He pulled out his pocket-knife and carefully snipped the stitches, revealing a small Ziploc bag containing a credit card and a piece of paper with a phone number written on it — a simple escape and evasion kit. “This guy must’ve been some kind of leader,” Chris said. “He’s the only one with an E & E kit.”
Hannah’s attention seemed to be elsewhere. “You know, when we cleared the house, the bookshelf in the master bedroom seemed kind of shallow.” She left the room without another word, and he followed her into the master bedroom.
She pointed to the wall next to it. “You see how thick this wall is — that could be used to add a closet — or something. It’s all dead space. Why would a builder leave all that dead space?”
“The paint on this wall is newer than the rest of the room,” Chris said.
“That, too. And why paint only one wall in the master bedroom? Nobody sees it.” She pushed and pulled on the bookcase, but it didn’t move. “Young, it’s me, Hannah! Can you hear me?”
Chris helped her tug at the bookcase. It moved slightly before stopping, as if it was locked from the inside. “Young, it’s Chris! Your house is secure!”
“Young, are you in there?” Hannah called. “It’s safe to come out.”
A click sounded from behind the bookcase, and then it opened. Young came out from a secret room carrying computer equipment under his arm, and Chris let out a sigh of relief. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and dark bags sagged below them, his skin was pale and his feet unsteady. But he was alive.
Chris helped him out and set his computer equipment to the side. He was in a hurry to keep Young safe, but he wasn’t in a hurry to show him the carnage in the rest of the house. “Why don’t you lie down on the bed for a bit until we can get some more help?”
Hannah threw off the bed covers, and when Young sat on the edge of the bed, she helped him out of his shoes. Then she touched his cheek. “Your skin feels cool.”
He lay in a fetal position, and she tucked him in. “I wasn’t expecting it,” Young said quietly. “The police officer outside radioed something to Agent Garnet, and he told me to take cover in the master bedroom. Then there were gunshots outside, the door crashed down, and all hell broke loose. There was so much noise that the house vibrated. It was so terrible. I almost pissed myself, but I was too scared to piss. Then I heard voices — Arabic.” His voice started to tremble along with his body. “They were looking for me. I was so scared Professor Mordet would find me; I was so scared. They searched my bedroom for what seemed like forever.”
“You’re okay now,” Hannah said.
“Was Mordet here?” Chris asked.
“I … I don’t know,” Young replied.
“Did you hear anything that might be a clue — anything at all?” Chris asked.
Young looked up at him. “It was all in Arabic.”
Chris nodded.
“I took this off one of the tangos.” Chris handed Young the bag with the credit card and phone number. “After you rest a little, I need an address for this phone number.”
Young exhaled long and slow. “Okay.”
“We’ll be here with you,” Chris promised.
Chris backed off to give Young a rest, and Hannah stroked Young’s hair.
“Did anyone survive?” Young asked.
“Shh,” Hannah said. “Just rest.”
Young leaned forward. “I have to know.”
“They’re all gone,” Chris answered.
“They were under attack, and all I could do was hide,” Young said. “I should’ve done something to help, anything. Instead of just hiding … like a coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” Chris snapped. “You helped us when no else would. Your unique computer skills are critical to this mission. We can’t find Mordet and stop him if you’re dead. Agent Garnet’s job was to protect you, and he did. If you tried to do his job and he tried to do your job, you’d both be dead.”
“Maybe,” Young said.
“Just rest,” Hannah said again, soothingly.
Sirens sounded outside, and Young looked to the window. “Police.”
“We’ll take care of the police while you rest,” Chris said. “You’ll need your energy for what’s next.”
“What’s next?” Young asked.
“I don’t know,” Chris answered. The only easy day was yesterday.
Chris and Hannah explained to the police what had happened, and then they explained again when FBI Agent Trinity Hayes arrived. Her chestnut hair touched her shoulders, and she moved confidently and slowly like a snake, referring to the FBI as the Boo, short for the Bureau: “The Boo can never replace a guy like Frank,” she said. “Right now most of our agents are running around chasing false leads on Professor Mordet.”
“Have you been in touch with the computer forensics people about what’s inside the Nasrallah cousins’ van we gave them?” Chris asked.
“It was serving as some kind of repeater for another computer, but we haven’t been able to trace it to the original source,” she said. “Fortunately, the attacks on our airports have stopped.”
“We’ll need a safe house for Young,” Chris said.
“I’ll take care of that,” she said.
Chris liked the conviction in her voice, and he and Hannah both thanked her. Then they went into the master bedroom to check on Young. “How’re you doing?” Chris asked.
Young turned over on his side. “I’d like to go back to work.”
“You need to pack first,” Chris said. “The Bureau is arranging for a safe house. You can’t stay here, even if it weren’t a crime scene.”
Young sat up. “Okay.”
Rather than dwell on the terrors of the past, Chris preferred to dwell on the opportunities of the future. He gave Young a gentle punch in the shoulder. “You’ll be up and running again in no time.”
“I’m backed up on the cloud and with one of my assistants,” Young said, “so as soon as I replace some equipment, I should be back in action.”
“I’ll make sure we get some protection for your assistants, too,” Hannah said.
Chris gave her a small smile. “Good idea.”
Young stood, his jaw dropping for a moment. “I do remember something.”
“What?” Chris asked.
“One of them grunted in a strange way, like a nervous tic or something. And there was a noise, like the sound of a cigarette lighter flicking open and closed.”
Chris knew those sounds. “Little Kale.”
“You think?” Young asked.
“I know.”
Minutes later, Chris and everyone in Young’s house loaded themselves and their gear into a black SUV while Bureau and police escorts stood by.
34
The Bureau agent switched on his headlights, put the SUV into drive, and pulled into the street as Trinity made calls on her cell phone from the passenger seat. While carefully checking his mirrors, the driver cruised around a block in a circle, but no one seemed to be following them. Chris, Hannah, and Young sat in the back.
Fourteen kilometers later, they reached a two-story milky-white southern colonial in an upscale neighborhood. Four columns formed a colonnade in front of the house, the roof sheltering a front patio behind the columns. Black shutters bordered the windows.
“Here we are,” Trinity said. They got out of the SUV and walked across a symmetrical brick walkway that led to the door.
“We seized this property years ago from a guy running a Ponzi scheme,” Trinity said. “Put it up for auction but didn’t get the minimum bid, and the Boo needed a safe house, so we paid the minimum to a fund for the investors who got scammed.”