Chapter 5: The Man Who Already Knew
Savannah kept her voice completely flat.
"Who is this?"
"You already know," the man said.
"Greer called me.
You were right there when he did it, weren't you."
Reyes glanced at her from the driver's seat.
She held up one finger.
He looked back at the road.
"Harlan Briggs," she said.
"That's right." A pause.
Not nervous.
Comfortable.
The pause of a man who believed he was holding the better hand.
"I want you to know I don't have any hard feelings about what happened back there.
Greer gets excited.
He's always been like that.
I told him a long time ago it was going to cause him problems."
"Why are you calling me, Mr.
Briggs?"
"Because I think there's been a misunderstanding about what I do and what I don't do.
And I think if we have a conversation like two reasonable adults, you're going to find out that whatever file you have on me is missing some important context."
"I'm happy to hear your context," Savannah said.
"Come in and give a formal statement."
He laughed.
It was an easy laugh.
The laugh of someone who had talked his way out of rooms before and remembered it fondly.
"I think we both know that's not how I want to have this conversation.
I'm thinking something more informal.
You come to the yard, we sit down, I make you a coffee, and you hear me out.
Then you decide what you think."
"You're inviting a federal agent to your place of business to have an informal conversation."
"I am.
Because I have nothing to hide.
And because I think you're smart enough to know that whatever you've been told about me is coming from people who have their own reasons for pointing a finger somewhere."
Savannah watched the road.
Fields on both sides.
A water tower in the distance.
A hawk sitting on a fence post, perfectly still.
"Who do you think gave us your name, Mr.
Briggs?"
Another pause.
This one was not comfortable.
"I have my suspicions," he said carefully.
"Tell me."
"In person.
Come to the yard.
Give me one hour."
"And if I say no?"
His voice stayed easy, but something in the texture of it changed.
Very slightly.
The way a rope looks the same until the moment it doesn't.
"Then I think we both lose something we don't need to lose," he said.
"I'd rather not go that route."
Savannah looked at Reyes.
Reyes kept his eyes on the road.
Twelve miles had become seven.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," she said.
"I'll put some coffee on."
The call ended.
Reyes spoke without looking at her.
"You want me to call Torres?"
"Already texting her." Savannah's thumbs moved on the phone.
"He's trying to read what I know and what I don't know.
He also wants to see my face when he mentions whoever gave us his name."
"He thinks we were pointed at him deliberately."
"He thinks he's the target of someone else's play.
He might even be partly right."
Reyes slowed as a crossroads appeared ahead.
"Route 9 junction.
Half mile."
"He'll have someone watching for us from the moment we turn in," Savannah said.
"Drive slow.
Don't stop until we reach the gate.
Let them get a good look."
"And if the two men at the gate decide they don't like what they see?"
"They won't.
Harlan just called me.
He wants this meeting." She tucked her phone into her jacket.
"He thinks he's about to charm his way out of four months of federal investigation."
She looked at the faded sign as they turned through the gate.
BRIGGS TRANSPORT.
Blue paint, peeling at the corners.
Two men stood on either side.
Neither smiled.
Both watched Reyes's hands and not his face.
The yard opened up behind the gate — gravel lot, two large steel buildings, a row of freight containers lined along the far fence.
A man stood in the middle of the lot with his hands in his jacket pockets.
Average height.
Silver at the temples.
A face that had spent a lot of time looking pleasant on purpose.
Harlan Briggs walked toward the SUV as it stopped.
He opened Savannah's door himself.
"Agent Cole," he said.
"Thank you for coming."
She stepped out.
She did not offer her hand.
He didn't offer his either.
They understood each other already.
"You said you had context for me," she said.
"I do." He gestured toward the nearest building.
"Come inside.
It's warmer."
She followed him.
The two gate guards fell in behind her without being asked.
Reyes stayed in the SUV.
Inside, the building was half office, half storage.
Metal shelving.
Stacked boxes with freight labels.
A folding table with a coffee maker that had seen better years.
Briggs poured two cups without asking.
He set one in front of her.
She left it on the table.
He sat down across from her and folded his hands.
"The person who gave you my name," he said.
"It was Rourke, wasn't it."
Savannah watched his face.
"Captain Rourke has been building something for a long time," Briggs continued.
"And when it started to come apart, he needed somewhere to put the weight.
I've known Dwight Rourke for eleven years.
I know exactly what he's capable of."
"Tell me."
"He's the one running product through this county, Agent Cole.
May you like
Not me." He leaned forward slightly.
"And I can prove it."
