Evidence planted in his house and uploaded through various digital sources would lead investigators to suspect Fisher had been murdered, along with Detective Peck and a nuclear reactor engineer, to conceal the California Liberation Movement’s involvement in the sabotage of the Del Mar station. Grabbing Fisher at the house required the entire team, and exposed the kidnapping to a neighborhood full of witnesses. Still, it was better than losing control of the operation. If Fisher attempted to leave with Quinn, then Leeds would pounce.
CHAPTER 28
Loud, muffled music boomed from the other side of the garage bay door, causing Nathan to freeze in place behind his wife’s mini-SUV. He held a five-gallon plastic can of gasoline in place against his chest, the forty-pound mass tugging at his arms. The music stopped abruptly, replaced by the low growl of a car engine. From inside the closed garage, he couldn’t tell if the car had parked on the street or in his driveway. Either way, it was close, and he wasn’t expecting visitors. He eased the gasoline can into the back of Keira’s vehicle, careful not to make any noise, and tiptoed quickly into the house.
His wife stood in the kitchen with their largest kitchen knife in front of her face, peeking down the short hallway leading to the foyer. Nathan edged toward the opposite side of the hallway entrance and peeked around the corner. A shadow loomed behind the front door’s frosted, shatterproof-glass panels. An insistent knock followed, startling both of them. Nathan mouthed, “I got it,” followed by “Get Owen.” She nodded and disappeared into the bedroom hallway, whispering for their son.
Nathan reached into his front pocket and withdrew a folding utility knife with his right hand, extending the blade with his thumb. He kept the serrated blade hidden behind his thigh as he walked toward the door. A second round of heavy knocking made him jump. He stood to the side of the door, worried that his visitor might kick it in and knock him down.
“No solicitors, please,” said Nathan.
“I have a delivery from Sergeant Major Fisher,” said a male voice. “Two phones.”
“What’s your name?”
“David Quinn,” said the voice. “I’ll hold up my ID card.”
Nathan moved behind the door and touched a small black screen embedded between the frosted panels. A young man, with the same high and tight haircut Nathan’s dad had worn apparently since the dawn of time, stared at the screen for a moment before raising the ID card. Nathan pressed the screen a few times to zoom in on the card. QUINN, DAVID S. CAPT/O3 US MARINE CORPS ACTIVE. The picture pretty much matched every white Marine at Camp Pendleton, and Nathan hadn’t seen David Quinn since high school, when both of their fathers had served together in the First Radio Battalion. He opened the door, figuring it really didn’t matter. If this wasn’t David Quinn, a single reinforced door wasn’t going to change the final outcome.
As soon as the man entered the house, he held an index finger to his lips and quickly reached up to Nathan’s right ear with his other hand, removing the small wireless earpiece synched to Nathan’s personal phone. The man took a new device out of his front jeans pocket and offered it to Nathan. Quinn leaned in close and whispered, “It’s your dad. You listen only. I have it in retro mode—phone to ear,” patting Nathan on the shoulder.
Nathan took the phone and put it to his ear, immediately hearing his dad’s voice.
“Nate? Are you there? Nathan? If you can hear me, press a numeric key.”
Nathan pressed 3.
“All right, Nate. Don’t say a word. Just listen. I’m going to make this quick so David can do his thing. You were right about this Sentinel business. It’s bad news, and there’s a better-than-good chance they’re operating in California. We don’t know if you’re in danger, but we’re not taking any chances. The trip to Reno is canceled. David is going take you right to Camp Pendleton and hide you on base until we can come up with a plan. You have to trust David and do what he asks, no matter how dangerous or ridiculous it sounds. He’s going to sneak you out of there, somehow. Press another key if you’re good to go with this.”
Nathan pressed 3 again.
“All right,” said his dad. “Nod at Quinn and keep the phone to your ear. Let him lead the conversation.”
He nodded at the Marine, who wasted no time launching into his performance.
“Sorry to barge in on you like this,” said Quinn. “I wasn’t sure if you left.”
“It’s no problem,” said Nathan, pausing for a second to think of something else to say. “I really appreciate you dropping off these phones. They’ll come in handy if the police hacked our other devices.”
“Yeah, I’d leave those behind before you hit the road. They can track your position, too,” said Quinn, walking into the kitchen. “Do you mind if I get a drink of water?”
Over the phone, Nathan’s dad said, “He’s going to dunk your other phones in case they’ve been turned into listening devices.”
“Go ahead,” said Nathan. “Glasses are to the right of the sink. There’s a pitcher of water in the fridge.”
“Nathan?” asked Keira from the back of the bedroom hallway. “Is everything all right?”
“Totally fine, honey,” said Nathan. “One of dad’s Marine friends dropped off a few untraceable phones.”
“Our dads served together in the Fifth Marines,” said Quinn, finding a glass in the cabinet. “Back in their sergeant days.”
Keira entered the kitchen slowly, holding the knife like she was ready to use it. Nathan held a finger to his lips and removed her earpiece before offering her the phone.
“Keira,” he said, handing her earpiece to the Marine, “this is David Quinn.”
“Nice to meet you. Thank you for helping out,” she said, silently mouthing an obscenity at Nathan before putting the phone to her ear.
“Marines do what they can for other Marines. Semper fi,” said Quinn, opening the refrigerator and removing the pitcher.
Nathan could tell from Keira’s expression that his father was speaking to her.
Quinn poured a glass of water and took a long drink, setting the glass on the counter. Without warning, he swiped Nathan and Keira’s personal phones from the kitchen table and dropped them into the pitcher, holding a finger to his lips. He added the two wireless earpieces to the water before returning the pitcher to its refrigerator shelf and closing the door softly.
Keira looked at Nathan and shook her head angrily, handing the phone back. “I’ll help Owen with the rest of his stuff,” she said, keeping the knife in her hand as she left.
“Sounds good, honey,” said Nathan. “I’d like to be on the road by ten, maybe a few minutes earlier.”
“We’ll be ready,” she called out from the hallway.
Quinn pulled a message pad off the refrigerator and wrote while he talked.
“The phones come with two hundred minutes each, and unlimited messaging, which should be more than enough to get you out of the state. Avoid calling any in-state numbers you regularly call. The police might have a reciprocal trace activated that will lead right back to these phones. If you screw up and call a number you shouldn’t, ditch the phone and use the backup. That’s why I bought two.”
While he continued droning on about the phones, Quinn slid the message pad across the table for him to read:
Gather family and get ready to leave. Plan on two mins max between my departure and a text telling you to leave. Take ladder from garage and climb wall directly behind backyard. Any dogs there?
Nathan looked up from the paper, not hearing a word that Quinn was saying, and whispered, “No dogs.”
He continued to read:
Get to Summerdale and turn right. Do not stop for any reason. I will meet you on Summerdale, and we will take my jeep to Pendleton. Must be ready to go when I text. Understand everything? Good to go?
Nathan read the message again, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Maybe he should just call the police. Tell them someone was trying break into the house with a gun—anythin
g to get them there fast. He could tell them about the boats in the water. Request some kind of witness-protection program. Anything but this. If Sentinel was out there watching, how could Quinn pull this off?
Quinn’s finger pressed against the last question on the piece of paper, jarring him out of the self-induced trance. He looked up at Quinn, unable to give him an immediate answer. The Marine took the phone out of Nathan’s hand and whispered, “He’s having doubts” to his father, quickly handing it back to him.
“Nate. David spotted four very suspicious vehicles within a block of your house. Two cargo vans and two Suburban-style SUVs. That’s overkill for surveillance. He thinks they plan to grab you tonight,” said his dad. “I trust his judgment on this. You have to get out of there. Press a number twice and hang up if you can do this.”
Nathan’s chest tightened, and he suddenly felt nauseated. He took a few long breaths before pushing his index finger against the question on the paper and nodding. Quinn put a strong hand on his shoulder and nodded back with a grimly determined look. Nathan pressed two numbers on the screen’s pad, followed by “End Call.”
“I should get out of your hair. Sounds like you have a long night ahead of you,” said Quinn. “Good luck, man. Grab some energy drinks or something on the way out. I remember a few midnight drives to Vegas that almost ended unexpectedly. Once you get past Barstow, the drive becomes more of an endurance event—day or night.”
“We’re going to fill a thermos with coffee,” said Nathan, barely squeaking the words past his lips.
Nathan started his watch’s chronograph time as soon as he slid the deadbolt on the front door. Two minutes would go fast.
CHAPTER 29
Leeds studied the screens as David Quinn walked out of the house. All surveillance feeds indicated that he’d left alone. Thermal and Doppler showed the Fisher family inside the house, continuing to prepare for their imminent departure. Nathan Fisher returned to the garage while his wife and son continued to pack for the trip in the bedrooms. Electro-physio scans further confirmed that he wasn’t watching sophisticated thermal decoys. Hudson assured him that his team was tracking three live heartbeats.
On the surface, the phone drop didn’t raise any significant alarms. Conversation inside the house was a little stilted, but it didn’t surprise Leeds. Nathan Fisher and David Quinn had no direct connection, and they were both nervous—Fisher for obvious reasons, Quinn because it didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand the implications of delivering untraceable phones to someone about to leave the state. Still, he didn’t like the timing. Quinn showing up an hour before Fisher was supposed to leave bothered him.
“The jeep is clean?” asked Leeds.
“We hit it with every sensor,” answered Hudson. “Nobody hiding in the back, and we didn’t detect any signal emissions. Just a dude and his jeep from what I can tell.”
“All right. Watch the house like a fucking hawk. I need to know if you detect anything unusual.”
“Funny you say that. I have a sound-quality degradation inside the house. The laser microphones are still picking up sound, but …”
“But what?” asked Leeds.
“We lost the phone feeds exactly three minutes and forty-three seconds ago.”
“The batteries are internal,” said Leeds, stating the obvious. “Any way he can shut the phones down?”
“I’d still have control,” said Hudson. “I think he deep-sixed them somehow.”
“He didn’t leave the kitchen,” said Leeds.
“Sir?” It was one of the techs in the van. “The phones are still transmitting, but all we’re getting is a low-frequency hum. Barely that. Actually, only one phone is transmitting. We’re trying to separate the signals.”
Hudson and Leeds spoke at the same time: “Refrigerator?”
There was no other explanation. At some point during Quinn’s brief visit to the house, Nathan and Keira Fisher’s phones had been surreptitiously placed in the refrigerator. They could have done this in the open, and it wouldn’t have raised any suspicion. Both of them had openly discussed the burners with the other phones still operational, so why the secrecy about disabling the phones? And how did they pull this off so quietly? Something was off.
“Where is the jeep?” asked Leeds, searching for it on the windshield HUD.
“Just turned left on Giraldo,” reported Hudson.
“Backdoor,” said Leeds, addressing the team in the SUV behind Fisher’s house, “make sure the jeep keeps going north on Giraldo.”
“This is Backdoor. Do you want us to follow him out?”
“Negative,” said Leeds. “Just visually confirm, from your position, that the jeep continues north.” He didn’t want to pull them away. If anything else appeared out of place, he’d hit the house immediately.
“I have the jeep passing Summerdale, headed south,” reported an operative in the SUV on the same street. “It’s gone.”
Leeds stared at the various displays in front of him, searching for an excuse to launch the raid. Nathan Fisher returned to the kitchen for a moment, then checked on his wife and son in the bedrooms. Several seconds later, he headed to the garage and lingered behind one of the cars like before. He’d probably just carried a few suitcases or bags from the bedrooms that needed to be packed. Leeds wasn’t finding the excuse he needed on the screens.
“Anything on Quinn’s personal phone?” asked Leeds, turning to face his team of surveillance technicians.
The back of the van resembled a naval ship’s combat information center—dark except for deep-blue lighting and the subdued glows of several dimmed screens. The technicians sat back-to-back in harness-equipped seats bolted to the floor, facing side-by-side flat-screen displays fixed to the sides of the van. Beyond the techs, a thick blackout curtain blocked the surveillance hub from computers, servers, and electro-generators that powered the high-tech surveillance architecture. A small portion of the space beyond the curtain contained specialized equipment and additional weapons.
Dan Vega, his lead mobile-surveillance tech, shook his head. “I’m not getting any kind of response from Quinn’s phone.”
“He was using it when he pulled up,” said Leeds.
“He wasn’t using the phone registered to his name and address through Verizon,” said Vega.
Or, Quinn strongly suspected Nathan Fisher was under direct surveillance. Surveillance he managed to identify on his wandering loop through the neighborhood. Shit. Anything could be in play right now, including a call to the police. Leeds and his team would have to depart immediately if the cops got involved. He couldn’t risk that. If they moved now, they could be in and out of the house by the time any police units responded. Leeds pressed a button on his dashboard command tablet, dialing a number he’d hoped to avoid using until they’d successfully grabbed Fisher. His earphone crackled.
“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until later,” said Flagg.
“Fisher just had a visitor. A Marine infantry captain with serious counterinsurgency training. I don’t have time to explain, but something is off about the visit. I want to hit Fisher now.”
“Then do it,” said Flagg. “I’m not sure why you’re bothering me with this.”
“I’m going off a gut feeling.”
“That’s why I put you in charge of my most critical operations. You have good instincts. Don’t lose Fisher or you’ll be mopping the floors around here tomorrow,” said Flagg, abruptly ending the call.
More like mopping the floor with my head.
He couldn’t afford to take a chance on Quinn’s visit. “All units. We roll on the house in thirty seconds,” said Leeds. “Hudson. Start the cleanup process.”
CHAPTER 30
Nathan eased the aluminum extension ladder through the door leading into the house from the garage, careful not to bump it against the door frame or one of the hallway walls. The ladder made a distinctive sound when jostled, and he didn’t want to arouse any suspicion. He pointed the
front end of the ladder toward the kitchen and walked slowly down the hallway, frequently checking the back end to make sure it stayed clear of the walls.
His family stood between the kitchen table and the open glass sliding door, shouldering the bug-out packs that had been stored with the family readiness gear in the room behind the garage. As soon as Quinn had departed, Nathan pulled Keira and Owen away from packing their suitcases and told them to grab the prepacked rucksacks. Each individually designed bug-out pack contained enough basic supplies, food, and extra clothing to last roughly forty-eight hours on foot. The packs would slow them down, but under the nebulous circumstances, he felt better knowing they had some measure of independence if something happened to Quinn.
He carried the ladder to the sliding door and cautiously lowered it to the tile floor. Keira stood next to Owen, holding the phone given to them by Quinn. She looked up from the device and whispered, “Nothing yet.” He nodded and returned to the garage to lock the door leading into the house.
Back in the kitchen, Nathan grabbed his own light-brown bug-out pack from the table and slid his arms through the shoulder straps. He let the weight settle on his back before connecting the chest strap and securing the heavy pack tightly against his frame. When he looked up, he met his son’s worried gaze. Owen clutched his pack’s shoulder straps with both hands tightly enough to turn his knuckles white.
“Come here, buddy,” Nathan whispered, beckoning him closer.
Eyes open wide, his son hurried to his side.
Nathan crouched beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve probably figured this out already,” he whispered to Nathan, “but we’re in danger right now. I don’t have time to explain it, but I need you to do exactly what we say, when we say it.”
Fractured State (Fractured State Series Book 1) Page 14