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When Mac woke up he was hungry, which figured. He hadn’t eaten since Paulina’s quesadillas. He looked at Angie, still asleep, her head on his shoulder. It scared him how much he liked this woman. He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and eased his arm out from underneath her.
He put his running shoes back on, and then slung his gun in a shoulder holster over a dirty T-shirt. He grimaced. He needed a shower and clean clothes. That was going to mean a trip out of here. And Janet had said something about Shorty needing an escort to get computers? He went to find out who else was awake.
He found Shorty setting up a whiteboard in a conference room on the main floor. Or maybe it was a small dining room that Shorty had turned into a conference room? He shrugged, and watched what Shorty was doing, leaning against the doorframe.
“Risk assessment,” Shorty said, not turning from the whiteboard. “So, who do the bad guys know about? Obviously, the Moores, Rodriguezes, and Joe Dunbar. You? If the cops that tried to get to Rodriguez at the hospital are in on it, then yeah, they know you’re involved. And the two FBI agents. Janet? Maybe? If they run her plates. And they seem to be thorough. Angie? I would have said no, but they cut off her phone when she was talking to me.”
“What are you really asking?” Mac said.
“Can I go home safely to stay? Can Juan go back to work? What about Angie and Janet? You?” Shorty asked.
Mac grimaced and nodded. He didn’t have good answers for that.
Others drifted into the room, and Mac moved out of the way. He sat down at the table, near the door, but not with his back to it. Until he got that guard situation straightened out, he wasn’t letting down his guard. This building was not secured, not yet.
“I can’t figure out why they came back to shoot up the Moores’ place,” Anna said as she looked at the whiteboard. “Can we start there?”
“Juan and Paulina assisted you,” Mac said. “So they retaliated.”
“But why?” she asked. “Didn’t it just expose them to more risk as well?”
“They were sending a message, Anna,” Paulina said softly. “They want people to know what happens if they help you. To isolate you. That’s how it’s done. They want people to be afraid, to shun you.”
Anna looked at her friend and neighbor, and nodded slowly.
Mac nodded to the quiet Latina. “Yes,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some of you have messages waiting for you at work putting you on leave of absence, for instance. If you call a friend, they won’t take the call. Fear is their best weapon.”
Paulina glanced at him, and met his eyes. Yes, I’ve been there too, he told her mentally. He saw her take a deep breath and let it out. No, you’re not paranoid. People really are out to get you.
“I’ve got a newspaper to run,” Janet observed. “We’re going to be noticeable in the neighborhood if we go from one bored guard to a dozen people coming and going, and a half-dozen kids running around.”
Shorty nodded. “I’ve been giving that some thought,” he said. “I think we put the word out that we’re a startup who have connections to the Parkers and have the house while we develop our product.”
Startups in this area were a familiar thing, Mac agreed. “What are we building?” he asked.
Shorty made an equivocating gesture with his hand. “Something technological. And military related. How about a technological approach to help military re-integrate into civilian life?”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Joe Dunbar complained.
“Which makes it perfect,” Shorty countered. “And if necessary, I could probably even raise funds for it. We may need some money.”
“Shorty, make a list of topics off to one side, starting with money,” Janet suggested. “We’re going down too many paths at once, here.”
Shorty nodded, and started the list. Money. Continued work schedules. School for the children. Trip to his place for computers. Better gate security. New phones.
“Food?” Joe added.
“We need a house manager,” Janet said. “Paulina? Could you do that? Put us all to work — I don’t mean for you to become the housekeeper. But someone needs to manage food orders, and KP duty, all of those things. You?”
Paulina nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And a food order is a high priority.” She grabbed a pad of paper from the pile Shorty had put on the table, and started making a list. Mac got the impression she’d seen how a big house was run at some point. He wondered what her father had done in El Salvador before he’d had to flee?
“So back to threat assessment,” Mac said. “I think we all need to move to this house as a secure location. I don’t see how not. Angie, you could probably go home, but then I’m torn between providing security here, and worrying about you. Janet? Ditto with you.”
Janet nodded. “I’ve already decided I’m going to be living here. I can give notice to my landlord, and then pay that rent into the coffers here for expenses. My house is taking forever to build!”
Since that was a complaint Mac heard daily, he ignored it, and focused on the other. “Juan? Paulina? You’re going to have insurance money coming in, and they’ll pay rent for you while you’re rehabbing the house. Are you willing to pay rent here? Anna?”
There were nods. Well that was a start on finances, he thought. “OK, next thing is you all need to consider who needs access to you. An employer? Partner? Family? I’m going to run Shorty out to get his computers, and I’ll bring back some phones for your use.”
“Not the same number, right?” Joe Dunbar asked.
“No, Shorty and I will get a business plan for his startup,” Mac said dryly. “With plenty of phones and numbers. Anything else you want us to get while we’re out?”
“A newspaper?” Janet asked plaintively.
People laughed. “Could you use the computer in the study and see what kind of coverage, if any, last night got in area media, Janet?” Mac asked, slowly. “I’d be curious.”
She nodded, and the meeting broke up.
Mac got in Shorty’s car. They were both carrying, so why not ride in luxury? He had Shorty stop at the gate.
“I’m Mac Davis,” he told the guard. “What company do you work for?”
The young man looked at him in amazement. “I know you!” he exclaimed. “Well, I know of you. The company is called Veteran Trust, and my older brother runs it. When I got out, he hired me. Said if I could stand the boredom of this gate duty for six months, he’d give me a job for real.”
“And how do you know of me?” Mac asked. The guy could run on as bad as Danny had. He winced a bit. “And what’s your name?”
“Brian, Brian Winters,” he said. “My brother knew of you in the Marines. Kevin Winters? He mentioned it when you blew up the north Cascades.”
Mac snorted. Half the population referred to last spring that way. Really, he hadn’t blown up that much. He thought about the name. It sounded vaguely familiar. He’d have to check it out. “I’m going to be out for a while,” he said. “But tell your brother, we need to talk. We’re going to need more security.”
Brian Winters nodded. “I’m mostly just here to discourage tourists, and hand out a key to realtors, although that’s been pretty rare.” He hesitated. “No more realtors?”
Mac nodded. “No more realtors,” he agreed. “I’ll get you a list of who is approved. We’re planning a startup, and one of the partners has connections to the owners of this place. So we get it rent free. Conserving our resources by moving in as well as working here. You know how it is.”
Mac was pretty sure the kid didn’t know, but Brian nodded.
“When my brother started up the security company, he lived in an efficiency apartment over the office,” the kid said. “So I get you. He’s got a house now. And I have the apartment.”
Mac smiled at him; the kid might not be much for security, but he seemed likeable enough. “Tell your brother I’ll call him. Who spells you, and when?”
“I do roughly 12 on, 12 off,” Brian Winters said. “Tonight I’ll go off at 7 p.m. Kevin varies that a bit. He doesn’t like predictability. And a guy named Benton Weeks will be on for the night shift. He’s a vet too.”
Mac nodded. He knew that name. Didn’t mean much. A lot of the names he knew were criminals.
He got back into Shorty’s car, and leaned his head against the headrest. He could use some more sleep. And food. “Hit a drive-through, will you? KFC would be good.”
Shorty snorted. “Might have to drive a ways to get that,” he muttered. “Not much demand for KFC in Bellevue.”
Mac didn’t say anything, he just kept his eyes closed, and thought about what he needed to keep all those civilians safe. “Explain startups to me,” he said at last. “That might not be a bad cover.”
Shorty walked him through the basics.
“So we don’t really need a product, just an idea?”
“And a name,” Shorty agreed.
“And you think there would be funding for this?” Mac thought it sounded more like a scam than anything he’d ever run as a teenager.
“For a web environment that would be marketed to the military? Sure.”
“How much?”
Shorty shrugged. “A million? Just as easy to write a proposal for a million as it is for $500,” he said, then pulled into the KFC drive-through in Redmond.
Mac was staring at him. “What?” Shorty demanded. “You want your usual?”
Mac nodded. “A million bucks for an idea?” he asked incredulously.
“For starters,” Shorty said. “Maybe more.”
Mac let his head hit the headrest. “Clearly, I chose the wrong major,” he said.
“No,” Shorty disagreed. He handed over cash to the clerk, and took the bucket of chicken, and the two drinks. Mountain Dew for Mac, a Pepsi for himself. “Journalism is the perfect background for this. You know how to write. How to tell a story. And you know me for the tech side of things. Plus your military background?”
“This is just a front, right?” Mac asked, looking at Shorty curiously. He took a long pull on the straw in the Mountain Dew, and then pulled out a piece of chicken. He offered the bucket to Shorty.
“Well, yes,” Shorty said. “But it has to look real. And to be honest? This is as real as a startup starts.” He grinned at the sound of that. “Why? Do you want me to actually write a proposal? We could.”
Mac snorted. “Then we’d have to produce something,” he pointed out.
“Most high-tech startups fail before they get a product on the table,” Shorty said. He turned back toward Bellevue and headed to his apartment.
“Why would people invest in it then?”
“Because if you make it big, you get a really big payoff,” Shorty answered. He parked. “You didn’t know this?”
Mac shrugged. “As a headline,” he said. “But not from the inside. How is this different than any scam we ran?”
“It’s legal and the payoff is bigger?” Shorty asked sarcastically. He started to get out, but Mac shook his head.
“Just sit here for a moment,” he said softly. “Look around. Anything out place? Anything unusual? A car you don’t recognize?”
Shorty stilled. Then he did what Mac asked. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t see anything off.”
Mac nodded. “I’m going to get out, lean against the car,” he said. “You get out then and go home as you normally would. Move slow, though.”
Shorty waited until Mac was in place, and then he got out, locked his car and headed down the walkway. Mac watched him for a moment and then focused on everything else. Nothing. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Seemed strange that they hadn’t staked his apartment out. Well, it would be out of SPD’s jurisdiction. Hadn’t stopped them in the past.
Shorty opened the door, and Mac walked in behind him, carrying the KFC bucket. “Kristin left,” Shorty said. He didn’t sound surprised. Or upset, for that matter.
“Get the computers boxed up,” Mac said. “And pack. I’ll raid your kitchen for food we can take back. No point in letting it go to waste here.”
“How long are you thinking, Mac?” Shorty asked as he disappeared into his study.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But if Janet is giving up her lease? I’m guessing it’s for the long haul.”
They stopped at a T-Mobile store for phones. Mac stayed in the car — Shorty had a small fortune in computer equipment here — and let Shorty shop for phones. He was dozing by the time Shorty returned and handed him a sack of phones and other bits and pieces. “It took hours?” he asked, astounded. It was dinner time. He wondered if Paulina had gotten a food order together or if they should pick up some pizzas.
“Haven’t you ever gone shopping for a phone?” Shorty responded irritably. “And it’s on my credit card, so we need to think about that.”
“Set up a corporate account?” Mac said, tongue in cheek. Then he realized Shorty was thinking about it.
“Yeah, that will work,” Shorty decided. “If we’re pooling our money we need some kind of account. We can talk about that when we get back.”
Mac rolled his eyes, and looked out the window. This was going to be major pain just to manage. “Your phone freaks?” he asked.
“I called them from my land line,” Shorty answered. “They’re interested enough to talk money. I’ll call them again from the house. Are you willing to have them meet us there?”
“Are they likely to rat us out to the cops?”
Shorty thought about that. “I don’t think so,” he said. “But if they got picked up for something and thought they could trade us for a get out of jail free card?” He shrugged.
“So how do we do it then?” Mac asked. “Do you really need them?”
“Yes,” Shorty said. He pulled up to the gate and Brian Winters glanced in the car. The gate opened slowly. “I’ll take another look at what we know — and don’t know — but I think we’re going to need the experts.”
Mac just nodded. He wanted a phone so he could check in with Stan and Rand. And to call this kid’s boss. If the boss, Kevin Winters, wasn’t savvier than his kid brother, they’d need to find someone else to provide security ASAP. The kid should have never left the guard booth. Should have asked Shorty to roll down the windows instead of coming out and peering in.
Computers was Shorty’s job. Getting the story? Janet Andrews. But security? That was his job. Made his head hurt just thinking about it.
He got Stan Warren’s number from Janet and plugged it into his new phone. He added the few numbers he knew by heart. He’d resisted cell phones for so long. And he was still suspicious of the things. They were too easy to eavesdrop on. A cop could sit up on the road and listen in on every conversation — legally. But not having one at his disposal felt really weird now.
Shorty was handing out the phones to everyone, and from the way they snatched them up, they felt the same way. “Be careful who you call,” Mac warned.
People nodded, and he hoped that was enough warning. These were savvy people, he reminded himself. And he called Stan.
Nick was in a hospital room within ICU, Stan reported. He was still out. They were keeping him in a medically induced coma so that he didn’t get agitated and undo all the doctor’s hard work.
“And prognosis?” he asked, glancing at Anna Rodriguez. She was on the phone too — to a doctor, he assumed.
“Hard to tell,” Stan said. “He’s alive. The doctors seemed pretty confident that he’s going to stay that way. That’s about all they’ll commit to.” He hesitated. “There may have been spinal damage.”
Mac was silent. He knew from his Marine days what that meant. “Top or bottom?” he asked at last with another look at Anna to make sure she wasn’t listening to him.
“Bottom,” Stan said. “Look, I’m beat. But we can’t leave him unguarded. Rand will stay while I get some sleep. But the three of us should talk.”
“I’ll head over,” Mac said. “I might sit with Rand for a while. Have the assholes been back?”
“They left,” Stan said tiredly. “I still can’t get ahold of our SAC. That worries me. So, it’s my next priority. After some sleep.”
“Give me the number you’re calling the SAC on,” Mac suggested. “I’ve got a clean phone. I’ll bring new phones over for the two of you. Be interesting to see if your number is still being re-routed.”
“Can they do that?” Stan asked. He rattled off a number. “See you in a few?”
“Fast as I can get out of here,” Mac promised.
He checked in with Janet and Shorty, and then he went outside and dialed the number Stan had given him. A gruff voice answered. “Is this Special Agent in Charge William Noble?” Mac asked.
“You got him,” he said. “Who are you? Not many people have this number.”
Mac identified himself and told him that Stan Warren had been trying to reach him, but his phone seemed to be compromised. He gave him a brief overview of the last 18 hours. There was muffled profanity at the other end. Mac grinned briefly. “I’m headed back to the hospital,” Mac said. “It would be helpful if you could join us to discuss security.”
“Starting with why a God-damn reporter is part of the security discussion?” Noble asked. “I’ll be there in 30 minutes.” And he hung up.
Well, that was an interesting style for an FBI SAC, Mac thought, as he got in his vehicle and headed out. Brian nodded at him when he opened the gates. Mac glanced at his watch, and then rolled down the window. “You said you’re off shift at 7 p.m.?”
Brian nodded.
“Give your brother a call, see if he can join us at 7 p.m. for a talk.”
Brian nodded again, and Mac rolled up the window and went across the 520 bridge back to the UW Medical Center.
When Mac walked up to the small waiting area that Stan had made his own, a tall, beefy man was blustering, “No, I did not ignore your telephone calls, Stan. I didn’t get any message from you on the call-in line, and I didn’t get any calls directly from you either. What kind of agent do you think I am?”
Mac nodded at Rand who was still seated, looking down at his hands. Stan was standing, going eye-to-eye with the man Mac presumed was his boss.
“Show him your phone, Stan,” Mac said.
The SAC looked at him. “You’re that reporter who blew up half the Cascades last spring,” he said sourly. “You and my agent here.” He gestured with his head toward Rand. Mac glanced at Rand and saw that he was amused. Mac relaxed a bit.
“That’s me,” Mac agreed. “But you should see Detective Nick Rodriguez’s house and his neighbor’s. Rand and I didn’t come close to that much damage.”
Rand snorted.
Stan handed Noble his phone. The man looked at it, then frowned. “What the hell?” he murmured.
Interesting, Mac thought. His body language completely changed. No more western twang. Before, all he needed was a cowboy hat and a toothpick and he would have fit in on a cattle ranch on the east side of the mountains. And now, he’s a cop.
“So a drive-by aimed at Rodriguez? How is he?”
“Alive,” Stan said. “And lucky to be that way. If his wife wasn’t a savvy woman, and his neighbor wasn’t a nurse, he’d be dead. And if I’d been seconds slower they would have gotten me, a couple of journalists and houseful of kids on the second pass.”
“Related to something he’s working on?” Noble asked. “What about his partner?”
“His partner called me for backup when he didn’t get any response from SPD,” Mac said. “I rescued him from a derelict section of lower Queen Anne. We were on the way to the hospital in Ballard when I got the call that someone had done a number on Nick’s place.”
“Hell of a thing when a reporter comes for backup and the cops don’t,” Noble muttered. “That says cops, or at least dispatch, were involved.”
“It does,” Stan agreed. “We’ve got some strings we can pull, sir,” he said. “And I’d like to put together an ad hoc task force to do it. Use some independent contractors, since we can’t trust local police. But something is wrong in the Seattle Police Department.”
“No shit,” Noble said. “How high up?”
Stan shrugged. “Too early to say,” he said.
“Well, maybe,” Mac said. “But those men who came in and tried to bluster their way into Nick’s recovery ward were pretty low level — street officers. And the man they cited was a sergeant. My gut says this is in the rank and file. Maybe the union.”
Noble glanced at him sharply. “Why the last?”
“Dispatch too,” Mac said. “It crosses too many internal divisions. It’s not just an out of control narcotics division, for instance. It’s not just a lone, pissed off cop. It stretches. And the Seattle Police Officers Union is the only alternative leadership location.” He shrugged. “Someone suggested Nick had gone to IA, or IA had gone to Nick about something. Tomorrow I’ll wander up to SPD and ask around.”
Noble turned back to Stan. “So, you pulled rank, and got yourself stuck with guard duty?”
Stan snorted. “That’s about right,” he agreed.
“Good,” Noble said. Mac thought Stan was surprised at that.
Mac considered the three agents. Stan Warren had been in D.C. for a long time. He was a well-educated Black man who liked good suits, much better suits than anyone in Seattle wore. He’d only been in Seattle a few months — not enough time really to build any kind of rapport with his new boss.
And his boss was what? Westerner through and through. Obviously, Seattle was as high in the ranks as he was going, and he was satisfied with that. Probably had been here a long time. Although, he acted more like Boise, than Seattle. Still it was a Sunday. A man was entitled to be comfortable on a day off. He made a mental note to do a backgrounder on the man. And to look at his notes from the Parker story. He couldn’t remember what role the local bureau had played in all that. There had been a lot of D.C. agents hanging around in Seattle during that operation — including Stan Warren.
Rand, on the other hand, seemed easy with the Seattle SAC. Mac decided he’d go with that evaluation — for now.
“I’ll authorize agents for security,” Noble was saying. “And I’ll talk to the Chief of Police about funds for an off-the-books task force. Unless you’re worried he’s in on this?”
Noble looked at Rand, who shrugged and shook his head. “No clue,” he said. “Not my turf.”
The SAC looked at Stan Warren and raised an eyebrow.
Stan considered it. Looked at Mac. Mac shrugged. “I’ve not heard anything about him,” he said. “I thought he genuinely wanted to clean house after the Army of God fiasco.”
He thought about it. Truthfully, although he said he covered cops, he didn’t really. He covered crime. But he didn’t write about the institutions of law enforcement. He didn’t write about the cops themselves, what they did or didn’t do. He wrote about crime. He added that to his list of things to think about.
“Wanted to? Did he?” Stan asked.
Mac frowned at that. “Good question,” he admitted. “But you’re going to need a contact in the Seattle PD. And since Nick is in a coma, and Joe was sleeping off pain meds when I left? I’d go to the top, and if he’s in on it? We’re SOL anyway.”
Stan shrugged and turned back to Noble. “Money wins,” he said dryly. “It will be interesting to see if the Chief of Police has even heard about his officers being shot at in drive-bys last night.”
“It will,” Noble agreed. “How can I reach you?”
Mac handed Stan and Rand their new phones. He sat down next to Rand, and dug his old phone out of the seats, and plugged in the numbers he needed to his new phone. Then he erased the old phone. Shorty had told him how. Rand watched and did the same thing.
Stan and William Noble were talking quietly. From the words that drifted over, they were talking about guard details. “Your boss usually this combo of gruff and free-wheeling?” Mac asked in a low voice.
Rand snorted. “That about sums it up,” he agreed. “Good guy. But he and Stan haven’t worked things out yet. Takes time. And this? Damn, Mac. This is a mess.”
“No shit,” Mac muttered. “You good for guard duty until the next agent shows up? I’m nervous about leaving the house unguarded. The guard that’s posted at the safe house would be useful for pizza deliveries, and that’s about it.”
“Yeah, I got a few hours of sleep before this happened,” Rand said. “Drag Stan out of here. He’s getting pretty ragged. He’s going to lose his temper, and if it’s at Bill, there will be hell to pay.”
Mac nodded. He stood up, and interrupted the two men. “Sir, if you and Rand can handle things here, I need Agent Warren at the safe house we’ve got set up. There are security concerns, and he should take charge there.”
Noble glanced at Mac, then turned back to Stan. “Go,” he said. “You can fill me in on the rest later. We need to keep people safe first. But I want a written update by 8 a.m. tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Stan said quietly. He looked at his old phone and sighed. He tossed it to Rand, and Rand stashed it in the seat crevices. He followed Mac out.
“Do I want to know what that’s about?” Mac heard Noble ask as they waited for the elevator. Rand started to explain.
Stan snorted. “Get me out of here,” he said.
“Doing my best,” Mac assured him.