Delaney’s heart hurt for him. It was hard to find people to trust. “I’m sure when the trial is over, she would be happy for you to contact her.” That is, if he didn’t end up in WITSEC.
Bruce turned to Marshal Bradford. “What if I videotape my testimony? What if Nancy did? She might consider that, if you asked. Could we skip trying to get me to the courthouse? And—” he glanced at Delaney “—if things don’t get better, when do we start talking about WITSEC?”
“When we think the danger won’t end at trial, we’ll discuss your enrollment in the program. Right now, the assistant attorney still believes your testimony has the power to turn Mr. Andy Bowers into the informant we need to bring down the organization. If that happens, we will no longer need your testimony. But I can’t make guarantees. We take your safety seriously, Mr. Walker, and I will be the first to recommend witness protection if it becomes necessary.”
Bradford checked his watch. “As far as video testimony goes, that option has already been turned down. We always suggest that alternative before the Marshals get involved. Unfortunately, the US Attorney’s Office is determined to ensure the witnesses have face-to-face time with the jury. It’s much easier for a jury to trust a witness if they can see your expressions and tone of voice without a recording desensitizing the experience. Not to sound flippant, but in their trial experience, the witness with the best story wins the jury over.”
He turned to Delaney. “Which is part of the reason I’m here. After the incident this morning, the judge has expedited the trial. We have two weeks to get the witness safely to the courthouse or he’s releasing Mr. Bowers from prison.”
“Still no murder weapon?”
“No. It would make our lives abundantly easier if we could find it. So, for now, I want to encourage you that we’re doing all we can on our end. Keep your chin up, and this will all be over soon.” Marshal Bradford stood. “Deputy Marshal Patton, may I have a word?”
They stepped to the side of the path, just out of earshot of Bruce. “Are we worried about a mole in the Marshals?” Delaney asked before Bradford had a chance to speak.
Bradford’s eyes widened for a split second before he put his hands on his waist. “I would be foolish if I said it was impossible, but I can’t imagine that’s the case. The more likely scenario is we have a weak security link in our communication. So I want you to go silent.” He handed her a pager. “If it’s necessary to reach you, I’ll page you with a number to call me. It’s my understanding there are still a few Casey’s General Stores that have pay phones.”
“Sir, I don’t think it’s wise to return to the same—”
“No, of course not.” He handed her a slip of paper with a handwritten address. “Do you know where this is?”
The address was on one of the county gravel roads most people never traversed, but the name caught her off guard. “You’re sending us to a prairie?”
“Funded by a government grant. It’s not an official safe house yet, but some law enforcement officials live on the land. They’ll be expecting you.”
“Who else knows about this place and has this address?”
“You and me. That’s it.”
“Sir.” Delaney glanced over her shoulder. “Given all that’s gone wrong, I wonder if another deputy would be more quali—”
Bradford grinned as if he’d known all along she would try to bow out. “You’re the perfect deputy for this assignment. I insist you remain the lead on this. Trust me.”
If any other man in the world had said those last two words to her, Delaney would’ve instantly done the opposite. No one could be ordered to trust. Trust had to be earned. But in Bradford’s case, he’d already earned hers. His confidence in her boosted her morale. She memorized the address and handed it back to him to destroy. “We better get moving, then. You have a vehicle for me?”
“Yes.” He handed her a set of Chevy keys. “Brown rusted thing. Third row, closest to the building. Car seat already installed. Two other marshals are waiting at opposite ends of the parking lot. They’ll escort you to the county line, but then they have orders to turn around. You’ll only be a mile or so away by then anyway.”
The fact they still didn’t know how the CryptTakers kept finding them nagged at her. “Fine. I welcome a caravan. I’d like to ask for a couple of days at this safe house before there’s any further attempt at communication from the US Attorney’s Office. If we can be at the safe house for two days without an attack, then I’ll be more apt to believe we don’t have a mole within our ranks.”
He glanced at his watch. “Fair enough. The decision isn’t up to me, but I’ll make the suggestion. I’ve got to go.” In a much softer voice, he added, “Stay safe.”
* * *
The flowers and trees had produced a calming effect on Bruce, even though he wouldn’t fully unclench his stomach. Winnie knew the gardens well enough that she grew restless with wandering around just one secluded area. She wanted to wave at Gnomie again, make music with the dancing wind chimes and run through the maze. But the way Delaney tilted her head toward the parking lot after she came back from her talk with the marshal made it clear that it was time for them to leave.
“She seems comfortable here. You said you’ve been here a lot?” Delaney asked as she made her own path through the grass.
“Yes.” Winnie was happy to match his stride and keep up with Delaney without a word. “Being out in nature always reminds me that despite my good intentions, when I don’t have control, God does. So this was good timing.”
She smiled in response but the smile faded when they stopped in front of a brown car covered with rust spots. Two minutes later, they were on the road. The Chevy had no bells or whistles, but at least it had air-conditioning, though the smell coming out of the vents rivaled some of his dirty socks after a long run.
A walkie-talkie sat in the middle of the front seat, and a bag of water bottles sat on the floorboards, but otherwise there was no sign that the car had been left by the Marshals. Delaney glanced in the mirrors. “I’m not going to use any communications unless absolutely necessary.”
“Can I ask where we’re going?”
“Basically the middle of nowhere. Except it should be a wonderful place for Winnie. If it’s in the location that I’m picturing, you both will have the space to stretch your legs and run.”
“For how long?”
“A few days at the most. The next time we leave, we’ll visit the courthouse. It will be a one-day affair where the attorneys will do the pretrial interviews early in the morning, followed by your testimony later that day.”
Delaney drove through Ames with their escorts a couple cars behind until she came to a two-lane highway and turned north. The stretch of highway had no other cars and, given the flat stretch of land, it seemed to never end. The radio crackled. “Mix it up.”
One of the deputies passed them to take the lead.
“Do they know where we’re going?”
“No. When they see the county line, they have orders to turn around, which will happen in just a few minutes.”
The cornfields on either side of the highway waved their husks at them. In the distance, wind turbines turned. The slow revolution of the blades somehow calmed him, slowing down the pace of his own breathing. Just past the fields and wind farm, a thick layer of forest completed the view.
“Moo cow,” Winnie shouted.
To the right a wooden-fenced area held cows grazing in front of a red ranch house. It passed in a blur as Delaney sped up.
Bruce glanced at the speedometer. They’d left the fifty-five-mile-an-hour speed limit in the dust. “Is something wrong?”
“Probably not. I imagine the other deputies are in as big a hurry as I am to get to the safe house. The deputy in the Jeep behind me keeps speeding up.”
Bruce stretched his arm backward and gave Winnie’s knee
a small squeeze as he looked over his shoulder, out the back window. A small object appeared on the horizon, following the Jeep. Bruce flinched, hoping he was seeing things.
He leaned forward and studied the side mirror. A black object in the air darted from the highway to pass over the cornfields, sailing over the crops at the same speed as their vehicle. “I think I know why the Jeep is speeding up.”
The radio crackled again. “Are you guys seeing what I’m seeing?”
“It’s a drone,” Bruce told Delaney. The thing looked like a miniature helicopter, though he couldn’t get a very good look at it, given the flying object was roughly a hundred feet away.
Delaney turned to face him. “A drone?” She took a look for herself, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel. She grabbed the radio. “Affirmative. Drone. Over.” She let the static fill the air. “There’s no procedure for how to handle this. I’d really like one hour where I didn’t have to get creative.”
“It’s not necessarily something to be afraid of. It could be an agricultural drone. They’re really taking up a huge part of the commercial drone market right now.”
“What are farms doing with drones?”
“Fertilizing, spraying insecticide, examining the crops.”
The object zoomed to the left, hovering over the cornfields as if demonstrating that Bruce could be right.
“Yeah, well, until we have some kind of confirmation that we’re dealing with a tech-savvy farmer we need to assume the worst.”
Bruce kept an eye on the drone’s path and his neck tingled with discomfort. “I don’t think agricultural drones usually keep up with cars going sixty miles an hour.”
Delaney pursed her lips. “Do you know if drones that size can be weaponized?”
“Maybe. I’m not really close enough to see the size of the thing.” Bruce unbuckled his seat belt.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Bruce dived through the small space between the two front seats.
“If you kick me, we’re going to have more problems than that drone,” Delaney snapped.
Winnie laughed at her dad’s awkward positions as he tried to scoot next to her in the back seat. “There’s no way I’m letting Winnie be exposed to the windows.” He would throw his body over her car seat, if need be, before he’d let the drone target her.
On the floor, a long US Marshals bag peeked out from underneath the driver’s seat. Bruce leaned over and tugged on it. “I didn’t notice this before. It looks like they equipped the car with a gear bag for you.”
“Yes, I know. It should all be standard-issue. See what’s inside, please.”
The radio buzzed. “Possible unfriendlies approaching from the gravel road to the west. Over.”
Bruce squinted and leaned forward. About a mile north, a black truck with men in the back sped toward the highway, dust clouds billowing behind it. He spun around to look out the back window. Behind the Jeep another black truck was approaching quickly. “It’s an ambush.” The words fell from his mouth as his heart pounded fast against his ribs.
Delaney’s gun appeared in her right hand while her left hand stayed on the wheel.
Bruce unzipped the gear bag and felt momentarily paralyzed by the amount of firepower in front of him. He’d never used a gun before, other than to shoot at cans at a homemade firing range as teenager, but he would do anything to keep Winnie safe.
“I need you to buckle up,” Delaney said before he could pull a weapon out of the bag. “We’re about to go off-roading.”
She didn’t give him a chance to even consider following the suggestion. The car spun in a sharp right and lurched as it crashed through rows of corn, filling his ears with the sound of leaves slapping against the car. Delaney swerved and they bounced over a ridge of dirt before the wheels found the path that a tractor most likely used between the sections of farmland.
“Sorry. Didn’t go as smoothly as I wanted.”
Probably because she didn’t brake at all before taking the turn at full speed. The other deputies couldn’t be seen anymore. Corn taller than the car was on either side. “You didn’t radio them.”
“No. My responsibility is getting you to safety.”
The car’s engine grew louder in volume. She had to be pushing the pedal to the floorboard. Every couple of seconds, Bruce’s torso lurched forward and almost hit the seat in front of him. Neither the dirt road nor their vehicle was made for high speeds.
Rapid cracks sounded in the distance. Bruce held his breath and prayed silently that the deputy marshals on the highway stayed safe.
“I’m sure they’re better shots than the guys in the trucks,” Delaney said. Bruce wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “Let’s hope they got the drone,” she continued. “I’m pretty confident that thing wasn’t in the air to check on the corn.”
He’d already arrived at the same conclusion. Roughly a quarter mile ahead, the wind turbines they’d seen from the road spun at the same lazy pace. Where the sight had calmed him before, somehow it irritated him now that they weren’t spinning faster, as if they were supposed to match his mood.
They closed the distance and Bruce marveled at the enormity of the machines. He hadn’t realized just how big they were before. At almost three hundred feet in height, each blade looked to be the same size as a wing from a 747.
Delaney groaned.
Bruce looked through each of the windows but didn’t see what had caused that reaction. “What? What is it?”
“The good news is I don’t see any manned vehicles following us. The bad news is I see two unmanned.” Delaney veered a sharp right to avoid a particularly deep rut. “Do you know how to load a shotgun?”
TEN
Delaney wondered what Marshal Bradford would say about a potential mole now. Except Bradford said no one else knew the address. She wouldn’t have even seen the drones if she hadn’t hit a particularly large bump while looking in the side mirror. The smallest glimpse of something in the air led her to sink down in her seat and peek in the other mirror.
“I’ve almost got the gun loaded, but I don’t think you’re going to want to shoot so close to the wind turbines. Wha—Did you see that?”
She stiffened. “See what?”
“I thought for a second that the drone was going to run into the turbine, but instead, it expertly maneuvered around a turning blade.”
“How could it do that, unless... Do you think the operator is close enough to have a visual?”
“Doubtful. These are long-range drones. More likely, it means that the drones have proximity sensors—sonar, radio, optical. Maybe even acoustic.” He said it with a sort of reverence.
“So is that important for me to appreciate them before I shoot them down?”
Bruce was right that she couldn’t even attempt to take the drones down when they hovered by the wind farm. The legality of shooting down the drones in the first place was problematic. She could legitimize the need underneath the protection of the witness, but the FAA was going to send piles of paperwork her way if news got back to them.
“It means it’s not going to be easy,” he said. “Designers have worked to make them harder to attack. Apparently, they’d already discovered that was going to be one of the big problems in transitioning to drone delivery for retailers. If I’m right, these drones will have been programmed to use the sensors for evasive maneuvers.”
“Well, that’s just great news.” She wasn’t a sniper by any means, but she had spent an abundance of time on the firing range. She’d never had flying targets that were programmed with defensive measures, though.
“If only I had my computer. If I couldn’t bring them down, we could at least find out the origin of their commands.”
She understood the sentiment, even though it wasn’t very practical at the momen
t. Being able to use the drones to track the operators was a very interesting idea, though. Could she disable the thing without destroying it? She couldn’t imagine something built so small for speed and maneuverability having the bulk to be able to handle the discharge of a weapon, but Delaney couldn’t risk being wrong.
No more cracks of guns from the highway could be heard. They’d traveled far enough into the fields that they were completely isolated. That didn’t mean that more gunmen weren’t on the way, especially with the drones still following, tracking their speed down the dirt road. Maybe the cameras weren’t able to see inside the car yet. They’d left the wind turbines in the dust.
Up another quarter of a mile was a grove of trees. If she wanted to try to take the drones down, now was the time.
“I’m going for it.” She slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel slightly to park diagonally across the road. Bruce shoved the shotgun through the space over the console. “You’ll have a better chance with this.” In return, she handed him her handgun. “Stay down.”
She unlocked the car door, pumped the shotgun and kicked the door open in order to keep both hands on the weapon. The drone directly in front of her must have recognized the weapon because it ascended rapidly in the air, like a model rocket. So Bruce was right. The drones had been programmed with evasive maneuvers. She aimed and took a shot. The drone veered to the left but wobbled in the air. Some of the pellets had to have hit the rotors.
She lifted the gun to aim once more. The drone soared to the right this time but wobbled, as if it was laughing at her. She didn’t wait for it to regain balance and shot again. It shattered in the air, plastic pieces raining over the field.
So much for merely disabling it. She pumped the next shell and turned to aim at the other drone. Except she couldn’t find it anywhere. It had disappeared. Bruce tapped the back window. “It’s hiding in the corn.”
“You must be kidding.” Well, if it was hiding, maybe they could get out of sight before it reappeared. The car was still running when she hopped back into the driver’s seat and aimed the nose at the grove of trees.
Protected Secrets Page 10