Dead in a Week

by Andrea Kane

  Four Seasons Hotel, Palo Alto

  1 March

  Thursday, 12:05 p.m. local time

  Terri answered on the first ring. “Yes?”

  “I’m at my hotel,” Simone began without prelude. She was squatting in front of her room safe, removing the package she needed while simultaneously locating her pistol and ammunition. Those she set aside for the moment.

  “I’m holding the electronic gift box you sent Aidan.”

  “Good. You know what you’re looking for?”

  “Aidan told me.” Simone was already rummaging around. “I’ve got the key fob,” she said, extracting the item. “How does it work?”

  “Think of it as a really small cell phone.” Terri explained the device in the simplest terms possible to Simone. “The difference is, there’s no speaker in the key fob, so no one can hear your side of the conversation. Only you can hear what’s going on in their location. The microphone is optimized to be very sensitive and to pick up sounds in all directions.”

  Simone nodded, pursing her lips as she turned the device over in her hands. It looked totally innocuous. “So the conversations going on in Jia li’s apartment will be transmitted to my cell phone. I’ll have conferenced you in so you can listen and record what’s being said.”

  “Exactly. Also, you and I can talk to one another without being heard, just as if we’ve placed them on mute.”

  “Okay.” Simone looked inside the package and extracted the black box labelled: Windsor. “I’ve got the cell phone interceptor gadget.”

  “The IMSI-catcher,” Terri clarified. She then went on to explain how it functioned.

  “And I’m planting this exactly where at the Business School?”

  Terri gave her a building and room number. “Just put it in the closet there. That’s all the proximity I need.”

  “I can do this any time?”

  “Sometime between now and four p.m.”

  Simone blew out a breath. “Let’s get into the specifics of this twosided plan. For starters, how do we know Jia li will be away from her apartment when we want her to be? Especially since we don’t know for certain when Aidan will give us the go-ahead?”

  “The Gulfstream should be landing in Osijek at one a.m. Croatian time, which is still four p.m. PST,” Terri reported. “Aidan and the team will already have their plan in place. The strike will be imminent.”

  “That still doesn’t pinpoint the time.”

  “Agreed. So I’ve isolated our window of opportunity. Jia li is registered for the winter session at Stanford Business School. She has no classes today, but she does have a seven p.m. meeting of her business club—a meeting that generally runs a minimum of an hour and a half and often as long as two.”

  “In the room you just gave me.”

  “Yes. According to her credit card receipts, she eats at the same off-campus café every Thursday evening at six. It’s a twelve-minute drive from her apartment to campus. Which means you can park outside her building and watch her leave, probably between five thirty and five forty-five.”

  “Then our start time is pretty well set,” Simone replied. “But what about our end time? It’s possible we won’t hear from Aidan until dawn, Croatian time, which is about nine tonight, PST. That’s tight.”

  “After her club meetings, Jia li and a few of her friends hang around and have a few pizzas delivered. It appears to be their weekly ritual. She stays in the same classroom for at least an hour, which gives us extra padding. It should be enough. You’re correct that there will be pressure. But you stand up well to that.”

  Simone smiled at Terri’s typically brusque compliment. “I appreciate your vote of confidence. I got your specs on Jia li’s car. I know I’m looking for a BMW M4 blue metallic convertible—which should be more than easy to spot, just in case she’s already exiting the apartment complex when I see her. Now, what other details do I need to know up front?”

  “I texted you Jia li’s photo and address.”

  “I have both. Pretty girl. Nice garden apartments from the photos I saw online.”

  “Nice but understated. No doorman or front desk—handy for someone who wants to keep a low profile and entertain visitors who prefer to remain anonymous. Jia li’s unit is on the first floor—apartment five, to the left of the lobby—so you won’t have stairs to navigate. On the other hand, it’s bound to be a higher-traffic area. Plus, you’ll have to find a way to get into the building itself, which will require a key card to gain entrance.”

  “Understood. I’ll handle it.”

  “Call me after you’ve left the school and again when you’re situated at the apartment,” Terri said. “I have my own homework to do in the meantime. Plus, Aidan already gave me his instructions about hacking into the TSA. I’ll penetrate their firewall and be ready to add the suspects to the No Fly List when Aidan gives me the go-ahead.”

  27

  Eighteen hours left…

  Abandoned farmhouse

  Đakovo, Croatia

  2 March

  Friday, 2:25 a.m. local time

  Everything was in place.

  The Zermatt jet had landed on schedule. Aidan had jumped into the passenger seat of the black SUV, and Marc had peeled off, heading for the rescue site, where Philip was waiting for them.

  Marc parked behind the stand of trees adjacent to Philip’s vehicle.

  “Give me an update,” Aidan instructed Philip, vaulting out of the car and tossing his ski jacket into the back seat. As he spoke, he zipped open his gear bag and removed all the necessary equipment. He pulled on his bulletproof, standard military-issue vest—which he loaded with two flash grenades and extra ammo—and shoved his Glock 27 nine-millimeter pistol into his thigh holster. He then collected his Peltor headset, which would block out the deafening noise created by their flash grenades, and his flashbang-proof goggles. Last, he readied his H&K nine-millimeter MP5 submachine gun and yanked on his Nomex gloves. Marc had hopped out of the SUV and was going through the identical process.

  Philip was already in full gear, so he used those precious minutes to give Aidan a full report.

  “Mr. Smoker had his last cigarette break twenty minutes ago. He should be doing a repeat performance in another forty. The others are inside. There’s been no outdoor activity and no visible indoor activity since my earlier report to Marc.”

  “So we progress to our attack position now,” Aidan said, referring to the barn, where they’d be launching their assault of the house. “We’ll move from point to point based on Philip’s recon—first the stone wall, then the drainage ditch, then the trees, then the barn. We wait for Mr. Smoker to come out and light up. Then we go.”

  Both Marc and Philip nodded. The tactical plan had been finalized as Aidan’s plane was nearing Osijek. All three men were ready to act.

  On Aidan’s signal, they moved.

  Silently, using only hand and arm signals to communicate with one another, they made their way forward, stopping at each designated point and squatting down low for concealment and assessment. Once assured that they were undetected, they continued to advance, sidestepping all icy patches so their athletic boots didn’t make the slightest crunching sounds on the otherwise soggy ground.

  They didn’t stop until they were secure in the shelter of the barn.

  Anchoring their helmets, goggles, and radio microphones in place, they hunkered down and waited.

  Crescent Woods Garden Apartments

  Palo Alto, California

  1 March

  Thursday, 5:32 p.m. local time

  Simone had parked on the tree-lined street directly across from Jia li’s apartment complex. Hers was one of a line of cars parked along the curb, so it blended in nicely, inconspicuously.

  She was hopeful that this second part of the plan would go as smoothly as the first. The only potential obstacle she’d come up against at the Business School was a tired custodian whose cart was propping open the outside door. The cart itself was a blessing
in disguise, as it had allowed Simone easy access to the building. The custodian was the sticky part. Using her best damsel in distress techniques, she’d managed to convince him that she’d left her iPad in a particular room and prevailed upon him to let her in to find it. He hemmed and hawed for maybe two minutes, during which time he’d checked out her legs twice and her breasts three times. All part of her plan; he let her in.

  The custodian waited outside the room, giving Simone plenty of opportunity to plant the device, slide her iPad out of her tote bag, and pretend to find it again. Exiting quickly, she’d thanked him profusely, clutching her iPad like a priceless treasure, and scooted out the door.

  Success.

  She’d reported in to Terri, who was concentrating hard on whatever she was working on and who sounded totally revved up by the results.

  “I need you to make a quick stop at Fry’s,” she said. “There’s one right there in Palo Alto. Pick up a small USB drive, a name brand, not a generic, and one that’s easy to open.”

  “How large a capacity should it have?” Simone asked.

  “Anything sixteen gigabytes or bigger should be fine. And get some anti-static gloves in your size. Also, a padded manila envelope. Pay cash so there’s no electronic trail.”

  “Of course.”

  “One last thing. Make sure you have your laptop with you when you head out to Jia li’s apartment.”

  “I already have it. It’s in my tote bag.”

  “Good.”

  Simone had squelched her curiosity. She’d get her answers when she needed them.

  Now, she turned off her ignition and called Terri again, this time not only to check in but to fit in. She looked like yet another driver, parked and waiting for someone and, in the interim, chatting on her cell phone.

  “I’m in position,” she said as soon as Terri was on the line.

  “Good.” Terri had been quite pleased with Simone’s results thus far. “You took care of the errand?”

  “I have everything you asked for, and my laptop is ready and waiting for your instructions.”

  “Do you have a visual on Jia li’s apartment unit?”

  “Yes. I’m parked directly across the street from the apartment and the covered parking area. I’ll be able to see her leave and to make sure she doesn’t make a surprise return. You haven’t heard from Aidan, have you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Neither have I.” Simone’s forehead creased with worry. “I know this is business-as-usual for him, but I’m on edge anyway. Unrealistic as it is, there’s a part of me that was hoping the mission was already completed and that the team was on their way home with Lauren.”

  “I understand.” Terri sounded concerned, too, at least for Terri. “I half expected to have gotten the thumbs-up from Aidan by now. That having been said…” She continued, back to her get-it-done self. “You and I must compartmentalize so we can be effective at our part in this investigation.”

  “Agreed.” Simone glanced up as a runner jogged by—a tanned California girl with a blonde ponytail. Definitely not Jia li.

  “Do you have all your tools ready?” Terri asked.

  “Um-hum—along with my gun.”

  “I see.” Terri didn’t sound surprised. “I’m sure Aidan wasn’t happy about that.”

  “No, he wasn’t. But it’s a necessary precaution, especially once you fire off that text. Who knows whether either the mole or Jia li will turn violent once they realize they’ve been compromised. The mole will likely recognize me from Nano, and I need to be prepared.”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you going to tell me what I’m downloading onto this USB drive?”

  “Later. Time’s too tight right now. Jia li will be leaving for her club meeting any minute.”

  Abruptly, Simone sat up in her seat. “Sooner than that,” she said as a blue BMW exited from the enclosed lot. The driver signaled right and pulled out, at which point Simone got an excellent view of her. “Jia li is on her way.”

  Simone waited five minutes to make sure her target didn’t return unexpectedly for some forgotten item. Then she grabbed her purse— complete with everything she and Terri had discussed—got out of her car, and calmly strolled across the street.

  The garden apartment complex was three stories high, charming in an outdoorsy, California kind of way. Each unit had a private wooden terrace wrapped around it, with a broad window that overlooked either the landscaped grounds or the outdoor pool. Lots of palm trees and lush greenery lined the stone path that Simone walked up as she made her way to the quiet entranceway door.

  There she paused, taking out her cell phone and, brows drawn together in feigned frustration, seemingly checked and rechecked her text messages.

  It took less than ten minutes for a young couple—holding hands and gazing intimately at each other while laughing at some private joke—to exit the building. They moseyed their way out, letting the door swing shut behind them, barely missing Simone as they did. They moved on, oblivious to Simone and the whole damned world.

  Simone caught the handle just before the door shut completely, the hint of a smile at her lips. Nothing like twentysomething lovers to give her the unnoticed entry she sought.

  The lobby was nothing more than a polished oak floor, two tufted armchairs, and some striking potted plants. No front desk. No front doorman. As always, Terri was spot-on with her research.

  Simone turned left and headed down the deserted hallway to apartment five. She paused, listening for approaching footsteps and simultaneously scrutinizing the hallway. So far, so good.

  She took out her lock-picking tools and went to work.

  Three minutes later she was inside, ready to go.

  The living room was straight ahead, decorated with a matching sofa and love seat and two accent chairs, all done in muted shades of turquoise and pink. Peaceful watercolor artwork hung on the walls, and there was a simple glass coffee table in the center of the furniture grouping. All very feminine and tasteful. More mature than youthful, but that was no surprise, given Jia li was far from the average grad student. She played in the sophisticated big leagues and her decorating tastes reflected that.

  Simone didn’t waste a second. She crossed over to the sofa, took out the key fob, and knelt down, sliding it across the carpeted floor just beneath the center section of the sofa. Out of sight. Out of reach. But so innocuous that, if and when found, it would seem insignificant.

  In a heartbeat, Simone snapped her purse shut and retraced her steps, then hovered with her ear against the front door. She heard a bunch of footsteps accompanied by laughing voices as a group of people made their way down the hall, passing Jia Li’s apartment, their voices fading away as they neared the lobby.

  There were no other sounds alerting her to further activity, but Simone still waited a good few minutes longer. She wasn’t taking any chances. Jia li’s apartment door was visible from the lobby. She had to make doubly sure that whoever had passed had also left the building.

  Utter silence endured.

  Carefully, Simone opened the door a crack and peered both ways.

  No one.

  She slipped out of the apartment, reengaged the lock, and walked out of the building with the same easygoing veneer with which she’d arrived.

  Abandoned farmhouse

  Đakovo, Croatia

  2 March

  Friday, 3:07 a.m. local time

  Aidan’s adrenaline was pumping.

  Mr. Smoker had just sauntered out of the house and was now leaning against the porch post, taking long, leisurely drags of his cigarette.

  One minute. Two minutes.

  The kidnapper flicked an ash and shifted position so that his back was to them.

  “Now,” Aidan ordered between gritted teeth.

  They all moved at once.

  Philip raced to the front door, Aidan and Marc to the back.

  Before Mr. Smoker had lifted the cigarette back to his lips, Philip was on him, c
racking the butt of his MP5 over the guy’s head, fracturing his skull in one motion. He crumpled to the ground. Philip dealt a second blow to the already-dead man, then checked for vitals. None.

  “One down,” he said into his microphone.

  Aidan and Marc had reached the back door. Contrary to expectation, it was locked. Marc put the heel of his boot alongside the doorknob and kicked it in. Aidan pulled the pin out of the flashbang, turned his head away, and tossed the grenade inside the farmhouse on the floor.

  A deafening bang and blinding strobe lights exploded through the house. Piercing screams echoed as loss of sight, hearing, and balance seized whomever was in range.

  Aidan and Marc burst in. In direct sight was one powerful guy who’d been sitting in front of the TV and who’d now dropped to his knees, howling in agony. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his hands were clapped over his ears.

  Aidan raised his MP5 and double-tapped him, delivering two shots to the chest. He followed up with one quick shot to the head. The man fell like a stone.

  A second guy came screaming out of one of the bedrooms, unaffected by the grenade but scared shitless by the explosion and gunshots.

  Marc swerved around, MP5 raised, and took him out, also going for center mass and firing two shots to his chest and a final one to the head.

  Two dead bodies. No further activity.

  “Two men down,” Aidan said into his microphone. “Room clearing.”

  Aidan and Marc did a sweep of the farmhouse, finding all the rooms empty except one.

  In the center bedroom, curled up in a ball on the bed and frozen with terror, was Lauren Pennington. She whimpered when she saw them, looking frantically around for a means to escape.

  “We’re the good guys, Lauren,” Aidan said gently, purposely staying still and not advancing toward her until she understood. “We work for your father. We’re here to take you home.”

  “Home?” Lauren stared at them for a moment and then burst into tears. “But Bashkim… he’s out there. And the others…”

  “They’re all dead. You’re safe.”