Chapter 35
I buffed my face with both hands. The short sleep had made me feel worse. My body may as well have been drugged and wrapped in chains.
Aunt Margie stuck her head in the bedroom door. “Emily all right?”
“For the moment. She’s on her way here. She’s being chased too.”
My aunt’s eyes widened.
“I have to use your computer again.”
She waved a hand. “Go ahead.”
I sat down at my aunt’s small desk and searched for Homeland Security. The organization had to be our saving grace. They’d know what to do. If I’d had my head on straight—and more sleep—I’d have called them hours ago.
The website popped up: www.dhs.gov. I searched the home page for a phone number. Not too far down in the middle was a How Do I? box. The top link read “Report Suspicious Activity.” Yes. I clicked on it and read.
Report Suspicious Activity
What You Need To Know
Prompt and detailed reporting of suspicious activities can help prevent violent crimes or terrorist attacks. If you see suspicious activity, please report it to your local police department. Local law enforcement officers can respond quickly. Once they assess the situation, they can obtain additional support.
Start Here
Citizens should always call local law enforcement. If you see something suspicious, please call local law enforcement.
I leaned back in the chair, head shaking. Three times they said call local police? I couldn’t call local police.
Back to the site’s home page. Under the How Do I? box near the bottom was a link to Report Cyber Incidents. That had to be it. I followed the link. The next page was full of information about cyber incidents but had no phone number. Near the end was another Report Cyber Incident link. I clicked it—and ended up on a form.
They wanted me to fill in a form and submit it? There was no time!
I searched the links at the top of the page. Clicked About Us. At the bottom of that page I found a phone number.
With a quick prayer, I picked up the phone and dialed.
“Computer Emergency Readiness Team, Agent Johnson.”
My heart picked up speed. “Hi. I’m . . . I need to report an incident.”
“Did you fill out the form on our website?”
“No time for that. You have to do something now. In the next eight hours. At 7:00 tonight Pacific Time the western electrical grid plus the area that includes Washington, D.C. will be hit.”
A long pause. “Would you give me your name, please?”
I cringed. “I don’t want to give it.”
“Okay. Tell me more about what you know.”
I told him, my words tripping over each other. How I’d met Morton Leringer. The flash drive. The men chasing me.
“And this is supposed to happen tonight?”
“Yes. And tomorrow it happens to the rest of the eastern grid. And the next day, Texas. The video says so.”
“You gave this video to your local sheriff’s department?”
“Yes, but—”
“Your department will be in contact with Homeland Security.”
“I thought you were Homeland Security.”
“We’re a team within the department.”
“Then give me the main number.”
“If you have seen suspicious activity, you need to report it to your local law enforcement. You’ve done that. Rest assured that law enforcement will be in contact with DHS.”
“But they won’t because the sergeant there is one of the terrorists!” My hands were shaking. Why wouldn’t he listen to me?
“Ma’am, that is a very serious charge you’re making.”
Oh, tell me it’s serious. “Look, I think I know where the key to the encrypted message is. If you’d just listen to me and get to it—”
“What sergeant in which sheriff’s department?”
“Sergeant Wade. Moss Beach substation, part of San Mateo County, California. And he’s got a deputy working with him. Harcroft.”
“All right. I’ll contact the substation. If you’ll give me your phone number I’ll get back to you.”
With a phone number they could find me here.
What if they’d traced the number already? Or captured it through ID?
I smacked the Off button. Then put down the phone. I stared at it, at the computer. What had I done?
Mom and I couldn’t stay here any longer. They could come for me anytime. But if I woke her up now, she’d be too tired. She’d fight me hard. Likely go into one of her meltdowns.
I pushed to my feet. If I could sneak out now, maybe Aunt Margie would let me leave Mom here. She wasn’t the one the police were looking for anyway.
My gaze swung back to the computer. What if I could find a main number for Homeland Security? Not their cyber branch.
I sat down again and searched the DHS home page. At the top was a “Contact Us” link. Should have gone there the first time. I followed the link, and after a couple clicks, found the number for the Operator.
Here we go again. I dialed the number.
“Department of Homeland Security.”
“I need to talk to someone about a terrorist attack that’s going to happen tonight.”
“Just a moment, please.” The operator sounded so calm, as if she heard such words every day. My heart was already beating double time. This was my last chance for help.
“Hello, I’m Greg Branson. You say you have news of a terrorist threat?”
Relief trickled through me. “Yes.” I launched once again into my story. “The video says 7:00 p.m. tonight for the western electrical grid, and 10:00 for the area that includes Washington, D.C. Tomorrow and the next night, it’s the rest of the country.”
“And you say this video has been given to the sheriff’s department in Moss Beach.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter. Sergeant Wade is part of the terrorist group. And I think Deputy Harcroft is too. I don’t think they’re doing anything with the video.”
“Why do you think this sergeant is part of the group?”
“He sent two men to kill me. At my house. Now he’s hunting me down on TV, telling everyone I’m a suspect in the death of Morton Leringer and two other men. I didn’t kill them! I just stopped to help at an accident.”
“If your local law enforcement are asking you to come in and talk to them about some homicides, it’s important that you do that.”
“But who knows what will happen to me if I’m put in Wade’s custody? And meanwhile, no one’s doing anything about this video!”
“You don’t know that. They may well be working on it.”
“Really? Have they contacted you about it?”
Silence.
“Don’t you think this is something Homeland Security should know?”
“Certainly. Here’s what we need to do. You should go to the nearest police station so you can talk to the sheriff’s department about the homicides. They’ll want to question you. I will contact the Moss Beach substation to see what they know about the video. We’ll take it from there.”
If he called the substation, they’d just put him in touch with Wade. Or Harcroft.
“There’s not much time for talk. You need to get the key to the encrypted message, which tells how to stop the attack.”
“I will speak to the sergeant about that.”
“He won’t tell you the truth! Look, I think the key may be sewn into—”
Aunt Margie’s doorbell rang. I froze.
“Hello?” Branson’s voice filtered through the phone. “You there?”
Had that cyber team already discovered where I was?
I crept over to the window and eased back the curtain.
A police car sat at the curb.
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Chapter 36
SPECIAL HOUSE SELECT COMMITTEE INVESTIGATION INTO FREENOW TERRORIST ACTIVITY OF FEBRUARY 25, 2013
SEPTEMBER 16, 2013
TRANSCRIPT
Representative ELKIN MORSE (Chairman, Homeland Security Committee): So we are now up to around 11:15 a.m. on February 25, 2012. What were you doing at this time?
Sergeant CHARLES WADE (Sheriff’s Department Coastside): I was going door-to-door in the area where Morton Leringer lived, asking if anyone had seen anything that might have been related to the homicides. This procedure took time. I was also in regular contact with the San Carlos police regarding the homicide of Arthur Rozland. And, of course, I was in contact with many people in the field who were trying to locate Hannah Shire. We had deputies and police officers talking to her neighbors, her friends at work, friends at the church she attended.
MORSE: And you learned some information about Hannah Shire, correct?
WADE: By that time we’d heard from Tina Crylon, the employee at the motel at which Mrs. Shire and her mother stayed briefly. Miss Crylon had seen Mrs. Shire on the news and called our department, but that was a couple hours after the two women had checked out. We then discovered that Hannah Shire had an aunt about an hour away in Fresno—Margaret Dexter. And a policeman in the area thought he may have spotted Mrs. Shire’s car headed in that direction. I called Fresno police and asked them to send someone to Mrs. Dexter’s house.
MORSE: Okay we will come back to that. So what time did you return to the Moss Beach substation?
WADE: About 11:50 a.m.
MORSE: This was after you received the calls from Homeland Security?
WADE: Yes. The first call came into my office line around 11:20. The second came in right after. The substation alerted me on my cell phone. I immediately called the first number—the Computer Emergency Readiness Team of DHS—and spoke with Agent Johnson. He told me about a call from a woman who must be Hannah Shire. In the second call I spoke with Greg Branson of DHS, who told me a similar story.
According to them, Hannah Shire claimed the video she’d given me contained information on a “Phase 1” terrorist attack. I had no knowledge of such information being on that video—and I’d watched it numerous times. Neither had I received any such information from the technician I’d given it to. So it was imperative that I report to the substation right away and look again at that video.
MORSE: But you were not able to look at it. Were you?
WADE: Not immediately, no.
MORSE: Please tell this committee why.
We’re waiting, Sergeant Wade.
WADE: When I returned to the substation and spoke to our tech, Deputy Morris Landow . . . he couldn’t find the video.
MORSE: Couldn’t “find” it.
WADE: That’s correct. He agreed I’d given it to him that morning. He knew where he’d placed it in his office. But it was no longer there. We conducted a thorough search throughout the substation, but it could not be found.
MORSE: So you lost this crucial video. And, as I understand it, there was no backup. Correct?
WADE: There was no backup done by our department. Deputy Landow had not done that yet. He should have, but he didn’t. Needless to say, I was not happy about that.
MORSE: Had he even looked at the video?
WADE: He had looked at it numerous times, but had not had time to do an in-depth analysis on it. As it turned out, we didn’t have that capacity at our substation and would have needed to turn it over to the San Mateo County Sheriff’s Department.
MORSE: Why didn’t you do that right away?
WADE: As I’ve told this committee over and over, I could not have known at the time how critical the flash drive was, nor that it contained an encrypted message. And I was working on multiple homicides.
MORSE: But this is the crux of the matter. Because you’ve also told us when you first viewed the video along with Deputy Harcroft, you both knew the equipment in the scene was a power generator.
WADE: Yes. But a short clip of a generator falling apart in and of itself did not signal a planned terrorist attack. That would have been a big jump in logic at the time.
MORSE: It would have been the right jump, wouldn’t it, Sergeant Wade?
Chapter 37
Monday, February 25, 2013
I jerked back from the window, nerves searing.
“Hello?” A distant voice from the telephone reached my ear.
I punched off the line and threw the receiver on Aunt Margie’s bed.
The doorbell rang again. Followed by hard knocks.
I ran to the doorway of the bedroom and listened. My aunt’s footsteps sounded in the front hallway. The door opened.
“Margaret Dexter?” A man’s voice.
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Turney. I’d like to talk to you about your niece, Hannah Shire.”
“Hannah? Is she all right?”
I could picture my aunt’s raised, innocent eyebrows.
“I don’t know. She’s missing.”
“Missing!”
“She left her house last night along with her mother. No one has seen her since.”
“They must be on a trip. It’s not like Hannah to just disappear. She’s far too reliable for that.”
“I’m sure. But the sheriff’s department in her area would like her to come in and talk to them about a couple of homicides. It’s been all over the news.”
My aunt hmphed. “I don’t watch much TV. And what in the world would Hannah have to do with a homicide?”
“That’s what the sheriff’s department needs to find out.”
“She certainly wouldn’t be responsible, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“If she talks to the sheriff’s department she can tell them that.”
“Of course.” My aunt paused. “Who’s dead? Someone she knows?”
Vaguely, I heard the policeman’s answer. My eyes had strayed to the closed bedroom door where Mom slept. If she happened to walk through it right now, it was over.
“Tell you the truth,” my aunt said, “I don’t see Hannah very often. We call once in awhile. And send letters at Christmas. But she doesn’t get down here much. Today’s a work day for her. Have you checked there?”
“Yes, I’m sure they have. Let me give you my card. Please call if you hear anything.”
“All right.”
“Before I leave, mind if I check around?”
I grabbed the doorway.
“In my house?”
“Yes.”
“Whatever for?”
“I’d just like to look around, if I may.”
My knuckles went white.
“You seem like a nice young man, but really, I see no need to let you snoop around my house. I’m just a widow, living here by myself.”
“I see.” The policeman’s voice edged. “We can come back with a warrant, you understand. Then you’ll have no choice but to let us in.”
“Is that so.” My aunt put on her most imperious tone. “And on what grounds would you convince a judge to give you a warrant?”
“This is a serious situation, ma’am.”
“Serious or not, I thought the Fresno Police Department had better things to do than threaten old ladies.”
“No threats here. I’m just telling you—”
“Fine then. You just go get a warrant. And when you come back and poke in my closets, I’ll hand you a dust rag so you can clean the shelves!”
The door slammed shut.
I couldn’t move. Trembling, I cocked an ear toward the window. Was the cop leaving?
Seconds ticked by. A car door shut. An engine started.
Aunt Margie’s footsteps approached from the entryway.
She rounded the corner, steps firm and ch
eeks red. But anxiety shone in her eyes. “You heard?”
I nodded.
“They’ll be back if they can finagle that warrant. On what grounds, I can’t imagine.”
She was right. They probably had no grounds. But what law enforcement had proven trustworthy to this point? “We can’t stay here. We can’t chance it.”
My aunt sighed.
“I’ll have to get Mom up. That won’t be easy.”
“You should leave her here. It’s safer.”
“No, it’s not, if they’re likely to find her. They’ll haul her to Wade. He’ll try to get out of her what she knows. He already sent a man to kill us!”
My aunt gazed at the floor. “You can at least take my car. They’ll be looking for yours. But where will you go?”
There was just one place we could go. Back to the Bay Area, to the heart of danger. Somehow, some way I had to find Ashley Eddington and convince her to listen to me. Because no one else would.
“I have a job to do. We’ve tried to go for help. The police. The FBI. Even Homeland Security. Nothing has worked. Now it’s up to me.”
Even as I spoke the words, I knew they were ridiculous. I was no savior of the world. I was just a widow trying to take care of her failing mother. Trying to protect her daughter.
My aunt raised her chin. “What do you need to do?”
I filled my lungs with air. Someday I would sleep again. “Aunt Margie, if I fail, the electricity will go off at seven o’clock tonight. And will stay off for who knows how long. The terrorists have to be doing it to cause chaos. Violence will follow. Looting, murder. Stay in the house. Keep the doors locked.”
Aunt Margie’s eyes had gone wide. “I thought this was about some homicides.”
I managed a grim smile. “That’s what they want you to think.”
Chapter 38
Get back here.” Stone’s terse command echoed in Tex’s head as the plane’s wheels left the runway.
He was returning to the Bay Area, all right. Furious and frustrated, and more determined than ever. How could he have failed to bring in Emily Shire? She’d make him look stupid and worthless to Stone. That was unforgivable.
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