The man shrank into his chair. Houston removed a set of folded papers from inside her coat and looked them over. As the seconds ticked by the manager began to sweat. Beads of perspiration dripped down his forehead, and his underarms stained.
Houston grabbed a pen and circled several regions on the paper. “Ryan, I need you to find shipments that match these weight specifications.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
The manager typed furiously on his computer keyboard. Within seconds, his face relaxed. “Yes, I have a bunch of them. Lots of orders match those specs exactly.”
“Where are they shipped to?”
“Um. That’s interesting. All shipped to the same place. Some address in Jersey.”
“We would like you to print out one of those records, Ryan, with the address.”
“Yeah, okay.” He clicked several times with his mouse. A small printer behind Houston whirred to life.
She grabbed the printout and stared at it. Nodding to Lopez, she grabbed the paper she had given the manager and then pocketed all of them. A wad of cash thudded on his desktop.
“You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, Ryan?”
He looked at the knife again. “No way.”
“We were never here, and you can enjoy the fee for this priority service.” The man nodded dumbly, taking the money. “But this is a discrete service, right?” She glanced at Lopez, who twirled the knife slowly, staring at the serrated edges. “There isn’t going to be any need for us to come back and register a complaint that our privacy has been violated, is there?”
Again the man swallowed. “No. I never saw you.”
“That’s good,” she said smiling, opening the door.
Lopez sheathed the knife. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
33
“You sure you’re up to this, John?”
Savas shifted his position in the car once again. It didn’t help. He was bruised all over his body, several lacerations still quite painful to the touch. He stared at Miller and ground his teeth. Of course he was up to it.
“Frank, I’d have to lose a leg or worse to have an excuse not to be on the ground in this crisis. Are you going to tell me otherwise?”
“You are literally the boss, so okay.” The ex-Marine continued to focus ahead as he drove. “And Rebecca?”
“Tibia was snapped. Soft tissue damage from the bone as well. It’s set, she’s stitched up. But it’s going to be a serious cast and crutches for a couple months. She’ll heal. She’s tough.”
Miller nodded. “It always seems to get personal with us, doesn’t it?”
Images of a gray-haired man swept through Savas’ mind. They came with explosions and collapsing buildings, a sniper round buried in the shoulder of the man driving next to him. A massacre of an FBI division. A threat to Rebecca’s life.
“Yeah, and I’m getting kinda tired of it.”
“We sure know how to make friends.” Miller’s smiled faded as they pulled alongside a black van in an abandoned parking lot. “Don’t think this club is going to be very taken with us today. I hope this intel is worth it.”
“Highest level contact in Anonymous we have. Rebecca seems to trust him. Let’s see if she’s right.”
A commuter train rumbled overhead along the Queens subway line. Nestled underneath, a rusted warehouse waited before them. Heavily armed FBI agents in body armor stepped out of the dark van and grouped around them.
Savas limped toward the group. “I’m sorry to pull you from every which division, but you know what we’re up against. FBI — now the damn Federal Bodyguard Institute.” The men laughed. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. We might already be too late, but we have to try. Police are inbound, but we’ll be without their backup for the dangerous parts. I’ll let our vet from Kabul fill you in.”
Miller stepped forward. “There was no time and no data to recon this right. I don’t know what we’ll find in there. Might well be empty. Might be an armed engagement with as many as ten hostiles. But if our intelligence is right, it’s going to be a bunch of hackers scared shitless about what’s going down. We don’t need them dead — understood? We need information. They need to be able to talk, and dead men don’t. Defend yourselves but keep a level head. We’ll go in through the main door with a volley of flash bangs and tear gas. Unless they’re trained militia, that ought to have most of them rolling on the ground crying for mommy. Bag them and into the van. Make sure you canvas the interior and clear it. We don’t want any surprises. Questions?”
“Yes, sir,” came a voice of a young blond to the right. “Is this Anonymous? Are these the guys?”
“We don’t know, but not likely. But we think they can get us to the real criminals. So remember—alive. Understood?”
The men nodded. Along with Savas and Miller, they donned gas masks. Savas drew his weapon. “Okay, boys, your show.”
The SWAT team filed off in a quick jog, splitting into two groups on either side of the door, weapons at the ready, quickly reaching the wall of the warehouse and using it as cover from the building windows. They slid along the sides, Miller and Savas at the far end of the lines. An officer nearest the door pulled slightly on the handle near the ground. The rollup door moved slightly, and he gave the thumbs up. Miller nodded, the other officers set, and the door was raised.
The men dashed inside and out of sight. Savas ran forward and could just discern the arc of canisters being lobbed in to the air and over a set of dark obstacles inside the building. The flash bangs flashed and banged. It was nearly stunning even from their position. Several canisters of tear gas filled the space inside with a cloud of burning vapor.
For a moment, there was no other sound. Then the screams began.
The SWAT team pulled out the last member of Anonymous just as their police backup finally arrived. They had never been in any danger. The disoriented and snot dripping youth that were dragged out of the warehouse were never going to put up any kind of a fight. Some of the SWAT team administered first aid to those who had suffered most from the chemicals and shock. It looked to Savas that the agents felt sorry for them.
The blond leader of the SWAT team came out of the warehouse, mask in hand.
“Secured?” asked Miller.
“Yeah,” he said, and coughed. “Most of the gas is gone. And you need to come and see this.”
Savas arched an eyebrow. “Right behind you.”
He led the special agents into the warehouse. The dark obstacles Savas had seen were revealed to be rows of computer hardware stacked six feet high in places. The SWAT officer zig-zagged through it like a maze and brought them to the center, a space occupied with several large monitors. And two decomposing bodies.
“Jesus, that ruins your lunch,” said Miller, scowling.
Savas stepped forward and stared at the bodies. Flies danced around the forms and maggots were slithering over the decayed faces. “They’ve been here a while. Likely rules out a killing by our friends.”
“Today, anyway,” said the SWAT officer.
“I doubt they’d have come back here,” said Miller. “Division in the ranks?”
Savas nodded. “Looks like a hacking bunker. I’d say these poor jerks pissed somebody off.”
“Fawkes,” said Miller. “He’s turning out to be one ruthless bastard.”
“Okay, let’s get a forensics team in here and see what we can find. My guess is the computers are all wiped. But we need to check them all. Meanwhile,” he said, turning toward the door, “I’ve got a few questions for our hogtied friends outside.”
He strode back out the door, Miller close behind. The members of Anonymous were placed in a circle in front of the FBI van facing outwards. Their eyes were red, faces flushed, one with bandages over his head. Groups of NYPD and SWAT officers mingled in haphazard groups around them. He stopped in front of the circle.