Eraserbyte (byte series Book 7)

by Cat Connor

  I let myself fall behind the group as we walked across the Seers parking lot and called Sandra. She took care of the BOLO and added a ‘do not approach interview in progress’ comment. Just in case. While I lagged behind, I made a quick call to Mitch.

  “Hey,” I said. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” One word and I could hear his smile.

  “Just wanted to say hi,” I said, watching the group move away. The ground shook. I stumbled. The air filled with thick smoke. Choking me. “Mitch!”

  “I’m here.” His words cut a channel in the smoke. “What’s wrong?” I could see Kurt and the women, hazy shapes in the smoke moving away. No sign that they’d felt the ground shake.

  “Did you feel an earthquake?” I asked. Knowing it wasn’t an earthquake. They were rare in Virginia. I’d never forget the last one: images of buildings evacuating into the streets, overlaid with fresh images of rubble and destruction. Facades fell into crowded streets. People screamed. Smoke billowed.

  Breathe.

  “Ellie? There was no earthquake. What happened?”

  The smoke disappeared.

  “The ground shook and the air filled with smoke.” Panic flowed in. “Where are you?”

  “At work.”

  “Go home, please.”

  “El, come on, I’ll be fine. There was no earthquake.”

  I closed my eyes. Mitch didn’t see the smoke this time. Maybe he would be fine. Maybe’s ass. It didn’t happen until I talked to him.

  “I know it wasn’t an earthquake,” I replied. “Something is going to happen.”

  “El, I’ll be fine. I’m at work.”

  Yeah, I’m sure that’s what everyone at the Navy Yard thought too.

  “Humor me, please. I’m asking. Get out of D.C. Go home.” Smoke wafted across my line of vision. “Go to my place.”

  “Ellie, I’m working.”

  “Mitch, please …”

  Silence.

  “All right.” Reluctance filled his voice. “I’ll work from your place. I can do this remotely.”

  “Thank you.” I realized I’d been holding my breath as I exhaled and tension left my shoulders.

  “Be careful, El.”

  “I will. Go home now, Mitch. Don’t wait.” I smiled, but it was more from relief than pleasure. I knew he heard it. “See you soon.”

  “You will.”

  I hung up and the smile and smoke left. Something else was going to explode and I didn’t know where, except that it could be near Mitch’s office. I ran to catch up. No one had missed me, or if they did, they didn’t say anything. Kurt remained engaged in conversation with Danni.

  Trudi and Susan weren’t talking. They were listening. There was something about those two. Curious.

  The mall was busy, bright, and overly warm. Dodging shoppers was the only way to get through and up to the restaurant. A super-efficient server seated us. He seemed to know the women. All smiles and sweetness as he offered to bring their usual. Trudi declined, stating they’d like coffee.

  She ordered for Danni and Susan. The two woman accepted that, so I guessed it was normal.

  Kurt and I ordered coffees.

  As I listened to Kurt talking to Danni, I was acutely aware of the other two and what they were doing. They were watching not just Danni and us, but the bar in general. Curiouser and curiouser. I expected a white rabbit to race through the place at any minute muttering about how late he was.

  I listened to Kurt chatting about D.C. and asking where they’d come from and why they were here. All very friendly. The replies however were stilted and felt rehearsed. At the mention of research, I was all ears. For the first time, Danni had said something that felt true. All thoughts of curious white rabbits disappeared.

  “Research did you say, Danni?” I rested my elbows on the table.

  “Yes, for a series I’m writing.”

  “Oh, you write?”

  Her posture changed. I felt sure she hadn’t meant to mention research or writing at all. Her arms crossed, hands holding her arms. Restraining herself?

  “Yes, I write.”

  Trudi looked up and smiled. “Danni writes thrillers, set in Northern Virginia and D.C.”

  “Would I have read them?” I asked Trudi, getting ready to ask if Danni used her own name or a pen name.

  Danni’s hands gripped her arms tighter.

  “Maybe,” Trudi replied.

  Danni’s fingers relaxed a little. “I write a thriller series, my publisher calls it the Gabrielle Connor Series.”

  “Really?” Kurt asked. He inserted a good deal of surprise and mingled it with unrestrained joy. “That’s great. I’ve read all the GCS books.” He turned in his seat to face Danni. “Caro Clancy writes them?”

  “Yes, she does.” With a small smile, Danni extended her hand to Kurt. “I’m Caro Clancy, pleased to meet you.” They shook.

  Kurt bumped me. “Remember that book I told you about?”

  “Which one again?”

  “I See You.”

  “Yes, I do recall that one.” I gave it a second for effect. “So, you write under another name?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I See You, is that the first in the series?”

  “Yes, that’s the first in the series,” she said.

  “Nice. Kurt here was raving about your book,” I replied. “I’ll have to look for them.”

  She beamed. Movement caught my eye and smoke poured out of the walls. I blinked, the smoke cleared. This smoky hallucination thing wasn’t ideal.

  Kurt launched into more about that book and mentioned others. Either he was cheating and using his phone to glean information from the internet or he’d genuinely read them all and hadn’t let on.

  I watched and listened. He’d read them all, all right. Oh my God. He was into the main character big time. Wasn’t she supposedly me? We did share the same first name, Gabrielle. I shuddered. No one uses the G word.

  A smile wandered over my lips. It was pretty funny that Kurt liked the main character so much. Our timing sucked. We came close to being a couple once or twice, but it would’ve broken up the team. Longevity of Delta A was more important than any relationship. My job was more important.

  Right then, I knew that was no longer true.

  Mitch was more important than Delta A and that was okay, because he’d never make me choose. I flipped back to the conversation and Kurt babbling about scenes from the latest book. That was new. I’d never seen Kurt babble like that. Fascinating, just fascinating. Kurt was capable of fan-boy behavior. I loved it.

  Trudi and Susan looked on. Their coffees arrived. I saw the server walking our way with more coffees. Three this time. Impressive. I waited until he left. I saw something shiny around Danni’s wrist when she reached for her coffee. A bracelet? Her hand moved to take sugar from the container in the middle of the table. Shiny, yes. Bracelet, yes. I caught sight of a black edge on one side and suspected it was a pretty shiny bracelet that concealed a flash drive. Bet whatever was on that made fascinating reading.

  We needed to get to the bit where we could ask about the bombing and their movements and the possibility they were being tracked. We needed to get to that bit.

  Impatient? Yes. Lives were at stake.

  I adjusted my jacket and pulled my ID wallet out of my pocket. I opened it and set on the table. Silence fell. I folded the wallet and put it back in my pocket.

  Serious voice now. “This is great but we need to get to the bottom of a situation that you may not be aware of, but involves you three.”

  I watched. Who would speak first?

  Danni.

  “What situation?” She was calm. Calm is good. I preferred calm to the freewheeling alternatives.

  “The bombing of the Navy Yard,” I replied. “You three were there. To us, that’s suspicious. You entered a restricted gate. Again suspicious.”

  At the mention of the gate, Trudi and Susan looked at each other. I knew that look. Surprise. They didn�
�t know.

  “Danni? Did you know it’s restricted access through the gates on M Street?” Kurt asked.

  She nodded. “It was raining and crappy and the guard let us in.”

  “We know. We were there. Now is probably a good time to tell you we’ve been watching your movements for a few days. Your behavior triggered a flag,” I said.

  “How so?” Trudi asked.

  “Well, until the Navy Yard exploded, we were trying to figure out what you were doing visiting places like the Department of Energy—”

  “And after?” Danni said.

  “After the Navy Yard, a BOLO went out on the three of you. Wanted for Questioning.”

  Danni nodded, as if she expected my answer. She probably did – and she didn’t ask what a BOLO was.

  “We’re here researching for new books,” Danni replied. “While we were in New York we went to a book launch at the Mysterious Bookshop. Talk to Michael Connelly or Reed Farrell Coleman or Sara J Henry, they were all there. They can tell you who I am.”

  “I know who you are now,” I said. “I’m interested in your companions and your movements and in whoever is watching you.”

  Trudi and Susan looked at each other and then at Danni.

  Danni smiled. “They’re my Admins,” she said. “Why is someone watching us?”

  “What do admins do?” I asked, ignoring her question for the time being.

  Trudi replied, “Not a bloody thing.” She and Susan laughed.

  Danni smiled. “That’s not true.”

  I knew it wasn’t true. I’d seen them watching her and watching the bar. They protected her. But why?

  “So, tell me Danni, what do they do?”

  “They watch my back. They travel with me. They bring me wine and chocolate when life is shitty. They are my two best friends.”

  Trudi nodded. Susan smiled.

  “Any of those things lead to exploding buildings?” I asked.

  “No,” the blonde women replied in unison.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Danni said.

  No, it wasn’t. Something happened when I asked that question. Nothing I could put my finger on, but something changed. And saying something is ridiculous is not denial.

  “How many times have you been near the White House?”

  “About three,” Danni replied.

  “Have you been on a tour of the inside?”

  Kurt dropped his hand onto the seat between us and tapped my leg, once. He saw something. “No. We’ve walked right around it twice.”

  “Shame you haven’t signed up for a tour. The White House is well worth the effort. Tours can be organized months in advance.” They could be organized months in advance: foreign nationals wanting a tour were subject to a Secret Service background check and had to apply through their embassy.

  Kurt tapped me again.

  “We’d have liked to visit the White House,” Trudi said.

  “Why didn’t you organize a tour?”

  Trudi’s eyes flicked toward Danni for a nanosecond, one blink, and I would’ve missed it.

  “Ran out of time,” Danni said, attempting to end the conversation with her tone.

  “Maybe next time,” I said with a smile and made a mental note to check with the Secret Service and find out if any of their names cropped up on tour requests or tours. “Okay, anywhere else you’ve visited more than once?”

  “My turn,” Danni said. “Who is watching us?”

  Okay, that was fair.

  “We don’t know. We need to find out. Have you noticed anything?”

  The three of them shook their heads. “Let me know if you think of anything. Now back to my question, where have you visited more than once?”

  Danni pulled a notebook from her bag and flipped through several pages. “Capitol Hill, Department of Energy, two museums, the Hard Rock Café and the Smithsonian Castle,” Danni replied. “And the Hoover Building.”

  I looked at Kurt.

  The Hoover Building. Fuck. Bad enough that The Hard Rock Café was right across the road from work without them also lurking at the offices.

  “We don’t do tours, so what were you doing at the Hoover Building?”

  “We took a lot of photos from outside,” Danni replied. “A lot of me outside the building, at various entrances.”

  “Okay. Which museums in particular?”

  “The Museum of Natural History and Newseum.”

  I smelled smoke and scanned the room. Nothing.

  Newseum. Mitch’s office was nearby. Seeing the smoke when I was talking to him now made sense and I didn’t like it.

  “Okay. Drink your coffee. We’ll talk more in a minute.” I stood up and left the table. From the few feet away in a quiet corner, I called Sandra.

  “The list is … White House, Capitol Hill, Department of Energy, Hard Rock Café, The Castle, Natural History Museum and Newseum. Our building. Soft targets get swept first … I want EDD teams in The Hard Rock Café, The Castle and Natural History Museum first. Get those places swept for explosives. Now.”

  Security-wise, the other locations were harder for people to access, or there were multiple security measures. Metal detectors, bag-scanning machines, hands-on bag searches by trained personnel. I knew they had metal detectors at the Natural History Museum but it was still, in my eyes, a likely target, especially if the bomber wanted to hit the public. And kids. The timing of the Navy Yard bombs weighed on my mind.

  “Sending the alerts now, Ellie. Anything else?”

  “Yes, get hold of Tierney at Langley. Tell him we need one of his conference rooms for a Director-level meeting.”

  “Doing it. What time?”

  I looked at my watch. “Two hours. I want the Directors there in two hours. We’ll meet them in Langley.”

  “And the women?”

  “Need them watched, but I want them to carry on doing their thing. I need to monitor them and find out who is watching.”

  “Setting up surveillance teams now.”

  This is why we offered Sandra a permanent position in Delta A. She just does it. Whatever I asked she did, God alone knows how. The woman is gold.

  “Close surveillance and protection, Sandra.” I wanted two teams but realistically I could only assign one. “Get Kris and Jerry from SWAT into plain clothes and put them on this.” I trusted them with Mitch, so I trusted them with this.

  “Already on it, my esteemed leader.”

  I laughed.

  “There’s something else. Who do we know in the Secret Service?”

  “Charlie Prendergast,” she replied. “You want me to set up something?”

  “Please. Tell him I don’t care where or how but we need to meet today.”

  “Consider it done, O Genie of the Bullpen.”

  “See you this afternoon.”

  I slipped my phone back into my pocket, took a breath, and sat back in my chair at the table.

  “I have nothing to base this on, but I don’t think you three were responsible for the Navy Yard, I think someone would like me to think you were.” That was a lie but not a really big one. Chance’s comments cemented in my mind. I doubted Trudi or Susan were responsible for anything but there was something dark lurking under the surface with Danni. As soon as I mentioned the Navy Yard, I saw it again in her. Uncomfortable? Maybe. It was something.

  No one spoke.

  “This is what is going to happen. You’re going to put my phone number in your phones. You’re going to carry on being tourists. If you see anything that doesn’t feel right, if you see a person you’ve seen before while you’re out and about, if you think someone is following you, call me.”

  They nodded.

  “You won’t be alone. Don’t think for one minute I’m turning you loose. You will be protected.” I crossed my fingers under the table. “Nothing will happen to you.”

  Danni looked at me. “You can guarantee our safety knowing there is a terrorist out there?” She sounded sincere and worried. There wasn’t
anything to tip me to her being part of the situation, yet I wasn’t convinced.

  “Absolutely.”

  Liar liar pants on fire.

  “I doubt that, but either way, this is our trip and we still have stuff to see,” Danni said. She wrote on a clear page in her notebook. I wanted to get a look at that book and her flash drive.

  Trudi and Susan agreed with Danni that they had places to see. I passed out my cards and watched them put the numbers into their phones.

  “Now text me your names so I have a record of your cell numbers, please.”

  They did. My phone chirped as the texts arrived. I added them to my contacts.

  “Enjoy your coffees, stay close to Fairfax today. Tomorrow resume your sightseeing. Any clue where you’ll go?”

  “We wanted to go to Rosslyn and walk over Key Bridge then up M Street to Pennsylvania.”

  “Okay, that sounds good. Enjoy.” I paused. “You want to photograph the Starbucks on M, don’t you?” I said to Danni. “You know the history?”

  “Yes, I do and yes, if you mean the triple murder in nineteen ninety-seven.”

  I looked up as Chance strolled toward me. A speech bubble grew from the side of his head. I read the black comic sans words. She knows about you being shot near the Firehook and Lee’s shooting outside Ford’s Theater. Chance winked and walked right past.

  “Anywhere else you want to visit because of acts of violence?”

  She smiled. “Yes, Ford’s Theater and the Firehook Bakery.”

  “What specifically draws you to those places?” I was pretty sure it wasn’t the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.

  “I know that an FBI agent was wounded going back from the Firehook with coffee.”

  I nodded. Yes, I was. Not fun. Having Danni say that was confirmation of what Chance told me, in case I needed reminding how helpful my hallucinations are.

  “And Ford’s Theater?”

  “The same agent saved another agent’s life outside Ford’s Theater.”

  And again, yes I did. Not something I wanted to relive.

  “Well, only one of those events is public knowledge and that was the coffee shop shooting.”