CHAPTER 35

"SO CLOSE, YET SO far." Brianne pulled from the parking lot. "How do we find her?"

For the first time, Zinsser was seeing a crack in Brianne's ironclad armor.

"We should assume she's fairly close. We're forty or fifty miles from the Moyer's neighborhood. The abductors stayed close because they had to get the holding cell built, snag Gina, and make the video."

"You don't know that."

"You're right, I don't, but I think I'm on target. They could have traveled across state lines, but why bother? Surely they know doing that would bring in the FBI."

"If they're smart, then they'd know the FBI investigates crimes against children, which includes abductions. State lines have nothing to do with it. They'd also know the moment they attempted to interfere with a military mission, we could investigate under our counterterrorism arm. In theory, we are limited in the crimes we investigate, but just between you, me, and the fence post, we investigate whatever we want."

"Okay, maybe they stayed within a hundred miles for other reasons. I still think timing has something to do with it."

Brianne leaned her head back against the headrest. She looked weary. "What I can't figure out is how they know about Moyer's mission. They have inside info."

"There's definitely a mole somewhere. Leaking sensitive information isn't new. Private First Class Bradley Manning sent classified documents to WikiLeaks in 2010 by the boatload. Retired Chief Warrant Officer John Walker Jr., did spy work for the Soviet Union from the late 1960s to 1985. The list goes on. The government and the military are huge organizations. The U.S. military is the second largest armed forces in the world, second only to China. With 1.5 million active-duty military, there's bound to be a few bad apples and twisted minds. There are nearly 2 million civilians working for the government. That brings the number to well over 3 million people."

"But only a handful has access to secret material."

"I'll give you that, but I bet the number is larger than you might guess. The whole Private Manning and WikiLeaks thing was stunning because Manning was close to the bottom of military rank yet easily stole information." Zinsser stopped at a red light and looked at Brianne. "Play the numbers. Let's say there is one person in ten thousand willing to betray his or her country. Between military and government employees that leaves something like three hundred people."

"Ever the optimist, aren't you? By the way, the light is green."

Zinsser frowned. "You wanna drive?"

"Yep."

"Too bad." He pulled through the intersection. "You get my point. I have no idea how many people can or would spy on their own government or sell information, but history shows there are plenty who will."

"That part of the story is someone else's problem for now. Gina is our pressing concern." A second later she asked, "What would you do? If you were the black hats, I mean."

"I've been thinking about that. If we were dealing with your typical gravel-for-brains crook, things would be easier, but everything we've seen tells us these guys are several rungs up the intelligence ladder. If I was running the operation, I'd ditch the Tacoma as soon as I unloaded it." He paused. "I'd also choose a spot where I could carry a fourteen-year-old girl into a building without being seen. That's not something you can do in an apartment building or a hotel."

"Agreed. What about security cameras? Would you worry about those?"

"Absolutely. We saw how cautious they were in the home-improvement store. They did their best to keep their faces turned away."

"Which is impossible to do in a store with fifty cameras."

"Right. They have no reason to believe we'd be tracking down that kind of lead." Zinsser pulled to the side of the road. His brain had just hit the afterburners. "Okay, we know it's an older building because of the old-style, wood-frame, double-hung window. We know they built the holding room to conceal the rest of the building's interior. They even covered the glass in the window."

Brianne was nodding. "And we assume they would do this in a building where no one would notice someone carting building material around and banging nails."

"And the place has to be away from prying eyes and security cameras."

"An abandoned building."

"An old abandoned building, away from security cameras or traffic lights."

Brianne snatched her cell the way a gunslinger snatches his six-shooter from its holster. She punched a single button. "Operator, this is Special Agent Brianne Lazzaro." She followed that with her badge number. "I need the number for the central police station for Fairfield, South Carolina." She paused. "Yes, I know I could call information, but I called you. What part of 'FBI' and 'emergency' don't you understand?" Another second. "Thanks." She dialed another number and waited. Zinsser admired her straightforward approach to everything. She put it on speaker.

"Fairfield Police. Sergeant Presley speaking." He sounded bored.

Again, Brianne identified herself by name and badge number. "I'm in your city with Special Agent Jerry Zinsser of Army CID. We believe a young girl has been abducted and may be in your city."

"How can I help?"

"I'm going to tell you what we're looking for. I don't have time to answer questions, just give me your best answer."

"I'm ready. Shoot."

Brianne rattled off the criteria she and Zinsser had just discussed. There was no response. "You still with me, Sergeant?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm thinking. Hold on." More silence. "You got GPS in your car?"

"Yes."

"There are several small industrial buildings in the old part of town. Built in the fifties. Some real estate developer bought them a few weeks ago. Plans to tear them down this summer. If I recall my patrol days correctly, there are four two-story structures on the three thousand block of Regency, cross street Polk."

"Got it." Zinsser punched in the information. "Polk and Regency."

"You want me to send patrol cars?"

Zinsser nodded. "Yes, but keep them well back. If they see marked cars, they might bug out. Worse, they might harm the girl."

"Understood. I'll be there in an unmarked car."

"No need," Brianne said. "We can take it from here."

"You're in my jurisdiction, Agent. I'm not going to lose my job because I have to tell the chief I sat on my butt while this was going on."

"You plainclothes?"

"I will be. Blue jeans, blue pullover shirt. Padres cap."

"Padres?" Zinsser looked at Brianne's phone. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Really?"

"I started off as a cop in San Diego, before my wife moved us to small-town life. I just don't want you to shoot me."

"Padres? I may shoot you anyway."

"Funny guy."

Brianne hung up and Zinsser pulled from the curb.

MOYER SUCKED COLD AIR in rapid inhalations. Perspiration ran down his face, soaking his knit mask. He was so focused on getting back to the FedEx truck on time, he almost missed it. Lev did a fine job concealing it behind brush and trees. Moyer backpedaled and ran up the slope where Lev had backed the vehicle. Crispin and J. J. were just steps behind. He could hear their heavy breathing. They had a right to be sucking air, the trip back was eight kilometers of uneven ground, branches, and roots trying to slap a face or grab a foot.

Moyer paused as he laid his hand on the handle of the back door. J. J. and Crispin walked the last few steps, Crispin bending as if he were about to deposit the contents of his stomach on the bedding of leaves.

He looked up and raised a hand with a thumb up. He couldn't speak, but he could still let it be known that he wasn't about to die. Moyer wanted to smile but he seemed to have lost the ability.

With a sharp motion, Moyer flung the door open, then stumbled back. Looking back at him were three muzzles. "Easy, boys, it's just me."

Rich frowned. "This is why we have radios, Boss."

"So . . . I . . . see. Sorry, Shaq. I'm a tad winded."

Rich, Pete, and Jose lowered their weapons and Moyer stepped into the back of the van. The rest of his team followed. Moyer removed his helmet and his black balaclava. J. J. and Crispin did the same.

"Man, I'm getting old." Moyer closed his eyes and focused on slowing his heartbeat. "Report, Shaq."

"Just as predicted, the Russians massacred the Chinese and now have access to the very thing we were supposed to keep them from."

Moyer ignored the jab. "They got all the Chinese?"

"All but one."

Moyer opened his eyes and looked into the stony face of his second in command. "The last man?"

"I had to bag him. He was about to toss a grenade into the satellite." Rich turned to J. J. "Here's your weapon back, Colt. I want my M4."

"Come to papa, baby."

They exchanged weapons.

Jose looked puzzled. "So what? Part of our mission is to blow the thing up."

"Radioactive fuel, Doc," Crispin said.

"Does that matter out here? Chernobyl did much worse. There can't be that much radioactive fuel."

"Leaving a part of a foreign nation's forest glowing in the dark and sprouting six-foot-tall rabbits would be frowned upon." J. J. removed the suppressor from the M110.

"Then why not just take out the Russians after they picked off the Chinese? From our position, we could have taken them out easily, especially if we waited until they brought in the truck to load up the blasted thing."

"We need them," Moyer said.

"We need them?" Jose raised an eyebrow.

"Yup, Doc. We need them."

Crispin pulled his nano recon controller from his pack. "Boss, the signal is weaker than I like. I think it's the metal sides of our truck. I need to run an outside antenna. Is there a hole somewhere that I can use to run a wire?"

Rich stood, removed his Benchmade Infidel tactical knife, and drove it through the metal skin of the truck above Crispin's head with a single, violent thrust. He did it again, forming an X. He used the blade to push the metal back, creating an inch-and-a-half hole. "There ya go, Hawkeye. Need anything else?"

Crispin, who had been covering his head with his hands looked at the opening. "Okay, it's official now; you are the scariest man I've ever met."

"I do what I can." Rich sat again.

"I'll be right back." Crispin grabbed his pack and exited. Seconds later, a wire came through the opening. Crispin entered the truck again and attached the wire to the controller he used to guide Voyager. "That's better. The signal is still weak, but it will get stronger as they approach."

Moyer turned to Lev who was following the conversation from the driver's seat. "How much has to be done to free the truck from the camo?"

"Nothing, Boss. I just press on the accelerator and we're gone to go."

"Good to go, Lev, not gone to go."

"Whatever. It will scratch the paint some, but who cares?"

Moyer turned in his seat and started to speak.

"They're moving, Boss." Crispin smiled. "I have an image. Not bad for improvisation."

"You wired the Russian convoy?" Jose said.

"Just one car." Crispin looked sad. "Voyager will never be the same. She was my favorite."

Rich stared at the new guy. "Admit it, you were one of those guys who made a girl robot so you would have someone to take to the prom."

Crispin looked wistful. "Her name was Rosie. You know, like from the Jetsons."

"Stow it, guys. Here's what we're doing next."