Rogan's connection. "I haven't told anyone about our initial contact," she said. "As you know, Rogan's family is connected to headquarters. I need to keep this investigation under the radar until I have incontrovertible proof, or he'll walk again."
Silence. Had she said too much? Sounded too eager? Deanna backtracked. She added, "I probably shouldn't have told you all that. But I want you to trust me, Meredith. I won't get you in any trouble." She held her breath, waiting.
Meredith said, "Tomorrow. Central Park West, across from the Museum of Natural History. Juan agreed to meet with you, and doesn't want to run into anyone from the Bureau."
Deanna's heart raced. "You ask for my confidentiality yet you told someone about our conversation?"
"I'm in D.C. Juan Martinez is a.s.signed to the JFK regional office. He was transferred last month right after being questioned by someone from national headquarters. He thinks his transfer had something to do with the hiring panel-we were disbanded prematurely."
"Who is this girl?" Deanna asked. "The daughter of a director?" Deanna knew she wasn't but hoped Meredith would share some inside information.
"She has a lot of friends in a lot of places. Tread carefully."
Deanna was sick and tired of nepotism and special favors. She'd never gotten a special favor in her life, never had anyone watch her back or protect her. Everything she'd gotten she'd earned-and then to have a weasel like Sean Rogan take everything she'd earned the hard way was unacceptable. He would pay. So would his girlfriend. Deanna would make sure Lucy was kicked out of the Academy if she didn't help put Sean Rogan in prison. No one was above the law. Especially a cop.
"Natural history museum. I'll be there."
She hung up, heart racing. Giddy and nervous. She was close; she felt it in her gut. Once she had the goods on Lucy Kincaid, Deanna would leverage that into evidence against Rogan. If Deanna had to take down Lucy Kincaid before she could take down Sean, she would do it. Collateral damage.
Kincaid should have never gotten involved with a criminal in the first place. Whatever happened from this day on was now Lucy Kincaid's choice. She could choose to side with a criminal and lose her career and her freedom, or she could choose to do the right thing and keep both.
CHAPTER THREE.
Sean was the last to arrive at Colton Thayer's carriage house, an hour after the heist. He strode over to Evan and pinned him to the wall. "You knew it was an RCK security system."
Evan deadpanned him. "I did not."
"Bulls.h.i.t."
"Knock it off." Hunter was ever the peacemaker. "Colton is going to be here any minute."
Sean stared at Evan. "I'm happy to explain to Colton how Evan jeopardized our operation."
Evan pushed Sean and Sean let him walk away. He didn't know how much time he was going to have before Duke showed up in New York. Sean was good-one of the best-but it was an RCK system, a system he'd helped design. If Duke smelled a breach, he'd be on a plane immediately. He wouldn't be able to prove it was Sean, but Sean hadn't made a secret of being in New York. Duke wasn't an idiot; he'd track Sean down, because the lack of evidence would be d.a.m.ning.
"I didn't screw up anything." Evan strode across the polished wood floor to the bar. He opened the mini-fridge and took out a bottle of champagne. "It was a success, all around."
He popped the cork and everyone, except Sean, gathered around the bar for a gla.s.s.
Sean went to the kitchen and retrieved a beer.
Though everything had changed, including some faces, Sean felt like he was back in college. It would have been so easy for him to stick with Colton ten years ago and continue down the wrong path. There were things about their group that Sean missed. The friendship. The excitement. The adrenaline when they collectively figured out how to hack into a system. Sean had become smarter, sharper, and better because of what he'd learned-what they all learned, together. Because of Colton, Hunter, and even Skye if Sean wanted to be honest with himself, he was who he was today-for better or worse.
Yet ... this wasn't college. Evan was new, and Sean didn't care that he'd been with Colton for the last two years-Sean didn't trust him. Carol was even newer to the group and sleeping with Colton. Sean was now considered the outsider, practically a stranger.
He glanced over at Hunter, who was sitting across the room, in the corner of the sectional sofa, not really paying attention to the confrontation. Hunter was smarter than all of them, but he was the stereotypical anti-social nerd. He didn't know how to talk to people on any level other than his. He had a limited wardrobe, and it was Sean who had convinced Hunter when they were in college that daily showers were a necessity. It's not that he was a slob; it's that he didn't think about personal hygiene. Hunter was a good guy and shouldn't have been working for Colton on the wrong side of the law. He could have been making good money at any technology company, except for one roadblock: fear. He liked his longtime group of friends and knowing what was expected of him. The world terrified Hunter. He had a conspiracy theory about everything.
Sean drank half his beer before he rejoined the group in the living room. Skye sauntered over to him with a gla.s.s of champagne. "This is for you."
"I'm fine." He held up his beer and sipped.
"You were amazing," she said. "Like old times."
"This isn't old times." He stared at Skye. It was hard not to let the past creep in and take over. He'd thought he'd loved Skye when they were together. They were both wild, adventurous, and the adrenaline-fueled s.e.x was mind-blowing-but he didn't know what love really meant when he was nineteen and Skye was twenty-one. l.u.s.t plus excitement didn't equal love.
"You used to be so much more fun, Sean." She pouted and ran a finger over his lips.
Sean brushed past her and walked over to the bar. "If Duke comes to New York, he's going to figure out I hacked the system."
Evan stared at him with ice blue eyes. "Not if you're any good. No one should know there was a breach at all. Unless you screwed up."
Sean regretted losing his temper. He had to learn self-control with Evan or risk everything he'd been working toward for the past month.
Hunter grinned at something Skye said to him that Sean couldn't hear. "We rocked," Hunter continued. "It was just like our Indiana Jones days. Remember the system around Professor Houston's museum?"
Skye's eyes twinkled. "For the time, it was state-of-the-art."
"And Sean and I had to work the two separate systems simultaneously to take it down. Even one second off and we would have been busted."
"But you did it," Skye said. "And we returned the artifacts the professor claimed he never found."
"That guy was weird," Hunter said. "Who wants ancient bones in their bedroom, anyway? Creepy."
"The museum that funded the project," Sean said. "Though you're right-Houston was a freak."
For more than two years, the group had been inseparable. Sean, Skye, Colton, and Hunter. But all good things changed-or came to an end.
Sean leaned against the back of the couch and smiled down at Hunter. Hunter would have fit in well at RCK-as long as he never went into the field. He remembered everything he saw and could monitor simultaneous feeds and transmissions better than anyone else Sean knew. Hunter had saved their bacon more than once in his role as surveillance master.
Skye sat down next to Hunter and linked her arm through his. "My favorite job was breaking into the police commissioner's house and reclaiming the drugs he'd stolen from the evidence locker, then putting them back. That was exciting."
"And dangerous," Sean reminded her. "I still think we should have turned him in, not saved his a.s.s."
"It wasn't saved," Hunter said. "He still lost his job over the scandal, but at least those drugs didn't make it out on the street."
"Let's take the champagne and go to the roof," Carol said. She grabbed a second bottle and led the way. Sean retrieved another beer and followed.
It was eleven in the evening and New York was bright with lights. The Upper East Side was quiet and peaceful-a place Sean could easily see himself living. In fact, the narrow carriage house was the type of house Sean could picture for himself and Lucy. Five stories, on the edge of the city, close enough to never feel disconnected, but far enough on the edge for privacy.
Ten years ago, he and Skye, Colton, and Hunter had done a lot of jobs together, things Colton set up. Good jobs-illegal, but not for their own personal gain. Sean had been so invested in their projects, especially after what happened at Stanford. He'd learned a lot about trusting the authorities-namely, they weren't trustworthy.
Colton was picky about which a.s.signments they took and they spent more time planning than anything, but for four geniuses who were bored in school and with life, all with chips on their shoulders, the ability to circ.u.mvent any computer system was heady. They all thought they were G.o.ds, and in some ways they were. They saw a virtual world that could be controlled and manipulated, easier than people. They didn't want or need recognition, except among one another. They went out of their way to avoid attention, or the media.
At least, in the beginning.
"Remember the time we shut down the traffic lights?" Skye said as she lounged under a heat lamp and looked at the night sky. The lights from Manhattan erased all but the brightest stars.