Behind the Mask

  Copyright

  BEHIND THE MASK © copyright 2016 by Dana Ridenour.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, by photography or xerography or by any other means,

  by broadcast or transmission, by translation into any kind of language,

  nor by recording electronically or otherwise, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in

  critical articles or reviews.

  Print ISBN 13: 978-1-63489-903-1

  e-book ISBN 13: 978-1-63489-902-4

  Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2015960614

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: 2016

  20 19 18 17 16 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover and interior design by James Monroe Design, LLC.

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  Reseller discounts available.

  Visit: DanaRidenour.net

  Dedication

  To Mom,

  Who gave me my first book.

  To Dad,

  Who gave me my strength.

  To Bill,

  Who gave me my wings.

  Prologue

  May 2011 - Federal Bureau of Investigation,

  Los Angeles Field Office

  Savannah shivered in the frigid interrogation room of the Los Angeles FBI Field Office. A cold metal handcuff dug sharply into her left wrist. The door opened, and a man and a woman, both wearing dark suits and FBI tags dangling from lanyards, entered. They sat across from Savannah with somber expressions on their faces.

  “Savannah, I’m Special Agent Adam Harper, and this is my partner, Katherine Summers.”

  Savannah nodded.

  “Before I read you your rights, you need to listen closely to what I’m about to tell you. You have two choices right now. You are facing a lifetime behind bars in a federal penitentiary, and this will be your only opportunity to save yourself.”

  Savannah shifted in her seat.

  Agent Harper continued, “The federal justice system is like a fast-moving locomotive. You can either get on the train, or you can get run over. Agent Summers and I have discussed your situation at length, and we both believe that you’re a nice girl from South Carolina who got involved with events that spiraled out of your control.”

  Agent Summers made eye contact with Agent Harper and crossed her arms but remained silent.

  Savannah tried desperately to control her breathing.

  “We want to help you, but for us to do that, you have to help yourself. You have to be willing to talk to us and be completely honest. If you agree to talk to us, we’ll let the United States attorney who is prosecuting this case know that you’re cooperating with law enforcement. If you choose not to talk to us, we will transport you to the federal courthouse, turn you over to the US Marshals Service for processing, and place you in a federal prison. I can’t emphasize enough how important it is that you make the correct choice. You’re facing extremely serious charges, and you could potentially spend the rest of your life in prison.”

  Hot tears rolled down Savannah’s cheeks.

  Agent Harper leaned forward. “You’re charged with conspiracy to violate the Animal Enterprise Terrorism Act, conspiracy to commit arson, and felony murder.”

  The room started to spin. Savannah choked down the bile in the back of her throat.

  Agent Harper continued, “This is what’s going to happen, Savannah. I’m going to read you your rights. If you choose to talk to us, I’ll get you a cup of coffee and you can tell us your side of the story from the beginning. But remember, you do not want to get run over by this train.”

  He began to read Savannah her rights. She listened to the words without comprehending their meaning. Then Agent Harper asked her a question she never thought she would be asked: “Savannah Riley, do you understand your rights as they have been read to you, and are you willing to talk to us now without a lawyer being present?”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alexis

  May 2010 - New Orleans, Louisiana

  FBI Special Agent Alexis Montgomery—or Lexie, as she preferred to be called—strutted down the hall with newfound confidence; she had just completed an arduous two-week undercover certification course in Virginia. Built like a runner, the petite twenty-nine-year-old had come into work to tie up a few loose ends before leaving for her temporary undercover assignment in Los Angeles.

  Lexie’s squad supervisor, Mark Clarkson, a former undercover agent himself, supported her decision to join the undercover program. Mark was a rarity in the FBI: a supervisor who encouraged and cared about the agents under his command.

  Lexie lightly rapped on the doorframe. “Hey there, boss.”

  Mark looked up and smiled. “Congratulations, Lexie! Come, have a seat. I heard you did great.”

  “I don’t know about great, but I survived.”

  “Well, you should be proud of yourself. Undercover training is grueling. You passed and made the SAC look good, too.”

  Lexie laughed. “I still have a few bruises to show for it.”

  Mark looked sheepish. “I know. I wish I could’ve prepared you a little more for it. Once you go through the school, you’re prohibited from talking about it.”

  Lexie nodded. “I understand. I’m glad that I did it and survived it, but I never want to do it again.”

  “I’m proud of you, Lex. How many people washed out?”

  “About half.”

  He nodded. “We lost about half when I went through the school ten years ago. Nice to see it hasn’t changed. It takes a tough person to make it through, and you did.”

  “You know what’s funny about undercover school?” Lexie said. “As an agent you spend years learning how to be an FBI agent. Learning how to walk the walk and talk the talk. Undercover school has to deprogram all those behaviors and mannerisms out of the agent since most streetwise criminals can spot a cop a mile away.”

  “Sometimes the simple things can blow your cover,” Mark said. “You know, like always backing into parking spots or refusing to sit with your back to a door.”

  Lexie nodded. “By the way, thanks for going to bat for me with the front office. I know the SAC didn’t want to give up a person for this assignment. I appreciate you fighting for me.”

  “I think you’re going to be a great undercover agent.” Mark smirked. “You’ve got a bit of a hippie streak. You’ll fit right in with those crazy vegans. Just don’t fit in too much and go over to the dark side. Promise me you’ll sneak away and eat a cheeseburger occasionally.”

  Lexie laughed. “I’m only vegan for the case. I promise that when I return, you and I will go out and eat the biggest burger in New Orleans.”

  Mark’s expression turned somber. “Just be careful. These extremist cells are paranoid and suspicious of everyone. If your gut tells you something is amiss, trust your instincts.”

  “I’ll be careful. I’ve been doing research on the Animal Liberation Front. They have a super strict security culture. Members never discuss their actions with anyone who doesn’t have a need to know, and they never discuss anything of a criminal nature over the telephone or on the Internet. I’m gonna have my work cut out for me.”

  “It’ll be a challenge, but you’re up for it. Can I offer you a piece of advice?”

  “Of course.”

  “Make sure the case agent assigns you a good contact agent. You need
someone that you feel comfortable with and who will dedicate himself or herself to your safety.”

  “I’ll make sure.”

  “I know they taught you about contact agents in the school, but speaking from personal experience, a good contact agent can save your life or, at a minimum, your sanity. The contact agent is your lifeline, Lexie. He or she is your tether to the real world. Understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “Is there anything you need me to handle for you while you’re gone?” Mark asked.

  “Thanks, but I think I’m all set. The first two weeks are some sort of meet-and-greet trip. When I get back, I’ll take care of any loose ends with my apartment or casework. My apartment lease is ending at the end of this month, so I’m moving everything into storage until this case ends. Figured I might as well save a little money on rent.”

  “You might fall in love with LA and decide to stay out there and take up surfing,” Mark joked.

  “Oh, I doubt it. You know me. I love the South. I’m not sure I could survive that far away from my peeps. Plus, I couldn’t give up this good Cajun food.”

  “Let me know if you need anything from back here. I’ve reassigned your cases and informants to Matt. He probably won’t give them back to you when you return.”

  Lexie laughed. “No worries; there are plenty more cases where those came from.” She stood. “I’m going to attempt to conquer my e-mail. Wanna grab lunch later? I could use all the undercover advice you care to impart on me.”

  Mark smiled. “Sure. Now that you’re an official member of the undercover inner circle, I’ll give up some trade secrets.”

  * * * * *

  Los Angeles, California

  The plane bounced down the runway after landing at LAX. Lexie gathered her overstuffed backpack and purse from the overhead bin. The case agent, Adam Harper, was scheduled to meet her at the baggage claim. Even though Lexie had never met Adam, she figured she could pick him out of a crowd. He would probably be wearing those stupid 5.11 tactical pants that every male FBI agent liked to strut around in. Lexie despised them. The durable cotton pants had numerous pockets and reinforced knees, which the male agents loved. On Lexie’s small frame, the overly baggy knees gave her a clownish appearance, so she refused to wear them for anything other than firearms.

  Lexie had packed enough clothes to stay for two weeks. She planned to familiarize herself with the area and finalize any further backstopping that might be necessary for her alias. Backstopping was the term the FBI used to ensure that an undercover’s alias passed muster if a subject researched it.

  Special Agent Adam Harper patiently waited at the baggage claim, wearing 5.11 tactical pants and a black T-shirt just as Lexie expected.

  “Alexis?” Adam asked.

  “Yes,” Lexie responded.

  “I’m Adam Harper. Here, let me take your backpack for you.”

  Lexie handed it to him. “Thanks. I go by Lexie. How’d you recognize me?”

  “I am a trained investigator,” he said with a smile. “There’s also a photo of you in the case file.”

  Lexie laughed.

  They walked over to the luggage carousel to retrieve Lexie’s suitcase. Lexie noticed Adam’s receding hairline and guessed him to be in his mid to late thirties. He was in reasonably good condition, but Lexie found it annoying that he was wearing his sunglasses on the back of his head like so many of the young guys.

  “How was your trip?” Adam asked.

  “Uneventful.”

  “That’s all you can ask for,” Adam said. “Are you

  hungry?”

  “Starving,” Lexie answered.

  “You like pizza?”

  “Love it.”

  “Great. I know a fantastic pizza joint not far from here.”

  It took thirty minutes in traffic to drive the short distance to the pizza parlor. The hostess seated them at a quiet corner table. The smell of garlic and freshly baked bread filled the air.

  “What kind of pizza do you like?” Adam asked.

  “I’ve never met a pizza I didn’t like.”

  “Since you won’t be getting any meat or cheese for awhile, how about a meat lovers’?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  The server brought their drinks and took the dinner order.

  “How long have you been in the FBI?” Adam asked with a slight smile. “You don’t look old enough to be an agent.”

  Lexie chuckled. “I get that all the time. I’ve been an agent for five years. I was lucky enough to get in the door when I was twenty-four.”

  Adam looked surprised. “Wow, that’s young. I think the average age in my academy class was twenty-nine.”

  “My class too,” Lexie said. “I was the youngest and the smallest person in my class.”

  “How did you get in so young? Sorry, I don’t mean to be such an inquisitor. One of the pitfalls of being an agent.”

  Lexie laughed. “I did an honors internship the summer before my senior year in college. That helped to get me in the door quicker. I already had top secret clearance.”

  The server brought the pizza and refilled their drink glasses.

  “This pizza looks delicious,” Lexie acknowledged.

  “The pizza here never disappoints. What made you want to become an undercover agent?”

  Lexie took a bite of hot pizza and immediately reached for her water glass.

  “Damnit, I hate when I burn the roof of my mouth,” she said after she washed down the hot bite. “Why did I become an undercover? I guess because my supervisor was an undercover agent, and listening to his stories made me want to get into the program. What about you? Any desire to do any undercover work?”

  “No. I’m a relief supervisor for the squad, and I’m hoping to get a supervisor position in the next few years.”

  “So, you’re on the management track,” Lexie said.

  “Yes. What about you? Any aspirations of being a supervisor?”

  Lexie groaned. “Ugh, no way. I’m not ready for a desk job.”

  “So why did you join the FBI?” Adam asked between bites.

  “You’ll laugh if I tell you.”

  “No, I won’t. Tell me.”

  “When I was in high school, we took a band trip to Washington, DC. We toured FBI headquarters, and I knew that I wanted to become an agent. I guess you could say that tour changed the course of my life. I was fifteen years old.”

  Adam snickered. “You were in band?”

  “Oh, shut up. I knew you’d laugh. What about you?”

  “My dad was an agent. He retired as a special agent in charge two years ago.”

  Adam took a drink of his soda and continued, “Anyway, enough personal stuff. We have a ton of things to cover in the next two weeks. We wanted to hit the ground running, so we had an older undercover agent in the division pose as your uncle and rent an apartment for you. I think you’re going to like the location. It’s within walking distance of the beach.”

  “Seriously? That’s fucking awesome!”

  “It’s in Venice Beach, which is a weird hippie eclectic area. Venice is perfect, since so many of the targets either live or hang out in that area.”

  They finished dinner, and Adam drove Lexie to the apartment.

  “By the way, this is an undercover vehicle. You don’t have to worry about the tag coming back to the bureau. Once you get settled and working, I won’t come to your apartment. Your contact agent will stop by periodically, but you won’t see much of me. Your contact agent was selected because she has undercover experience and looks nothing like a cop. She won’t have any problem blending in.

  “So my contact agent is a woman?”

  “Yes. You’ll meet her tomorrow.”

  “Great. I can’t wait to get started,” Lexie stated.

  “
I’m glad you’re excited.” Adam pulled up in front of a small apartment complex. Nothing fancy, but it looked safe.

  “Ready to see your new pad?”

  “Of course I am.”

  They stopped in front of apartment three zero one and Adam used the key to open the door.

  “After you,” he said.

  The sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment contained a bed, dresser, couch, and TV. It was stocked with all the necessities: pots, pans, towels, and sheets. Luckily, the agent who furnished the apartment remembered toilet paper. The kitchen cabinets were old and chipped, but the appliances worked. The carpet was worn thin and frayed around the front entrance.

  Lexie nodded. “It’ll work.”

  “We didn’t want to get too fancy, but we wanted it comfortable for you. There’s a small workout room around the corner.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Let me show you the secret squirrel stuff,” Adam said. He led Lexie to the bedroom closet. “There’s a false wall in the back of this closet. I’ll show you how it works.” They entered the closet. Adam pushed the corner of the back wall, which opened to reveal a hidden safe.

  “Nice,” Lexie said.

  “You can keep your laptop, gun, and badge in the safe. It’s also stocked with several kinds of body recorders for you to use. Ready for the combination?” Lexie nodded and instantly memorized the combination he repeated.

  Adam shook her hand. “I’ll let you get some rest. You have to be exhausted after traveling all day.” He handed her the keys to the apartment. “The mailbox key is on this ring too.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “I’ll pick you up about nine in the morning. We’ll chip away at our to-do list.”

  After he left, Lexie, exhausted and battling jet lag, immediately fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  Because of the different time zone, Lexie awoke at the crack of dawn. She showered, dressed, and killed time watching the morning news. Her phone chimed.

  On my way. Pick you up in thirty minutes.

  Adam wasn’t alone when he arrived. A woman with jet-black hair was with him. “Morning, Lexie,” Adam said. “Did you have everything you needed last night?”