| |
Lowell stared at the tablet in front of him with a frown. According to the tracking dot on Ms. Bolan's GPS software, he was supposed to be sitting in the parking lot of a mall. He raised his eyes to the dirt road that emerged out of a forest of trees. Instead, he was in the middle of the Pine Barrens somewhere. It didn't make any sense.
He caught up with Angela when she stopped to pick up lunch at an Italian pizza place just outside Mt. Laurel. Expecting her to turn around and head back to work, he had been surprised when she pulled out of the parking lot and continued heading south. Now, he was just confused. He checked both the GPS tracking on her car and her phone, and they both thought they were in a mall parking lot.
Pulling his hood over his head, Lowell settled down in the seat and started updating the tracking software on the tablet. Something must have gotten hung up somewhere. He would update the software and then he would be able to see where the hell they were. Not for the first time, he wished he hadn't given his own GPS system to Philip.
While he waited for the scan on the tablet to complete, Lowell leaned his head back and stared at the roof of the car. The Feds had come to the building this morning and picked up Rodrigo's laptop and two hard drives. By the end of the day, Angela Bolan would be implicated in the security breach and everything would be back on track. It was unfortunate that Rodrigo got cold feet in the end. They could have been on their way already, mission accomplished and no one the wiser. Instead, Rodrigo seemed to have been attacked with something resembling a conscience.
Lowell shook his head slightly.
It had taken two years to get to this point. Rodrigo had been willing to throw away all that work and careful planning. While it was shocking he lost his head, Rodrigo really couldn't have expected to just walk away from this without any consequences. He really couldn't have been that naïve. Life didn't work that way. They all knew going into this that they were in it for the long haul, and there was no going back. The only question now was, who had gotten to Rodrigo? Lowell had been waiting for him to resurface so that he could take care of himself, but someone beat him to it. Who?
Lowell lifted his head and glanced at the tablet. The scan was finishing and then the software would begin pulling down the updates. He looked at his watch. It should take about ten minutes or so, then he could confirm that the tracking viruses on Angela's car and phone were working properly. Until he killed her, he needed to know where she was at all times. She was their scapegoat. Without her, the Feds would start looking more closely at Rodrigo's associates, past and present, and that would never do.
Lowell looked up as a black F-150 appeared on the road, heading towards him. He slid down in his seat as the truck slowed down and turned into the dirt road right near the front of his car. The driver glanced at the car, but continued into the trees without slowing down. Lowell breathed a short sigh of relief and sat back up. What was down the dirt road? He wanted to get out and walk through the trees and see what was back there, but he needed to finish the software update first. There was no point in seeing what was down the road if he didn't even know where the road was.
Lowell was still staring at the tablet in his lap a few minutes later when there was a tap on the glass of the passenger's window. He started violently and raised his eyes to see the man from the pick-up truck peering into the car. Swallowing, Lowell slid one hand into his sweatshirt pocket to close around the gun there. With the other, he pressed the button to lower the window slightly.
“Yes?” he asked.
“You're parked on private property,” Michael told him, his eyes narrowed. He pulled out his badge and flashed it through the window. Lowell stilled at the sight of the badge. “I'm a Federal Officer. Are you lost?”
“Actually, I am,” Lowell said, releasing the gun in his pocket and doing his best to look confused. “My GPS on this tablet doesn't seem to know where I am, and I pulled off the road to try to update it.”
Michael studied the stranger through the glass.
“If you follow this road, it'll take you back into town,” he told him, motioning to the road behind them. “You're a fair way out, though, so just stay on this road until you hit civilization again.”
“Where would that be?” Lowell asked, starting his engine.
“Medford,” Michael answered and stepped back. He watched as the man pulled his hand out of his sweatshirt pocket and set the tablet on the seat next to him. Michael glanced at it and saw an upload just finishing up on the tablet. “Once you hit the center of town, your GPS should be able to get you where you're going.”
“Thanks, man!” Lowell waved and backed out of the trees.
Michael nodded and watched as the sedan switched gears and drove away down the road. He shook his head slightly and turned to head back into the trees. Rounding a tree, he came face to face with Alina, looking decidedly annoyed.
“What do you think you're doing?” she demanded.
Michael raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the gun in her hands.
“Getting rid of someone who looked suspicious,” he answered easily. “What are you doing?”
“I was trying to find out who he was,” Viper retorted, tucking the gun into her back holster. “I saw him on the security camera.”
“So you came out armed? What am I missing?” Michael asked. His green eyes glinted in the afternoon sun trickling through the trees.
Alina sighed and turned to walk through the trees beside him.
“Nothing good,” she replied. “And I'm always armed. You know that.”
“And here I just spent last night convincing Blake there was nothing to be worried about here,” he sighed, falling into step beside her. “Am I going to regret that?”
“That depends,” Alina answered, her lips twitching.
“Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to figure it out myself?” Michael demanded. “I will, you know, so you might as well tell me what's going on now and save us both some time.”
“I don't doubt you,” Alina murmured. “Angela is at the house. She came for lunch and it seems like she's got herself into a situation.”
“Did Coach go out of business?” Michael asked dryly.
Alina bit back a laugh and shook her head as his truck came into view, stopped in the middle of the long dirt road that snaked through the trees to the house. She glanced at him, debating how much to tell him.
“Hardly. Angela is being followed,” Alina told him.
Michael raised an eyebrow in surprise as he opened the passenger's door to his truck for her.
“Angela?” he repeated. “By whom?”
“That's what I was trying to find out,” Alina retorted, climbing into the truck.
Michael slammed the door closed and went around to get behind the wheel.
“That guy was waiting for her, not you?” he asked, starting the engine and putting the truck in gear.
“Unexpected, right?” Alina looked out the window as they bounced through the trees. “I'm so used to it being the other way around.”
“What did she get herself mixed up with?” Michael asked after a moment of silence.
“Stephanie and John's investigation, as far as I can make out.” Alina glanced at him. “They have a dead informant on their hands. Angela knew him at work and somehow he got hold of her network credentials and used them to hack into the bank mainframe before he turned up dead.”
Michael whistled softly.
“And now she's being followed,” he said slowly.
“Yep.” Alina turned her attention back to the trees. “It started last night, or at least, that's when she first noticed it.”
“Does Stephanie know?”
“Not yet.” Alina shrugged. “Angela says she doesn't want to put Stephanie in a bad spot, but she doesn't know yet Stephanie is the one heading the investigation.”
“Wait, back up,” Michael shook his head. “If she doesn't know Stephanie's in charge, how does she know she's gotten mixed up in their investigation?”
Alina sighed and leaned her head back on the head rest.
“The FBI went to get the dead man's equipment today,” she explained. “It's a long story, but the basics are the dead man hacked into the bank's mainframe from his computer with Angela's credentials. Someone in the IT department caught it when he was copying data from the computers to get them ready for the Feds. He told Angela. Now the Feds have the computers and they'll see the logs for themselves.”
“Angela has no idea how this happened?”
“None.” Alina shook her head. “She really does have rotten luck sometimes. She doesn't know Stephanie and John are the agents working on the case. She just knows she's about to be implicated in something she had no part of.” Alina raised her head as the dirt driveway gave way to gravel. They approached a clearing in the trees and the house came into view ahead. “She went to work last night to change all her passwords and when she got home, she spotted her tail.”
“That certainly doesn't sound good,” Michael murmured. He followed the drive past the front of the house and turned left to follow it to the back. “She'll have to tell Stephanie.”
“I know,” Alina agreed. “In the meantime, I want to find out who's following her.”
“You think she's in danger?” Michael asked, stopping the truck in front of the garage and turning the engine off. He glanced at Alina to find her frowning slightly.
“I do,” she answered quietly. “Stephanie's informant is showing up in pieces. Whatever is going on, it's not good.”
“What can I do to help?” Michael asked simply.
Alina glanced at him as she reached for the door handle.
“Help me keep an eye on Angela.”
Stephanie stared at the scene before her. John was right. It was a mess. The makeshift operating room in the maze had been decorated to look like a massacre had taken place there, and fake blood was splattered everywhere. The fake corpse of the headless surgeon had been tossed aside into the corner and in its place on the gurney lay Rodrigo Frietas.
Or what was left of him.
Stephanie swallowed heavily as her stomach rolled over slowly in protest of the gruesome sight. Rodrigo had been cut from the base of his breast bone to his abdomen and splayed wide open. As if that wasn't enough, whoever did it had pulled half of his intestines out.
“I told you it was a mess,” John said, watching Stephanie's face drain of color. “You look like you need to sit down.”
“I'm...I'll be...” Stephanie started to speak, then turned abruptly and left the area.
John nodded to Larry, who waiting a few feet away, and followed Stephanie around a corner in the maze. She dropped down onto a prop chair, lowered her head between her knees, and waited for the wave of nausea to pass.
“Two of the techs so far have lost their breakfast,” John told her, watching as she kept her head down and took some deep breaths. “You're in good company. It's not a pretty sight.”
“Who does that?!” Stephanie exclaimed, lifting a white face and looking at him. “Who the hell does something like that!?”
“A sick bastard,” John answered promptly.
Stephanie shook her head and lowered it down again, taking deep breaths and trying to forget the sight. The nausea was starting to pass now that she was away from the sight and smell of Rodrigo's mutilated remains.
“How did they get in here?” she demanded. “We had this locked down and agents posted over-night. How the hell did they bring a body in here?”
“The outer door to the parking lot behind the Warden's House was found unlocked,” John answered. “One of the techs found traces of bodily fluid and a footprint just inside the door. It looks like they brought him in that way.”
“And neither of our agents saw anything?” Stephanie raised her head, staring at John in disbelief. “How incompetent can we get here?”
“Trust me, I asked them that very same question,” John answered grimly. “It's almost like we are working with a ghost. They walk through walls, unlock doors, no one ever sees them, and no one ever hears anything.”
Stephanie took a final deep breath and sat up.
“Ghosts don't slice people up like that,” she muttered. “Did Larry have any initial observations?”
“Only that he was already dead when he was cut open, but we knew that already,” John said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a metal support beam. “He estimates that Rodrigo was killed sometime between two and nine on Saturday. He did say that according to his examination of his head, Rodrigo's tongue was cut out before the head was severed.”
“Was he still alive at that point?” Stephanie asked.
“Larry thinks so,” John answered quietly.
“So they cut off his arm and cut out his tongue while he was still alive, then beheaded him.” Stephanie shook her head and took another deep breath. “Lovely.”
“It's consistent with cartel antics,” John said slowly. “They're barbarians, most of them. Do we have a name yet?”
“I have three,” Stephanie said, getting to her feet shakily. “Show me the footprint and fluid inside the door to the maze and then I'll tell you what Matt found out.”
“We already got a cast of the print,” John told her, leading her back through the maze. When they passed the operating room, she glanced in to see Larry and his assistant bending over the gurney. “The fluid could be from Rodrigo, or it could be from the people who brought him in here. Matt should be able to tell us once he gets it tested.”
“Who was the museum guard on duty inside last night?” Stephanie asked.
“Karl.”
“Interesting,” Stephanie murmured.
John glanced at her.
“What are you thinking?”
“Bad things seem to happen when Karl's here,” she answered quietly. “First, the arm shows up when he's on duty, and now a tongue and body appear.”
“He wasn't on the night the head showed up,” John pointed out.
“I still don't like it,” Stephanie said. “Let's do a more thorough background check on Karl.”
John nodded.
“Ok.”
They approached the beginning of the maze and he motioned to a corner just inside the door leading to the parking lot. A couple of techs were just packing up their bags and they nodded to Stephanie as they approached.
“We just finished,” one of them told her. “We got a cast of the footprint, samples of the fluid, and we also found this.”
He held out a sealed evidence bag and Stephanie raised an eyebrow. Inside was a cigarette butt.
“Where was that?” she asked.
“Marker 3,” the tech answered, motioning to the little plastic evidence markers. “It was near the footprint.”
“That was careless of them,” Stephanie murmured. She crouched down and examined the footprint in the soft earth. “Are they getting sloppy on us already?”
“Maybe they were in a hurry to get inside the door,” John said, looking out the open door to the parking lot. “If a patrol car was pulling into the side street to get to the station, they may have been caught and had to get out of sight quickly.”
“Perhaps.” Stephanie glanced up and looked out the door. “Kind of ballsy to be smoking a cigarette while you're moving a headless corpse around, don't you think?”
“If you think that's the most risky part of this whole mess, then I'm going to have to rethink our partnership,” John told her. “The whole thing is ballsy, starting with the arm in the cell.”
Stephanie grinned sheepishly.
“You're right,” she agreed, standing. “A cigarette is the least of their worries right now. Still, it's a lucky break for us. At least we can confirm our suspect now.”
John nodded and they walked through the door and outside the wall of the prison yard. Stephanie glanced around the parking lot and the bevy of activity as techs and agents bustled around together, processing everything from the maze. It was a daunting task, going through every inch of the haunted walk, but John seemed to have organized everyone quickly and the process appeared to be going smoothly.
“Tell me about the Cartel,” John said quietly as they moved away from the commotion and walked toward the Warden's House.
“The man is named Lorenzo Porras,” Stephanie told him. “He's a soldier in the Casa Reino Cartel. Three months ago, the head of the Cartel was shot and killed. Matt says there were rumors at the time the CIA was behind it, but that was never confirmed. When he was shot, the second-in-command, a man named Jenaro Gomez, took over temporarily and helped to get a new leader in place quickly. Lorenzo Porras is known to have been working closely with Jenaro the past few months.”
“And he's the one who went into the Dungeon on Friday,” John said slowly.
“Yes. Matt ID'd him from the surveillance video.” Stephanie stopped walking and turned to face John. “That's not all. Jenaro Gomez entered the country through Arizona about a month ago. DEA lost him, but they think he was heading east. An FBI team out of Washington is looking for him.”
“So we have a confirmed cartel soldier in Jersey, and probably the second-in-command of the cartel as well,” John muttered. “Fabulous. What the hell are they doing here?”
“That's the million dollar question,” Stephanie replied.
“What about the woman?”
“Her name's Jessica Nuñez. She doesn't seem to have any connection at all with either Rodrigo or the Cartel,” she told him. “She's a legal resident and works for Social Services. She doesn't even have a parking ticket. That's all I had time to find out about her so far.”
“Why would a Mexican Cartel be interested in a hacking ring working for North Korea?” John asked with a frown. “It makes no sense.”
“I know.” Stephanie shook her head.
“Could we be wrong about NicTel?” he wondered. “Could our information be wrong?”
“I don't think so,” Stephanie said slowly. “Over the weekend, a terrorist was spotted in New York City. His name is Jin Seung Moon. Ever hear of him?”
“No.” John shook his head. “Who is he?”
“Apparently, he's one of North Korea's top terrorists,” Stephanie told him. “Interpol hasn't been able to catch him. He's virtually untouchable.”
“And he happens to be less than two hours away from here,” John said.
Stephanie nodded and they looked at each other grimly.
“There seem to be a lot of coincidences here,” John said after a moment.
“I don't believe in coincidence,” Stephanie retorted. “It's getting crowded, and they're all here for a reason.”
“You think our hackers are the magnet?”
Stephanie nodded.
“I think Rodrigo was in the middle of it all,” she said.
“If that's the case, then Phillip Chou is next,” John said slowly.
“I've already sent an agent to keep an eye on him,” Stephanie replied. “I'm one step ahead of you, partner.”
Damon lifted the military binoculars to his eyes and his lips curved into a cold, satisfied smile. He studied the green crossover, parked in the narrow alley between two sets of row homes. Jessica Nuñez's car was backed into the alley and parked, for all the world like it was a driveway. Hawk lowered the binoculars and sipped his water thoughtfully. The row homes were deteriorating with age and neglect, and the narrow street they fronted was strewn with debris. A convenience store on the corner sported thick iron bars in the windows and the ground floor windows of all the row homes had smaller iron railings fixed onto them. Even the sun declined to shine on this depressed neighborhood, disappearing behind thick clouds and casting gray shadows over the buildings.
Hawk had been settled on the roof of an equally dilapidated structure across the street since early morning, watching the corner house. He scored a lead on the car in the early hours of the morning when the registration popped up in the police databases. Jessica's car received its first parking ticket the night before in Riverside, near the Delaware River. Once it was on the grid, finding it was easy.
Damon set down his water bottle and turned to his laptop while he was waiting for signs of life to emerge from the house across the road. A few minutes later, a black pick-up truck pulled up in front of the house and parked half on the sidewalk. Damon picked up the binoculars, watching as the driver jumped out and ran around to the passenger's side. He opened the door and leaned in, helping the passenger out of the truck.
Hawk raised an eyebrow as he watched the passenger emerge. His shoulder was wrapped up in gauze and blood was seeping through the bandage. Zooming in on the faces of the two men, Hawk clicked a button on the side of the binoculars and snapped a series of pictures of both men. He frowned as he watched the injured man impatiently wave the other away. They went up the cement steps to the door and disappeared inside, leaving the truck angled out front of the house.
Damon turned his attention to the truck. The windshield had a bullet hole in the driver's side and the front passenger tire was a spare. Damon lowered the binoculars slowly.
Something had certainly gone very wrong for the two cartel soldiers this morning. A bullet hole at that angle meant the shooter was a better-than-average shot. Hawk considered the truck thoughtfully for a moment, then raised the binoculars again, searching the windows for signs of movement. A few moments later, he was rewarded when the driver ripped open the curtains on a second floor window. He turned away from the window and Hawk watched as he spoke to someone out of sight in the large room. The injured passenger was sitting on a folding chair, his right arm laying on a folding card table. As he watched, a large man came into view, his back to the window. He leaned over the man and started unwrapping the bandage from his shoulder. He turned his head to say something to the driver and Hawk snapped a picture of his profile. His smile was arctic as he lowered the binoculars.
He had found Jenaro Gomez.