She hadn’t been ready to see Jacob’s smiling face on the board with an even higher number.
“Well, if you really need the cash you could always rat on yourself,” Morpheus said dryly.
“You think this is funny?” Bonnie said. “This proves the guy at the park was after us.”
“Got to find the humor in life somewhere,” he said with a shrug. “And it doesn’t prove anything. Could have just been a random guy creeping on you.”
“A random guy creeping?” Bonnie snapped. “They’re offering over a million dollars for Jacob’s head. Every bounty hunter and assassin in North America is going to be after us.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Morpheus said. “The cartels keep the guys in Mexico pretty busy, so it’ll probably only be the ones from the States and Canada.”
Bonnie punched his arm hard enough that he winced.
“Can you take this seriously?”
“I’m very serious,” Morpheus said.
“One problem at a time,” Rogue said. “Do you see anything we can use to bankroll this operation?”
Bonnie tried to focus on the posters again, more aware of the mask clinging to her face than ever. No one would be able to tell she was the one in the signs thanks to the new digital cover identity they’d created, but knowing that anyone in the forum would rat her out to the Volkags in a heartbeat didn’t make her any more comfortable.
“What about this one?” Rogue said. She pulled a tab from one of the posters and passed it to Bonnie.
“A gun manufacturer?”
“Technically just the CEO,” Rogue said. “Apparently they want dirt on him.”
“Why not just read the paper?” Morpheus said. “Dude’s a piece of work.”
Bonnie pulled up a search engine.
“Colton Edward Hamills III,” she muttered.
“This is the asshole who keeps throwing money at the Homeland Defense Force,” Morpheus said.
“They’re the ones that are trying to patrol the border on their own, right?” Rogue said.
“They’re a freaking militia full of racists,” Morpheus said. “They were caught on video shooting at a group of women and children that were trying to cross the border. The cops arrested them, but then Hamills hired a high-powered lawyer and got them off.”
“Sounds like he’s doing a fine job of giving whoever wants to blackmail him things to look for,” Bonnie said.
Morpheus shook his head.
“All of that only made him more popular with the Second Amendment nuts,” he said. “Shares for his company were up ten percent after the HDF idiots got off.”
Bonnie put a hand on his arm.
“Is this one going to be too personal? We can’t afford any mistakes here.”
“I’ll be fine,” Morpheus said.
Bonnie held his gaze for a minute more before turning back to Rogue.
“Is there anything else that looks promising?”
“Couple more targets with intellectual property, but you’re not going to want to hit them,” she said. “Most are legit companies.”
“This fits all your criteria,” Morpheus said. “Why are you hesitating? This asshole deserves it.”
Bonnie glanced at Jacob’s picture on the board. His bright eyes were shining up at the camera, and Bonnie recognized the picture from a family picnic they’d gone on last year. She made a mental note to take down her MyFace profile completely.
“Alright,” she said. “But we only do it if we can get away clean. I don’t want any of this blowing back on us.”
Morpheus nodded and started to hold up a hand.
“Do not say scout’s honor,” Bonnie wagged a finger in his face.
“Um, pinky swear?”
Bonnie rolled her eyes and logged out.
Chapter Seven
Bradley leaned back in his desk, feeling every vertebrae pop as he stretched. The floor was empty except for his cube and Bill’s office where he could hear the faint pulse of music and saw the occasional flicker of a screen.
He stood and headed to the coffeepot for the third time. When he got back to his desk, Bill was locking his now-quiet office, computer bag slung over his shoulder.
“Still here?” he said.
Bradley waved at his monitor. “These reports won’t write themselves.”
“They also won’t explode if you leave them ’til tomorrow.”
“Don’t have anywhere else to be,” Bradley said. “And where else could I get such mind-blowing coffee?”
Bill laughed.
“Well just don’t stay too much later,” he said. Then he checked his watch. “Though I guess that’s relative.”
“Don’t worry, I took my sleeping bag out of the conference room last week.”
“I’m tempted to go make sure you did,” Bill said. “Seriously though, get some rest. Big day tomorrow. Need you sharp.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Bill gave him one more look, then nodded. “Goodnight.”
“’Night, sir,” Bradley said.
Bradley sat back at his computer and started pounding away at the keys. He was about to wrap up for the night when an email popped up in his notification tray.
He almost ignored it, but the subject line caught his attention. Opening the email, he read quickly, eyes going wide as he made it farther down the page.
Looking around to double-check that he was alone, he clicked on the link at the bottom.
The precinct transformed into a dimly lit bar, similar to the one he’d met Haley in, except this one had only one booth. An old overhead lamp swung from the ceiling above the table, throwing a pool of tungsten light over the solo occupant: a little girl in a yellow sundress, her brunette hair braided into pigtails. She had a frothy beer with a bendy straw in front of her.
“Aren’t you a bit young to be drinking?”
The girl looked up at him with bright-blue eyes.
“I can assure you that I’m quite old enough, Agent Pitt.”
The words sounded odd in her high-pitched voice. The girl held out a hand, and another beer with a bendy straw appeared on the other side of the table.
“Join me?”
“Who are you?”
“Someone offering you a drink.”
She nodded at the seat across from her again. Bradley slowly sank into the leather bench and leaned forward to take a sip. The beer was sweet, more of a cider than a beer.
“Your email said you had information on Haley Ramos?”
The girl grinned and nodded.
“I’m assuming you want something in return?”
“Only to see justice served.”
“Mighty altruistic of you,” Bradley said.
“I’m a concerned citizen.”
“I still don’t know your name.”
“You can call me Lucy.”
“Lucy,” Bradley said. “I’ve worked undercover for years, and I’ve developed a decent sense of when something is too good to be true. And every alarm is going off right now.”
“So you don’t want my information?”
Lucy crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip.
“I want to know why you’re really giving it to me,” he said. “And don’t try to say you just want to be helpful.”
Lucy giggled.
“Alright, you’ve got me. I’m getting paid to do this.”
Bradley’s eyebrows rose.
“Why?”
“Because I have bills to pay.”
“No, I mean—”
“You’re wound awful tight,” Lucy said. “But to be honest, as long as the coins clear my account, why should I care?”
“For one, because I can’t just take what you’re telling me,” Bradley said. “I already walked into one too many ambushes this year.”
“Don’t be such a crybaby,” Lucy said. “You’re a cop. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for this job.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to get bl
own up.”
Lucy shrugged.
“I’m only getting paid to make contact and offer this to you,” she said. She pulled an envelope from beneath the table and slid it across. “Delivery confirmed. Up to you how to proceed. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”
Bradley tore the top off the envelope and pulled out a set of black and white pictures. It was clearly Haley and her son outside of a run-down motel. He recognized the place from his days in narcotics. Checking his watch, he thought about calling Bill or Gettis but decided against it.
Instead, he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
Half an hour later, he was parked across the street from the motel. Bradley could see the night clerk at the Factory Row Inn through the smudged windows of the swinging front door. He had his feet on the front desk and a half-smoked cigarette in his mouth, watching something on his phone.
Bradley checked the rest of the street in his mirrors. Aside from a few working girls on the corner behind him and a rogue cat stalking along the far wall, the place was deserted.
He opened the door and quickly crossed the street. There was a digital chime as he pushed open the door, but rather than looking up, the clerk started laughing, which turned into a hacking cough, at whatever he was watching. Bradley silently waited for the man to finish suffering the consequences of his cigarettes.
The lobby looked more like a gas station convenience store than a hotel. Shelves lined each wall with toiletries, energy drinks, and candy, and at least thirty take-out menus were tacked to a corkboard on the fall wall. The floor had once been a white-and-black checkerboard, but it was more of a muted brown now.
The clerk finally got his coughing under control and looked up at Bradley without taking his feet off the desk.
“Hourly or daily?”
Bradley held up his badge.
“Hourly or daily, officer?”
“Looking for someone,” Bradley said.
“Boy, girl, pig?”
The man laughed and took another drag of his cigarette.
Bradley frowned. He pulled his phone out and brought up Haley’s picture in front of the sign out front. “This woman is staying here.”
“We don’t have anyone staying here.”
Bradley twisted around dramatically to look out the window at the half-full parking lot.
“Overnight parking,” the clerk continued.
“Look, I really don’t give a shit what you may or may not be doing,” Bradley said. “I’m just trying to find a missing woman and her boy.”
“She doesn’t look missing to me,” the clerk said.
“She’s in trouble,” Bradley said. “I’ll come back with a warrant if I have to.”
“You know, I do remember her now. She was some kind of model, doing a shoot out front. Must be where that picture came from. But if you think you need a warrant, by all means.”
Bradley ground his teeth but decided not to push it. Instead, he tucked his phone back in his pocket and walked back out the door.
He was about to get in his car when a woman yelled from behind him.
“Hey, cutie, leaving so soon?”
He looked around and saw the young woman across the street in high heels and platinum blonde hair with a line of red down the left side.
“Not sure this is really the right area of town for me,” Bradley said. He started across the street.
“It’s not so bad once you get to know it,” the girl said.
“Oh? How long have you been getting to know it?”
“Long enough,” she said. “But if you want to go back to the Factory, I can get us a room and show you the sights.”
“I’m sure that would be quite the tour,” Bradley said. He pulled out his phone and flipped to the picture of Haley. “You seen this woman in your time familiarizing yourself with this block?”
The woman didn’t look at the photo, instead gazing at him intensely.
“You’re a cop?”
“I’m looking for my friend,” he said. “Her name is Haley, and her son”—he flipped to the next picture—“is Jacob. Really cute kid, loves fire trucks. Do you know if they’re staying here?”
“So you’re not a cop?”
“Do you see a squad car? I just need some help finding Haley.”
The woman sagged against the brick wall and looked down at the phone.
“They were here, but I haven’t seen them.”
“When?”
“This morning,” she said. “But they came out with all their stuff, and I haven’t seen their car again.”
“What kind of car were they driving?”
“Uh, a silver sedan? Maybe a Chevy?”
“Do you happen to remember the plates?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed again.
“You are a cop.”
Bradley sighed.
“Would it help if I said I really am looking for her as a friend? The Volkags are after them, and I need to find them first.”
The woman shivered when he said Volkag.
“What’d they do?”
“Do you know where they went?”
The girl shook her head.
“They were only here a couple days. On the second floor, but I don’t know which room.”
“Anything else?”
The girl shook her head.
“Alright, thank you.”
He started heading back across the street.
“Officer?”
Bradley looked back.
“I hope you find them,” she said. “He looked like a sweet kid.”
Chapter Eight
Haley parked the rental van with the “DC Metro Power” magnet Dana made on the side two houses down from the Hamills estate, which was really the only way to describe it. Ten-foot white walls, one-man guardhouse upfront, and black iron gates; the whole establishment looked like it belonged in the English countryside, not a suburban DC neighborhood.
Cutting the engine, she climbed into the back, popped the back hatch and unspooled a blue ethernet cable until she had enough to loop it over the control box at the base of the pole. She tucked a wireless antenna just behind the wood pole, out of sight from the guardhouse.
Then she climbed back inside the van and opened her laptop.
“Anything?” Dana said from the front seat.
“Couple networks, all encrypted,” Haley said.
“Need me to go in?”
“Not yet; let me try a few things.”
Haley typed in silence for almost half an hour before she looked up again.
“I’m out of tricks,” she said.
“Time for Dana the power girl to work her magic.”
Haley climbed out and grabbed the cable and antenna while Dana shuffled into the driver’s seat. She cranked the van, and they were moving before Haley was fully seated in the back.
Dana made a U-turn and rolled to a stop next to the guardhouse. Haley slouched down so she could barely see out the front window.
“Need to upgrade the firmware on your power junction,” Dana said as they rolled to a stop.
A rent-a-cop pushed himself up from his stool, no small feat in itself, and waddled over to the van.
“We weren’t notified about any work,” he said. “We normally get a heads up if you guys are coming out.”
Dana shrugged.
“Not my department,” she said. “I just go where they tell me.”
“Well, I can’t let you in without authorization.”
“Fine with me,” Dana said. “Don’t want to be in out in this heat anyway.”
She grabbed a clipboard and started writing a note.
“Customer security did not allow access to premises,” she said as she wrote. “What’s your name?”
“Why?”
“If your boss loses power, I don’t want to lose my job.”
The man’s eyes narrowed.
“You throwing me under the bus?”
Dana shrugged again.
<
br /> “You’re following protocol,” she said. “I’m sure you can just say that if your boss gets pissed. May even thank you for having a candlelit dinner with the missus.”
The guard looked at the house, then back at Dana.
“How long will it take?”
“Maybe an hour,” Dana said. “Depends on how much power they’re pulling.”
“Alright, make it quick. And we’ve got cameras all over so don’t do anything shady.”
“If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that,” Dana muttered.
The guard stepped back, and the gate swung open.
Dana drove the van through and parked at the back of the house. Haley opened the van’s back door and poked her head out.
“Camera at seven o’clock,” she said.
“Let’s make it look legit,” Dana said.
Dana used a lockpick gun to unlock and open the junction box at the back of the house and pretended to fiddle with the components inside.
While Dana went about making their ruse appear believable, Haley set up the antenna, so it was pointed out the back of the van.
“Wireless network is locked down,” she said. “But it looks like there are a few devices broadcasting . . .”
“Can you see what they are?”
“I think this is one of those new smart fridges,” Haley said. “Tells you when you’re out of milk and whatnot.”
Dana shook her head.
“Guess it’s too much effort to go over and look yourself?”
“Don’t complain too much,” Haley said. “I think this is our way in.”
The fort was straight out of the civil war. Sloping earthworks topped with shining cannon tubes. A Confederate flag flew below Old Glory, a combination that still made Bonnie scratch her head.
There was a moat around the fort’s base. A wooden drawbridge was raised up in front of the main gate.
Bonnie walked around the moat until she found a thin strip of land that led to a pair of stainless steel refrigerator doors built into the towering wall. She was about to start down the pathway when the doors swung open, releasing a cloud of fog. A young woman about Bonnie’s age raced out of the mist with an armful of groceries.
She didn’t look at Bonnie as she flew past, and Bonnie had to step sideways to avoid being run over. When Bonnie turned back to watch the woman go, she was already a speck in the distance.
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