Burying the Past (John Taylor #4) - Chapter 4

As she’d suggested, Taylor and Whitaker found themselves available the next morning as agents continued to run down leads. While Taylor was glad that they were able to keep their appointment, he was also somewhat disappointed.

While he hadn’t lied when he told Whitaker that he was confident one of the people working for Qasim would make a mistake, he also wasn’t as sure as he'd made it sound. While it was true the young people most of these groups recruited to do their dirty work were inexperienced - and, thanks to the somewhat short lifespan of many terrorist leaders, poorly led - there was always a chance Qasim had managed to drill some discipline in the people he found to carry out his current plan.

On top of that, Taylor wasn’t a big fan of meetings in plush offices. It wasn’t something active duty sergeants had to deal with very often in the army, and his post-army life had been less formal than even that. This was more the environment that Whitaker was familiar with, than he was.

Not that he didn’t want to be here. He’d meant it when he told Kara he already thought of her as his family. It surprised him how quickly he’d grown to care for the young woman. Some of it was their experiences in Russia, which had bonded them, and a part was a shared pain of a damaged past, but it was more than that. Taylor wasn’t big on destiny and predetermination, but it felt right for her to be in his life. Inevitable. The same inevitability permeated his feelings about Whitaker, and he couldn’t imagine his life without either woman, although in very different ways.

They were here as part of the steps to honor his promise to get Kara citizenship, but he would have wanted to make their connection official even without that promise. This was, in fact, the happiest he’d felt since walking off that Afghani mountain, even with Qasim back in the States. In fact, it was almost a perfect circle. He’d found the family he thought he’d lost in the desert.

“Is this guy going to make us wait forever,” Taylor said out loud, not letting his thoughts slip into his voice.

He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

“A little while longer, probably,” Whitaker said. “Guys like this like everyone to know how important they are.”

“This ridiculous office does that well enough. I swear, the more important a person gets, the worse their rates get.”

“Mrs. Caldwell’s office isn’t like this,” Kara said from her spot in between Whitaker and Taylor.

“That’s the problem with John’s formula. This kind of ostentation isn’t about power, it’s about insecurity. The Senator is a lot of things, but insecure isn’t one of them.”

“Ostentation?”

“Khvastovstvo,” Taylor translated.

“Ahh. Many of the … I’ve seen weak men pretending to be strong. You think this lawyer is such a man?”

“Not in the same way. This is less about wanting to feel important than wanting to be treated as someone important, although the difference is small. Part of it is also, what's expected by people at certain levels. Mr. Towsen is a very respected lawyer.”

“By respected, she means expensive,” Taylor offered.

“No, but that’s true too. If the Senator hadn’t offered to cover the expenses of this, we’d be in a very different kind of office.”

Taylor opened his mouth to speak when the door opened, and a man in a suit came in.

“Sorry for the delay, I had a conference call that ran long.”

“No problem,” Whitaker said.

They’d all agreed, or rather Whitaker had instructed, and Kara and Taylor had gone along with, the plan that she would do all the talking. Taylor guessed that was for the best anyways since he didn’t suffer fools gladly anymore. Not that this guy was a fool. He’d been professional and courteous in their previous meetings, but something about him rubbed Taylor the wrong way.

“You said on the phone we’d been granted approval for the adoption by family services?”

“Yes. I have to say, I’m pretty astonished. I know Suzette has her hand in parts of this; but even with her prodding, I expected more hurdles on this. I’ve never seen a case of foreign adoption get approved in just six months. It’s even more amazing, considering you two aren’t married. You two must have some kind of pull.”

“Some people owed us favors,” Whitaker said noncommittally.

“I’ll say. We have this stack of paperwork to fill out, but there are a couple of things I’ll point out. I know we’ve discussed it before, but since you’re signing off that you understand all of it, I need to make sure you do, so you don’t come back and sue me out of my Jag later.”

He smiled with what, to Taylor, seemed like an impossible number of brilliantly white teeth.

“First, since you’re unmarried, the adoption is technically only being done by Mr. Taylor. Like I said, under the current law, you could have filed for a civil union instead of marriage, which would have granted you the right of joint adoption, but we went with your decision to have it be a single adoption. I’ll say that makes the approval of this adoption even stranger since family services usually aren’t that big of a fan of girls being adopted by single men. The caseworker I first talked to sounded like she was willing to reject it out of hand, in fact, until she suddenly changed her mind the next day and gave us the sign-off.”

Whitaker and Taylor both knew that Suzette had been behind that, with support from the State Department, who’d been provided by several Russian officials that they’d appreciate it as a sign of appreciation to Taylor, for his ridding them of a criminal organization the higher-ups of their foreign service had been trying to exterminate. Coupled with favorable letters from the current President, several sitting senators - all thanks to Suzette Caldwell - and the Attorney General. They’d been provided by Joe Solomon on Whitaker's behalf.

Taylor wasn’t a fan of the system playing favorites like this, but considering what he owed, and more importantly how he felt about Kara, he accepted the bigfooting of the situation on his behalf. He simply nodded at Townsend when the man looked up at them. He was fishing, trying to figure out for himself why a private detective and an FBI agent, even a rising star like Whitaker, got such preferential treatment.

“Anyway, we also filed paperwork listing Miss Whitaker as Kara’s legal guardian, in addition to the adoption paperwork. Of course, should you two ever get married, Miss Whitaker can apply for adoption separately to become Kara’s legally adopted mother, rather than just a step-parent and guardian.”

“I understand,” Whitaker said.

“Now, for the name. I wanted to make it clear to Miss Kara that she has the option to keep her current last name, or take John’s last name. I know you indicated the latter, but I wanted to make sure you understood, since our filing will include a name change as well. It is, of course, possible to change it back; but, you’d have a bunch of hoops to jump through.”

“I want a new name to go with new life. I’m not that other girl, anymore.”

Townsend frowned at the mixture of anger and sadness in Kara’s voice, but looked down and made a note. Taylor placed a hand on her arm. She shot a glare at him, which softened once they made eye contact.

“Yes, I understand,” she said much more calmly. “I want a new name, thank you.”

“Uhh … right. So that will take a few days to process, but since your visa was issued temporarily and you have no current records, it's actually easier to register everything under Kara Taylor, rather than the other way and then alter it. Now, I’ve marked off all the places you need to sign or initial. Anything with the blue tab is for Mr. Taylor, anything in yellow for Miss Whitaker, and anything in pink by Kara. Let's do this from left to right, and we should have everything signed off shortly.”

He handed a page to Whitaker, who signed off in the indicated place and passed the document to Kara, who did the same. After Taylor signed on the page, he put it to one side, which quickly became a stack in its own right. Towsend’s 'shortly' turned out to be just over thirty minutes, but finally they were done.

“This finishes up the adoption process. It’ll be official once we submit the finalized paperwork to the court, since they have already signed off on our petition.”

Taylor looked down at Kara who, he was surprised to see, had tears in her eyes.

“Now that this is cleared up, the only thing left is getting this all signed off on, and, since you’re old enough, taking your citizenship oath,” Townsend continued. “There’s one scheduled at the end of the week, and we should be able to get Kara’s name on the list.”

They’d hired him - or rather Suzette Caldwell had hired him - to represent Kara in getting her citizenship, as well as the adoption process. His primary experience had been as an immigration attorney, but they’d had an attorney specializing in family services who’d handled most of the legwork on the adoption.

“So I’ll be a citizen at the end of the week?”

“Yes. You’ve taken all the tests needed and, thanks to an unusually helpful FBI, you’ve passed the USCIS checks. I understand they had some concerns based around your … previous guardians, but after a conversation with both the FBI and State Department, they discounted those concerns and approved your application. Again, the fact this is happening so fast is more than just unheard of. Had someone asked me before I met you all if Kara’d be able to get her citizen in just six months, especially when an adoption needed to happen first, I’d have said you’re crazy. I know you folks know Suzette, but this seems beyond even what I’d expect her to be able to push through.”

“John’s done a few things that’ve earned him some goodwill,” Whitaker offered.

“I see,” Townsend said, looking over at Taylor.

For his part, Taylor kept his face impassive. While not much of what they did was secret in any way, it was best not to advertise some of the stuff he’d been up to. Especially the business in Russia.

“Well, I need to get my secretary to get all this sent over to the court, so they can process it by the end of the day. I’ll be in touch about the swearing-in ceremony.”

After a few handshakes, the three were hustled out of the office.

“How about we go out for dinner and celebrate,” Whitaker said.

“Steak?”

Kara had her first real, American steak the month before, and since had become insatiable. Lately, it had been her only suggestion when they talked about dinner.

“For tonight, sure.”

“Can I invite Mary Jane?”

“Sure,” Taylor said.

Kara squealed and clapped her hands, seeming like any average American teenager. Taylor couldn’t help but smile as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed. A rapid-fire conversation ended with Mary Jane agreeing to meet them at the restaurant.

Of course, both Taylor and Whitaker knew it was more than that. They were within the last six months before the election, and the Senator had gone under Secret Service protection when she picked up the Republican nomination. That included protection for Mary Jane, which meant they’d have to send an agent into the restaurant a few minutes ahead of time. It wasn’t as bad as if they’d been with the Senator, who had a whole army of suit-wearing people swarming around her. Mary Jane came with a couple of agents when she was out of the house, and places she went didn’t need to be highly vetted.

Still, Whitaker gave the restaurant a call, both to get a reservation and a heads up about the circus they were about to inherit. Taylor thought the reservation was a little redundant, once they'd heard it was Suzette Caldwell’s daughter coming. Places in Washington prided themselves in serving the highest political names they could manage, and the daughter of a candidate for President was a pretty good get. Taylor doubted they’d have trouble getting a reservation.

They got to the restaurant before Mary Jane, although an agent was there, who they recognized from the few times she and Kara socialized outside of the Senators townhouse. The manager hustled them to a table in one corner of the fancy steakhouse, away from the windows and able to be partially secluded by her agents.

Mary Jane showed up a few minutes later, with the rest of her security detail. Whitaker and Taylor let the girls catch up on their day, chatting away. Mary Jane was four years older than Kara; but she’d missed out on a lot of her teenage years to partying, and delinquency, which is how she’d ended up crossing paths with Taylor the previous winter.

Taylor wasn’t sure if it was the shared experiences - although much less so, in Mary Jane’s case - or Mary Jane feeling an obligation to the girl who’d helped save her, but she’d accepted the younger girl without question. As far as Taylor could tell, she genuinely cared for Kara, which Taylor thought was good, for both their sakes. Both girls benefited from their friendship; getting past not just their trauma, but in Mary Jane’s case, also getting over past poor choices.

They chatted on throughout their meal. Whitaker, and Taylor were looking back and forth as if it was a tennis match until dessert arrived, and the girls turned their attention back to the adults.

“So it’s official?” Mary Jane asked.

“Yep. I am now officially Kara Taylor.”

“That’s great. I’m so happy for you, K.”

“Thanks,” Kara said, looking quickly at Taylor before looking away just as quickly.

Taylor knew enough about Kara that he knew she really wanted the adoption to happen once she’d gotten comfortable with him and Loretta. He knew one of her dreams when she’d been in the hands of those monsters, was that her family would show up and take her away from everything. He'd bet she’d told Mary Jane about that dream.

“Don’t be so happy. Now that she’s officially part of the family; she’s gotta clean her room, and wash the dishes, and …”

A wadded napkin whacked him in the nose as Kara laughed.

“I was thinking next time the old people are out of town I’d … what was the word you said, throw a rager?”

“Is someone being a bad influence?” Taylor asked Mary Jane.

She saw the twinkle in his eye and knew he was kidding.

“Ohh, I don’t have to be a bad influence on K. She’s her own bad influence. Like, last week …”

Kara threw a hand over Mary Jane’s mouth, making the rest of the sentence just mumbles. She then quickly withdrew her hand, and wiped it on her jeans. Her friend was grinning wickedly at her.

“I don’t think this old person wants to know the rest of that sentence.”

“Psssht,” Mary Jane said with a wave. “You’re not old. You should see the fossils who come by to see my mom. Now those people are old.”

“So have you signed up for classes this semester, Mary?” Whitaker asked.

“No. We talked about it, and Mom agreed to let me start back in the Spring semester. She wouldn’t say it, but I talked to her campaign manager. Fred said they could use me campaigning for her as it gets close to the election. Plus, I’d like to take a little longer to get my head straight.”

Kara reached across and took her friend's hand, giving it a squeeze.

“How’s that going?” Taylor, who definitely didn’t follow politics, asked.

“Good. Mom’s ahead in the polls, although the Governor’s starting to get nasty. He’s digging through every business deal Mom ever made before she entered politics, and is trying to make all of them sound like she’s the devil standing over people handcuffed to benches making coal or whatever while she held a whip.”

'The Governor,' in this case, was the Democratic candidate for President Gerald Caine, the current governor of California.

“She’s been through this before though, right?” Whitaker asked. “Campaigning, I mean.”

“Yeah. Most of what he’s bringing up was thrown at her when she ran for Senator, the last time. Mom says they’ll hope people outside of South Carolina don’t pay attention to how it was debunked back then since they’ve basically written off the Carolina’s as solidly in her corner.”

“Makes sense. Do you think ….” Whitaker started to say when a flash surprised all of them.

Taylor’s hand went to the small of his back where he kept his currently empty holster, the weapon being turned over to the Secret Service to make them feel better. As an active member of law enforcement, they let Whitaker keep her weapon.

It was quickly apparent that the surprise was in the form of a man holding a camera, being hustled out by one of Mary Jane’s agents.

“I should call Mom,” Mary Jane said.

“Is everything alright?” Whitaker asked.

“Yeah, but that guy’ll sell the picture to a bunch of papers in the morning. Fred warned me that if someone snapped my picture, and I was with anyone or doing anything other than praying or reading a textbook, I needed to call him and let him know.”

“Why?” Kara asked.

“Her opponent will look at the pictures and try to figure out if anyone Mrs. Caldwell’s daughter was socializing with, was juicy enough to make an issue of it.”

“Do you think that I’ll be …”

“No, sweetie,” Mary Jane said.

“We should talk to your mom as well,” Whitaker said.

Taylor knew what she was thinking, although neither would say it out loud where Kara could hear them. They’d all been purposefully careful not to overly associate with the Senator, or her daughter in public. Kara’s past could be made, if presented in the wrong light, into something they could use to attack the Senator.

Taylor wasn’t sure why they hadn’t thought about it this time. Maybe it was because they were all so excited about the adoption process being complete or finding out that Kara was about to become a citizen, but neither of them had thought about it. Now that seemed like a mistake.

Taylor was about to suggest they all leave when Whitaker’s phone rang.

“Whitaker,” she said when she answered. “Where? How long ago? Do we have … Ok. I’ll be in the office in fifteen minutes.”

She hung up and looked over at Taylor.

“The card that was used to rent the car in Tuscon was just used again.”

“Where?”

“A McDonald's in Tennessee, of all places. We need to get back to the office.”

“Should I be going with Mary?” Kara asked.

“No. There’ll be people watching for us to leave, hoping for more photos. Since there’s a chance they’ll try and follow us when we leave, it’s probably best if you went with us to the office with us. We might not be too long; and if we are, we can find someone to run you home.”

“Ok,” Kara said, somewhat mutedly.

“It’ll be ok. They’re right, though, I should head home and talk to Mom.”

The two redheads hugged, and Mary Jane was hustled out of the restaurant. Taylor paid for the check, and they headed out as well. Sure enough, they saw the guy with the camera outside, who snapped their picture as they got into their SUV and pulled out. After a few minutes, Taylor was certain they were being followed, probably with hopes of tracking them to their home to figure out who these three people with Caldwell’s daughter were.

Considering this vehicle was assigned to Whitaker by the Bureau, with a license that would track back to the Bureau, and they were heading to the Hoover building, following them wouldn’t help their pursuers that much. Taylor was equally certain that wouldn’t matter, and someone would figure out who they were. Whitaker was enough of a rising star, that someone would pick her out of the picture; and Taylor had been in the news enough times with the various jobs he’d taken, that it wouldn’t take them that much longer to put a name to his face, either.

He just hoped they didn’t find out much about Kara, for her sake. She was just starting to get better, and the last thing they needed was people looking to score points off of her.

They got a pass for Kara, Taylor didn’t need one since he’d been issued temporary credentials and dropped her off in Whitaker's office before heading to the conference room that had been taken over by Crawford.

They found the man in the conference room, freshly back from Tucson.

“How was your hunt?” Taylor asked.

“John,” Whitaker warned.

“No, it’s alright, Loretta,” Crawford said, holding up a hand. “He was right, they were long gone. I should’ve listened, but I dug in my heels. Had you guys not been along, I probably would have come straight back, too.”

Taylor was surprised. In his experience, bureaucrats like Crawford had about zero self-awareness and never admitted when they were wrong. A semblance of self-awareness pushed the man a few steps up in Taylor’s book.

“So one of these guys used the same card in Tennessee? That’s luckier than I’d hoped we’d get,” Taylor said.

“I thought you said you expected one of the people Qasim ‘borrowed’ to screw up and give them away?”

“I did; but not this fast, and not this blatantly. While it’s true other groups Qasim is drafting off of aren’t as disciplined or well trained as his people, they all have some level of operational security. Using the credit card they used to rent a car again at a fast food restaurant is beyond what I expected from them.”

“The one thing we relying on in law enforcement, more than anything else, is that criminals are, by and large, stupid,” Crawford said.

“Did they report anyone else with this guy?”

“No, just the one guy. The car wasn’t tinted so they could see there was no one there, either. We got the video from their security system, a few minutes ago. Some of my guys are going over it now, but we have another piece of good luck. The guy is driving another rental.”

“Right this second?” Whitaker asked.

“Yep.”

“Why is that a big deal?” Taylor asked at seeing Whitaker’s excited expression.

“All the major rental companies low-jack their cars, these days. If he’s driving it right now, we’ll know exactly where this guy is.”

“Great,” Taylor said. “So what’s the plan?”

“We’ll know any minute if the car has a tracker on it. We’ve already started drawing up the warrant to get the company to turn over access info on the car. Agents are already staging in the area for when we get it.”

“You’re going to put on a tail?” Whitaker asked.

“Yes. Better to see who he talks to and maybe get a lead on Qasim then grab the driver now and drive the rest to ground.”

“We should…” Taylor started.

Crawford held up a hand and said, “We’re already gassing up the plane. We were really just waiting on you two.”

“What if they don’t have a tracker?”

“We’ll just turn the plane around. I’d rather waste some gas, then waste time waiting here.”

“A man after my own heart,” Taylor said, slapping Crawford on the shoulder.

“Let's go ahead and head over. They’ll call us as soon as they confirm they have the warrant.”

“We need someone to run our … daughter, home,” Whitaker said with a slight pause as she tried out the unfamiliar phrase.

“Daughter?” Crawford said, surprised.

“Long story, I’ll explain on the plane. She’s in my office.”

“Sure, I’ll get Al to give her a ride.”

“Great, let’s get going,” Taylor said.

They stopped and said goodbye to Kara on the way out, putting emphasis on their trusting her to stay at home by herself. She seemed to think they were being silly but accepted the fussing. Taylor got the distinct impression that she secretly liked the attention.

On the plane, Whitaker explained Kara to Crawford, while Taylor stayed mostly silent. This led to an extended explanation, or in many cases, a noncommittal ‘I can’t talk about that,’ about the events surrounding how Kara ended up following Taylor home from Russia. Unfortunately, Crawford zeroed in on the one part of the explanation that Taylor had wanted to avoid.

“So you went to Russia originally, to find this other girl, right? The thing with the girl you adopted happened later, right?”

“Yeah,” Taylor answered non committedly.

“I’ve dealt with the Russians several times over the years, and I’ve never found them terribly accommodating to US investigators chasing suspects on Russian soil. I can’t imagine they’d be more accommodating to a private investigator, doing the same thing they don’t want federal agents doing. How’d you manage to get permission?”

“They didn’t want these guys operating in their backyard, any more than we would,” Taylor said, knowing it wasn’t going to divert Crawford.

“We wouldn’t let Russians clear up problems in our borders any more than the Russians would let us. Come to think of it, while Loretta did a good job glossing over the details, it sure sounds like you ended up shooting some people while you were over there. How come you're you not sitting in a Russian prison right now.”

“That happened in Belarus, not Russia.”

“And yet, when I looked up our file on you, I didn’t notice any Interpol or Belarusian warrants outstanding for you.”

“Some interested parties helped me out.”

“Who would those interested parties happen to be?”

“I can’t say, and I’m not even sure I would tell you if I could. I’m not a suspect you’re investigating.”

“Hey,” Crawford said, holding up his hands defensively “this is just a friendly conversation. I’m just curious.”

“You’ll just have to live with your curiosity.”

“Fair enough,” the larger man said, staring out the plane window.

After a few moments, without looking back at Taylor, he said, “I can’t help but wonder though, if those same people are how you ended up on this task-force.”

Taylor didn’t answer, but he knew this wasn’t the end of it. Crawford wasn’t openly hostile to him anymore, but he still had a civil servant's dislike of interlopers in his domain. Taylor knew the man would keep picking at this particular itch.