Leopold unstrapped himself and followed her to the front of the cabin. Jerome followed suit, and Kane wrenched open the hatch. A blast of fresh air blew inside, and Leopold felt the cool breeze on his skin.
Kane lowered the boarding ladder and waved them forward. “If you’re waiting for the red carpet we might be here a while,” she said, before her head disappeared from view.
Leopold and Jerome clambered down after her. Outside on the blacktop, a car was parked up waiting for them. Unsurprisingly, a black Suburban, complete with tinted windows.
Kane knelt down by the front wheel and found a set of keys. She opened up the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. Leopold climbed in next to her, while Jerome settled into the back.
“The government really needs to think about leasing some more efficient transport,” said Leopold, buckling up. “What does this thing get? Twelve miles to the gallon?”
“More like ten,” said Kane, firing up the engine. “This unit has a modified 6.2-liter V8. Supercharged, of course.”
“Of course.” Leopold heard the engine let out a deep roar as Kane shifted into gear and set off.
“Nearly seven hundred horses; this baby should get us there in record time.” She put her foot to the floor.
Leopold felt himself forced back into his seat as the souped-up Suburban surged forward.
He said, “Where is ‘there,’ exactly?”
“Here, take this.” Kane fished a slim cell phone out of her pocket and tossed it onto Leopold’s lap. “Standard-issue encrypted handset. Open up the GeoFix app and punch in Sergeant Jordan’s mobile phone number.” She turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “I assume you know it by heart.”
Leopold opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He swiped the smart phone’s screen and found the app, and then entered Mary’s cell number.
“Give it a minute,” said Kane. “It should be able to find us a trace. You think she’ll be helping with the search?”
“If I know Mary, she’ll probably be leading it,” said Leopold. “But I don’t know what help we’ll be if we don’t know where the bombs are.”
Kane reached the end of the airstrip and hung a right, heading for the main gates. “Well, you’ve got less than an hour to figure it out,” she said. “You’d better make the most of it.”
Chapter 61
MARY HELD BACK a yawn and stretched her arms over her head. She could feel a burning pain in her lower back and her legs felt like she’d just finished running a half marathon. Based on the amount of ground she and Marshall had covered overnight, that likely wasn’t an exaggeration.
She noticed three of the eight officers they’d requisitioned up ahead, moving slowly through the morning crowd and checking recessed porches, trashcans, and other potential hiding places. They looked about ready to collapse.
“No word from the other teams,” said Marshall, sidling up next to her. She glanced at him, wondering how the hell he still looked as though he’d woken up from ten hours’ sleep.
“Nothing from RTCC either,” she said, absent-mindedly running her fingers through her hair. “We’ve scoured the whole damn neighborhood and nothing. Maybe we need to expand, check some of the less obvious areas.”
Marshall yawned loudly, the first time he’d shown any signs of being even slightly worn out. “The morning rush hour’s come and gone,” he said. “But maximum exposure would be around lunch time. More people on the streets at that time of day.”
Mary glanced at her watch. “That gives us less than three hours. I’m not even sure I can stay awake that long.”
“We’ve made it this far, another few hours –”
“Is probably going to kill me,” said Mary, cutting him off. “Maybe we should take a minute, catch our breath.” She stopped, perching on an empty bus stop bench.
“Couldn’t hurt,” said Marshall, sitting down next to her. Mary caught a hint of his cologne as he shuffled up next to her.
“So, any bright ideas?” she asked.
Marshall hesitated. “Well, maybe one thing.”
“Shoot.”
“We’ve tried thinking like cops,” he said. “Followed the protocols. But maybe we should start thinking more like them. More like criminals.”
“These guys are obviously smart.”
“So are we.”
Mary considered his point for a moment. “You’re saying we’re underestimating them?”
“Kinda goes without saying. Otherwise we’d have found something.”
“When you put it like that...” Mary sighed and glanced up and down the street. They were sitting in a quiet area just off Hell’s kitchen – a mostly residential neighborhood, but with direct lines of traffic out of Manhattan. The Lincoln Tunnel, the main funnel to New Jersey from this part of town, was only a few blocks further south. In other words, the perfect place to lay a trap.
The street was busy with pedestrians but very little road traffic – mostly empty cars parked up on the side of the road. The resulting lack of space meant most vehicular traffic avoided this part of the city whenever possible. The cars were mostly old models, not very expensive. A few of them were a little beat up, but nothing major. Mostly scratched paintwork, a handful of crumpled fenders.
Marshall yawned again. “There’s something we’re missing here.”
Mary nodded silently. She focused on one of the cars parked up opposite them – a brown Corolla with faded paint.
“Something on your mind?” Marshall asked.
“You guys check the cars like I told you?”
“Yeah. Undercarriage and wheel arches.”
Mary turned to look at him. “What about inside the cars?”
“How would that work, exactly?”
“Think about it – a street full of cars, nothing about them stands out. They’re right in front of our eyes all the time, so we don’t notice. The perfect place to hide something, especially if you need it to be near populated areas.”
Marshall smiled. “That makes sense. Target the cars parked here overnight, maybe cut the fuel lines so they won’t start. But how can we search that many vehicles? It’s not like we can start smashing in all the windows and hope people won’t notice.”
“You ever had your car broken into?”
“I live in D.C. Of course I have.” Another grin.
Mary stood up. “Follow me. I think I know how we can make this work.” She pulled out her cell phone and headed for the brown Corolla across the street and Marshall followed.
Mary dialed the RTCC command center. Walters picked up, her voice a little strained after more than fifteen hours of working the phones.
Mary cleared her throat. “This is Sergeant Jordan. I’m on west forty-second and eleventh. I need you to pull some surveillance footage.”
A pause. “Okay, I’ve got three cameras near you. Angles aren’t too hot, though.”
“Go back forty-eight hours,” said Mary, reaching the other side of the road. She looked up and down the street at the rows of parked cars. “I need license plate numbers of any vehicle that hasn’t been moved since that time.”
“Give me a minute,” said Walters.
Marshall caught up. “What’s the plan?”
“We can’t search all the cars,” said Mary, one hand over her phone’s mouthpiece. “But we can narrow the search down by figuring out which cars haven’t been moved in a couple of days. If Blake’s men are as smart as we think they are, they’ll have targeted vehicles that don’t get used much.”
She heard a rustling noise and Walters came back on the line. Mary pressed the phone to her ear. “You got something for me?”
“Based on the angles we’ve got, I can see three vehicles that haven’t been moved in forty-eight hours.”
“Great. Text me the license plate numbers.”
“On it.”
Mary hung up. Her phone vibrated with an incoming text message. “Okay, let’s get started,” she said, holding the s
creen up so Marshall could see.
“We’re looking for a white Hyundai, license plate ADL-4682,” he said, reading aloud.
Mary looked down the street. “Over there.” She pointed at a white sedan about thirty feet away. Marshall broke into a jog and Mary followed, weaving in and out of the pedestrians as she kept pace. Most people kept their heads down, ignored her and Marshall completely.
Typical New York mentality, thought Mary. Everyone minds his own business.
They reached the car, checked the plate. Mary glanced down at the driver’s side window.
“See there,” she said, pointing at the rubber strip between the door and the glass, where she noticed a slight indentation in the seal. “Looks like someone’s forced something through there.”
“A door jimmy?”
Mary nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
“I’m not seeing the appeal,” said Marshall, peering through the window. “If these guys are using gas, wouldn’t the car keep everything from getting out?”
“Not everywhere inside the car is airtight,” said Mary. She walked round to the front of the vehicle. “The radiator needs moving air to work properly. The intake grille is completely open. Look.”
Marshall squatted and peered into the engine bay. “I don’t see anything out of place.”
“We need to get the hood open.”
“That’s not going to work without a warrant.”
“You said we need to start thinking like criminals,” said Mary. “These guys don’t need warrants. And we don’t have the time. Look, if I’m wrong, I’ll take the heat. But if I’m right, this could make all the difference.”
Marshall stood up again. “So, you’re thinking these guys break into the cars, pop open the hood, then hide the devices inside the engine bay?”
Mary nodded. “You’ve got to admit, it’s pretty smart.”
“Only if you’re right. And only if they don’t get caught doing it.”
“This is New York. There are a dozen carjackings a day. That we know about.” She smiled. “It’s practically expected, especially in this neighborhood.”
“Okay, fine. But how are we going to get in there without people noticing?” He glanced up the street. “Someone might make a scene.”
“We can get the equipment we need out here fast enough,” said Mary. “That should make it easy to get the doors open without anyone noticing. Until then...” She unholstered her gun.
Marshall took a step back. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not going to fire it,” Mary said, rolling her eyes. She pulled out her I.D. badge. “If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them it’s police business.”
Before Marshall could say anything else, Mary checked her safety was on, and then slammed the butt of the gun against the driver’s side glass. The window shattered but stayed in one piece thanks to the protective coating. The noise made a couple of nearby passers-by look up, but they all kept on walking.
“See? I told you nobody would care,” Mary said, pushing the ruined window through. It fell onto the driver’s seat, spilling tiny crystals of broken glass onto the fabric.
She reached through and unlocked the door, then leaned into the car and located the hood release switch. She found it nestled underneath the steering wheel and pulled on it. There was a muffled thunk and Mary saw the hood pop up.
“Nice job,” said Marshall. “Could have used a little more finesse, but effective. I’ll give you that.”
“It’s not my first time,” said Mary, winking.
They headed round to the front of the car and Marshall lifted the hood, fixing it in place with the prop rod. Mary glanced into the engine bay.
“I don’t see anything,” Marshall said.
“You give up too easily.” Mary leaned in close, peering into the dark recess. She caught a whiff of old engine oil and gasoline.
“See anything?”
“Hang on.” Mary looked underneath the engine block, focused on the sump. There wasn’t much light. “There’s definitely something here,” she said. “Hand me your cell phone.”
Marshall obliged. Mary swiped the screen and activated the flashlight, aiming it at the dark space in front of her.
Then she saw it.
A small, dark package, roughly the size of a laptop, nestled underneath the sump. She could make out a tangle of wires, and two transparent cylinders filled with colored liquid. One red, one green.
“Holy shit.” Marshall peered in over her shoulder.
“Those would be my feelings exactly.”
“We’d better call this in,” said Marshall. “Let the others know what to look for. Maybe we can find them all in time.”
Mary stood up straight and turned to face him. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we can disarm them. They’ve no doubt got some kind of failsafe.”
“At least we’re one step closer. And it’s all thanks to you.” He looked at her. “I knew you’d pull this off.”
Mary felt her cheeks get hot. She looked into Marshall’s eyes and, just for a moment, forgot about where she was. Forgot about the danger. Somehow, it felt like everything was going to be okay.
And then reality set back in.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
Seriously? Butterflies? She forced herself to keep her mind on topic. If Leopold were here, he’d... her train of thought went down another path. And suddenly, all she felt was a clawing sense of guilt.
Maybe he’d still be here if I hadn’t been such an asshole to him. Or maybe I’d be over there with him. Wherever the hell ‘there’ is...
“Mary?”
Marshall’s voice snapped her back into the moment. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking what our next move is. Maybe there’s some way to self-destruct these things, like we saw in New Jersey.”
“It might do a little damage to the car,” said Marshall, “but better than the alternative.” He took back his cell phone and punched in a number. “I’ll call this in to the RTCC. You get the bomb squad out here, and have Briggs and his men start checking out the other cars. You still got the license numbers?”
“Yeah.” Mary consulted her own mobile, texted the plates to Briggs and the others. “When you’ve talked to Walters, get Director Ward on the phone. I think he needs to know what we’re dealing with here. Maybe he found something in those old files of his that can help.”
“Let’s hope so,” Marshall said. “If we knew what the end game was, maybe we could figure out Blake’s next move. Assuming total annihilation isn’t the objective here.”
“That would make a nice change,” said Mary.
Chapter 62
THE SUPERCHARGED SUBURBAN barreled down the I-495 toward the Lincoln Tunnel. Leopold glanced at the speedometer. It was nudging ninety-five.
“Relax,” said Kane. “The license plate is tied to the police database. We won’t have any trouble. How far out are we?”
“At this speed? Less than ten minutes to Mary’s location. Assuming we don’t hit traffic.”
“Any bright ideas on what we tell them when we get there?”
Leopold nodded. “If I were planning a large scale attack, I’d make sure the whole world was watching when it happened. The city is at its busiest around lunch time, which gives us...” he checked the time on the cell phone Kane had given him. “Maybe two hours.”
“Until what?”
“The first wave will be focused on making a scene. A shock and awe campaign to get the media’s attention. After that, I’d issue my demands. It doesn’t really matter what I ask for. Whatever keeps attention away from my real goal. Then, I’d watch the NYPD and the FBI chase their asses for a while. Once the news of the first attack hits, we’re going to see some major movement in the stock market as investors get panicky and unload their higher-risk assets. That will have a domino effect, and it’ll only get worse once they find out about all the other bombs. Once the market drop reaches critic
al mass, there’ll be nothing we can do to stop it.”
Kane smirked. “So what? A bunch of rich assholes get a little less rich. I’m more concerned about the threat to ordinary people’s lives.”
“It’s not just the rich that suffer in a market crash,” said Leopold. “And, being a rich asshole myself, I know what I’d do if I was in my father’s place.” He paused. “I’d want to be as close as possible to the action. I’d want to make damn sure everything went down perfectly.”
“You think your father’s somewhere in the city?”
“I’d bet my life on it.”
Kane gripped the wheel a little tighter. “It might just come to that.”
“How do you plan on tracking him?” Jerome asked from the back seat.
Leopold turned his head. “That’s where Director Ward comes in. With the right equipment and the right pressure from the right people, we stand a chance of narrowing down the search. There’s only so many places a person can use to run operations like this. If we act fast, we stand a chance of stopping him before it’s too late.”
“You’d better be right,” said Kane, slowing down a little as the tunnel entrance loomed ahead. “Otherwise we’re driving straight into a death trap.”
Chapter 63
HAWKES TOOK ANOTHER gulp of coffee and rubbed his eyes with his good hand, trying to stay focused. The operations hub onboard Thanatos was empty – more than a dozen workstations abandoned. The only other soul working in the belly of the ship had finished his shift two hours earlier, and had retired to his quarters. He wasn’t due back for another hour.
The colonel had picked out the only office – an eight-by-eight room surrounded on all sides by Smart Glass, positioned in the center of the room, about thirty feet from each wall. The delicate glass remained transparent most of the time, until an electric current was passed through, turning it opaque. Hawkes had turned it up to its highest setting, and he now sat alone in the dimly lit room with only his computer for company.
Fallen: A Leopold Blake Thriller (A Private Investigator Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers Book 5) Page 23