by Tate, Harley
The guard turned, instantly on alert. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Keith nodded. “Thanks for the treats.” He eased back to the sidewalk and kept walking, holding Bear’s leash tight so the dog wouldn’t give away his connection to Lainey. They circled back to the van and waited.
Ten minutes later, Lainey appeared, rubbing a sore spot on her arm.
“No luck?”
“Guy thought I was trying to hustle him.” She almost spat on the ground. “Jerk.”
Keith bit back a smile. “Did he give you any information at all?”
“Yeah. The paparazzi have to wait on the sidewalk and reporters are required to make an appointment. How about you?”
“Not much. But he did say they don’t have as much security as they would need in a worse part of town.”
“How does that help us?”
“It means we don’t need as big of a distraction.”
Lainey leaned back against the side of the van. Stress and worry lined the skin around her eyes and mouth, aging her a decade. They couldn’t walk away from the Consul General’s place empty-handed. Not when they were so close. Keith rubbed his chin. “If the Consulate staff knows anything, they haven’t told the guards.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Were they nervous? Worried about their families or friends?”
Lainey thought it over. “No. The guy acted like it was any other Saturday and I was just another nuisance.”
“Exactly. Same with the guard out front. He cared more about feeding Bear than he did about his own safety.”
“Then this whole thing might be for nothing.” Lainey thumped a fist against the van.
“No, that’s not what I’m getting at.” The more Keith thought about it, the more he thought his idea might work. He stepped closer to Lainey and caught her eye. “If the guards outside don’t know, then it’ll be easier to distract them.”
“But they know what we look like now. We can’t just show back up and spout off theories about a nuclear apocalypse.”
“We don’t have to.” Keith spun around in the parking lot. They were in a local bank’s lot on the edge of a commercial strip cutting through smaller residential streets. Across from the bank, a gas station squeezed in between a grocery store and a restaurant. Keith pointed at it. “We need a burner phone.”
Without waiting for Lainey to respond, he handed her Bear’s leash and took off, loping across the street and dodging the lone car before ducking inside the store. He plucked the cheapest flip phone off the rack and shoved it across the counter. After paying in cash, he retraced his steps, ripping into the packaging and throwing it away in the closest trash can before stopping in front of Lainey, out of breath, but full of excitement.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing, or do I have to guess?”
He powered the phone on. “We need a distraction. I’m about to give us one.”
Keith dialed 9-1-1.
“Los Angeles emergency services. Police, fire, or rescue?”
“All three. There’s a fire in the back of a house on South June Street. I think it was set by someone trying to break in. I saw three men casing the place while I was walking my dog.”
“Slow down, sir. Where is this?”
“South June Street, south of Third. I think someone’s been shot. I heard gunfire. There are these guys with guns. They’re all dressed in black like they were trying to stay hidden or something. Big house. Brick. Gate in the front.” He rattled off the address. “Hurry!”
Keith ended the call while the operator was still talking. He powered down the phone and wiped it on his pants before tossing it into the trash. “We don’t have much time.”
Lainey stared, bug eyed. “For what?”
“To make it before the cops. Come on.” He tugged open the back door to the van and Bear hopped in while Lainey rushed to the passenger side. Keith climbed into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. “Ready to be a reporter?”
Lainey grinned. “Always.”
Chapter Sixteen
LAINEY
South June Street
Los Angeles, California
Saturday, 5:45 a.m. PST
Keith slammed on the brakes outside the brick Tudor one house away from the Consul General’s residence. He rushed to the back and grabbed a handheld video camera while Lainey redid her ponytail and stepped out of the van. She took a mic from Keith’s outstretched hand and together they pretended to set up a shot outside the house.
The whirring sound of sirens grew louder. “What if they want to talk to us?”
“They won’t.” Keith stood like he wanted to capture the entire house in the shot.
A police car flew toward them, swerving to park at an angle outside the house.
Lainey held a hand up to her ear like she was listening to the station. “Yes, I understand. We won’t enter the house until the police give us the go-ahead. No, I’m aware of the risks—”
“Excuse me!” A police officer in uniform stormed toward them. “I have to ask you to move back!” He held one hand out while he reached to unholster his gun. “We’ve got reports of shots fired and a possible robbery in progress.”
Lainey stuck her mic out with a smile. “Hi, I’m Becky Newton with KSBF and we’ve gotten word that a homicide has taken place at this residence. Are you aware of any details, Officer?”
The police officer stumbled a step, glowering at Keith’s camera. “We are just arriving on scene. I’ve told you already, you need to back off.”
She smiled. “We’ve also heard from an eyewitness who claims to have seen multiple armed men breaking and entering. Can you confirm?”
“I can’t confirm anything. Now get the—” Before the officer could finish, one of the guards from the Consul General’s residence rounded the bushes. Dressed in all black, he matched the description Keith had given. The cop pulled out his gun. “Stop! Stop right there!”
Lainey screamed like she meant it and ran to the truck, pretending the sight of the gun caused her to panic. A fire truck roared its way down the street, cutting off the police officer’s instructions and the man’s reply. Lainey yanked the door open as she shouted at Keith. “Let’s get out of here!”
Another cop car blared onto the scene, pulling up on the other side of the fire truck.
Keith ran around the front of the van and hopped into the driver’s seat.
Lainey’s heart hammered in her chest and she struggled to breathe. “We’re definitely causing a scene.”
“Let’s hope it’s enough.” He revved the engine and jerked the gearshift into reverse. As they backed down the street, another guard appeared on the lawn, followed by a third.
As soon as the police spotted the men, guns were pointed and hands flew up. The first cop on the scene shouted at the men to drop to their knees. Keith punched the gas, one hand on the wheel as he twisted around to palm the passenger seat. He backed the whole way to the end of the block. Lainey watched out the windshield. No one followed them.
Keith shifted the van into drive as he bounded into the intersection before cranking the wheel. In moments, they were turning onto the next block and stopping outside another Mediterranean villa. Directly outside the driver’s window, a long driveway led to a detached garage. Behind it sat the Consul General’s backyard and the house beyond. It was their only chance.
Lainey wiped at the corners of her mouth. “How do we play this?”
“As fast as possible.” Keith glanced down the street in both directions. “We won’t have more than a few minutes.”
“What about Bear?” Lainey turned to find the retriever standing at the console, mouth hanging open as he stared at his owner.
Keith hesitated. “I think we leave him here. No telling what kind of fence they have between the yards.”
“Will he be okay?”
“We have to hope.” Keith reached out and rubbed Bear on the head. “We’ll be back in a few minutes. You lie d
own and take a nap.” He turned to Lainey. “Let’s go.”
They exited the van as quietly as possible and ran down the driveway. Lainey crossed her fingers that the house’s security system didn’t alert the occupants to their presence. As they neared the garage, a stuccoed wall topped with terracotta tile came into view. Seven or eight feet tall, it separated the current yard from the Consul General’s residence. There was no way Bear could clear it. Leaving him behind had been the right call.
Lainey pressed her lips together. How would she even get over it in a shift dress? Keith took her by the hand. “I can help you over. Come on.” He pulled her toward the wall and knelt beside it, fingers interlocked to make a platform. “Just step into my hands and I’ll hoist you up.”
Lainey followed his instructions, placing her left foot into his waiting palms. As Keith lifted her into the air, Lainey reached for the wall, struggling to make purchase on the tile. Her head cleared the top and she hooked her arms over, fingers landing in a thick mass of ivy vines.
Ahead, a lap pool stretched the width of the backyard with a pool house on the right and a small formal garden on the left. Unlike the front of the house with its original French doors and beveled glass windows, the back of the home had been remodeled. Large metal and glass doors flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the back wall.
Lainey could see straight into the back half of the home. Kitchen, casual dining, living room with two sectional sofas. All empty. Not a guard in sight.
She stuck a thumbs up in Keith’s direction and he hoisted her up higher. She scrabbled over the wall, skinning her knee on a loose tile as she swung first one leg and then the other. Landing hard in the middle of two bushes, she cursed her lack of coordination. A red gash rose up on her leg where she’d scraped it on a recently trimmed branch.
No time to worry about that now.
As she hopped down from the planter box, Keith launched over the wall. His shoes sank into the footprints she’d already made in the dirt, sending bits of soil and leaves in all directions. For the millionth time that day, Lainey wished she’d kept a change of clothes at the office.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She brushed the dirt off her dress. “Let’s just hope the back door is open.”
They wasted no time, hurrying around the pool and across the patio to the back doors. Shouts of the police officers out front echoed down the driveway and Lainey suppressed a shudder. If they were caught, would they be arrested? Thrown in jail? What about Bear waiting patiently in the back of the van?
The distant siren of an ambulance closed in and she whispered to Keith. “How long do you think we have?”
“Can’t be more than ten minutes, I’d figure. Maybe a few more.” He reached for the door handle. “Here goes nothing.”
It turned and the door swung open. Lainey tensed, waiting for an alarm, but none came. They slipped inside and Keith shut the door behind them. The back half of the residence looked like any other nicely appointed home in the area. Comfortable, high-end furnishings, spotless kitchen, dining table for ten. No sign of an office or a conference room that would have information on a pending terror attack.
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. But we should split up. You head down that hall. I’ll look for the stairs.”
Lainey nodded. She took off, feet as quiet as possible as she sneaked across the living room and ducked around a corner. A hallway stretched out before her, doors breaking up the plastered walls. Any one of them could hold the answers or a waiting Consul General with his hands on an alarm.
She sucked in a breath and reached for the first handle. It turned and she pushed the door open. The hinges squeaked and she winced, but the room was empty. She kept walking, growing bolder with each unsuccessful encounter. Every room was a variation on a theme: guest bed, dresser, crystal chandelier. No information.
Lainey reached the end of the hall where a bathroom stretched across the side of the house, and she let out a frustrated curse. They were running out of time. She hurried back the way she’d come, down the hall, through the living room, and on into the kitchen. On either side of the massive stove, archways led to the other side of the house. Lainey ducked into the one closest to the backyard.
A narrow desk abutted a pair of French doors, agenda spread out across the top. Lainey’s heart pounded. Was this the business side of the house? She crept toward the book. It sat open to the current month, prior days on the calendar slashed into the past.
Almost every day contained an entry. Routine meetings. Trips out of town. Lunches and galas and charity events. Three days ago, everything changed. Frantic marks crossed out neat entries and hurried scribbles were crammed into the margins.
Lainey licked her lips. Could it be a coincidence? She read the entry from last night: a meeting right there in the residence.
According to the day’s listing, a flight had been arranged. Ten a.m. that morning. Nonstop from Sacramento to Heathrow. Four passengers.
She swallowed down a sudden rise of spit and bile. Curtains blocked the room beyond from view, but it had to be an office. Lainey reached for the door handle and pushed the door open.
A man hunched over a large conference room table obscured by stacks of paper. He turned at her approach. As soon as she looked Keith in the eye, she knew they’d found it.
“Is this it?”
His mouth fell open, but he couldn’t speak. Whatever covered the table had turned his brain to mush and his skin to ash.
Lainey stepped forward. A printout on the table caught her eye and as she read the words emblazoned across the top, all of her hope crumbled to dust.
Chapter Seventeen
LAINEY
Consul General’s Residence
Los Angeles, California
Saturday, 6:30 a.m. PST
Oh my… Lainey reached for the table, afraid her legs would collapse under the weight of everything she saw. “It’s…”
“True.” Keith finished her thought. “It appears so.”
Lainey couldn’t catch her breath. They had so much information. She picked up a binder-clipped report detailing death by nuclear radiation. She flipped the pages. Millions would die within the first forty-eight hours without shelter. Millions more over the course of the next few weeks. Those who didn’t succumb right away would get cancer within a decade.
She set the report down and picked up another. Potential impact area size and radius of obliteration. Assuming a bomb the size of Hiroshima, everything within a half mile would be vaporized. Catastrophic damage within two miles. Hurricane-like damage within eight.
Earthquakes. Fires. Loss of power. Complete and total infrastructure collapse. Lawlessness. Riots. Starvation.
She set the papers down and sucked in some air. “Do you see anything on timing? Anything estimating where and when?”
Keith rooted through the documents. “This one’s on foreign aid and estimated deployment timing.” He picked up another. “This one details disruption to cargo ships and international trade.” He shoved a stack aside and picked up a single sheet. “This is outlining economic damage to international stock markets.” He cursed. “Nothing. There’s nothing.”
Lainey hurried down the length of the table, scanning the reports. “Some of these were written last year. Have they known about the threat that long? Why hasn’t anyone said anything? Why hasn’t the government put out some sort of warning?”
“Maybe they don’t want us to know.”
“What are you talking about?”
Keith dropped the paper in his hand. “If they can’t stop it, what’s the point of telling people about it? All it would cause is mass panic. From the government’s point of view, riding it out and cleaning it up after might be the better strategy.”
Horror festered in Lainey’s stomach, sloshing the remnants of the diner food around in a sea of disgust. “But that would mean millions of Americans would die.”
“Yep. But it wo
uldn’t be their fault. They could blame it on someone else and rebuild with the ones left. If they came out and warned everyone of a nuclear attack, every city would erupt into chaos. We’d have riots and murders and anarchy.”
“But people would have a chance to survive.”
“The government wouldn’t.”
Lainey covered her face with her hand. As much as it sickened her to admit it, Keith was right. If the bombs were in play and they couldn’t stop them, would the government say a word? She turned back to the table. “I still don’t understand why they haven’t stopped the attack. Between the United States military, FBI, CIA, and all the foreign intelligences, couldn’t someone find the bombs?”
Keith stilled. “What if they don’t want to?”
Lainey shook her head. “No, that’s impossible.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense, Lainey. Think about Rick. He was fine until he started snooping around and then—poof. No phone, no website, totally scrubbed. Who else can do that except the federal government? Who else can make a citizen disappear?”
“I don’t believe it.” Or at least she didn’t want to. Lainey pulled out her phone. “We need to document this. Take pictures and video to review later. You take that side and I’ll take this one.” She set to work, ignoring the fear as she forced her hands to stop shaking.
Snap. Snap. Snap. Photo after photo of every page. Lainey and Keith flipped through reports and set them to the side, racing to record every bit of evidence. “Maybe there’s something we’ve overlooked. Maybe something in here will give us the details.”
Lainey dragged a stack of papers toward her and switched the phone to video, flipping the pages as she recorded. “We can’t give up on this. If I take all this to Matt, he’ll have to give us a chance to report. He can’t ignore all of this evidence.”