Read Endangered Species: PART 1 for Free Online

spots attested.
    He thought about his
conversation with Tom Burkhardt. He instinctively liked Tom. Maybe
it was just professional respect, but it seemed like more. Tom was
more than just competent and intelligent. He picked up on things
quickly and seemed genuinely interested in the well being of his
fellow law enforcement officers. He felt comfortable with him and
sensed he may have found a friend. This thing with the Ramirez
woman, however, made him a little uncomfortable. He didn’t feel he
was ready to start dating, even though he knew Deborah had begun
seeing other men. It’s been such a long
time since I’ve been with any woman other than
Deborah , he thought. Would he know what to
say, what to do? Worse yet, what if it came down to intimacy and he
was unable to perform? He feared his current physical and emotional
conditions might be an impediment. That’s
the kind of thing , he thought, and gritted
his teeth, that would spread like wildfire
through the law enforcement community . He’d
have to think of some way to graciously avoid involvement. Besides,
he was working on a personal project that was more important to him
than anything else in his life at this time.
    It was after nine o’clock in the evening and
Christie had mixed feelings about returning to the office. If
Wojakowski was still here, her presence would prevent him from
doing what he was there to do. On the other hand, it might impress
her favorably if it appeared he was putting in long hours. He
hadn’t seen her car in the parking lot, but he walked past her
office just to be certain. The door was closed and no light seeped
from beneath it. He breathed a sigh of relief.
    Entering his own office,
Christie closed and locked the door behind him. He sat at his desk
and fired up his computer. Mumbling under his breath, he said, “Now
comes the tricky part.” He browsed to a chat room established
by INTERPOL Washington, the United States
National Central Bureau. It served as the designated representative
to INTERPOL on behalf of the Attorney General and was the official
U.S. point of contact in INTERPOL's worldwide, police-to-police
communications and criminal intelligence network.
    Christie had a friend, a
former FBI colleague, who had transferred to INTERPOL Washington
and now worked in its State and Local
Liaison Division. The division’s major purpose was to support the
exchange of information between foreign law enforcement authorities
and state, local, and tribal law enforcement agencies in the United
States. Christie needed INTERPOL’s assistance in gathering certain
information, and this was the best way he could think of to get it.
He had told his friend in INTERPOL Washington that the OCDETF in Albuquerque was investigating a major
drug trafficker who may be operating from Ireland. The friend was
in a position to request information and assistance from INTERPOL National Central Bureau for Ireland in
the Dublin headquarters of An Garda
Síochána .
    Whelan and the other five
surviving members of the Sleeping Dogs officially had been
pronounced dead by the Bureau, victims of an explosion aboard a
commercial fishing boat near the Pacific Island of Guam. But
Christie never bought into that story. It was too cute, too
perfect. The Bureau got to blame the mess surrounding Laski’s death
and the attempt on POTUS’s life on the men, and neatly wrap up the
investigation. Score another one for the Bureau.
    But Christie had a
different theory. These same men supposedly had been killed twenty
years earlier in an airplane crash off Puerto Rico. But it turned
out they weren’t dead. They had faked their deaths and gone to
ground for two decades. They likely would still be there if it
hadn’t been for that idiot senator, Howard Morris. His efforts to
dig up evidence that would humiliate the country and further endear
him to his far left constituents had backfired. Instead of simply
proving that the United States had at one time maintained a