33. Ben
Wheeler and I stared at the same monitor inside the HEAT van. We were parked two blocks away from the community center, but we had a perfect view of the parking lot and surrounding streets, thanks to Pasco’s completely legal and warranted tapping of the public security cameras.
The legality of the tiny red camera stitched into Lang’s sweater, which gave us a view inside the community center, was more of a gray area. But we were only observing. Not interfering, Not even recording. Which chapped our hides, but laws are laws. Or so Kat kept reminding us.
The camera showed us the area in front of Lang, including a wide swath of the audience and the stage, and worst of all, the douche canoe that was Howard Anson.
When he said, “If your wealth isn’t healthy, then your health isn’t wealthy,” and the entire crowd repeated the chant five times, I nearly stormed the castle to whisk Savannah to safety, because I’d met my share of zealots and I was not a fan.
“Steady, mate,” Wheeler said.
“What the hell does that even mean?” I muttered. “Do they even think about what they’re mindlessly repeating?”
“It’s a high-control group, Hayes,” Kat said. “And this is a recruiting night and a chance to rub elbows with their guru, so they’ll be on their best behavior.”
“Unless he orders them on to go on a rampage,” I said.
“Calm. The fuck. Down.” Lang whispered into the comms.
I had no choice but to follow his advice because he was the one on the inside, thus he had the advantage of full situational awareness. He had to make the calls on the ground, and I had to fucking deal with it. But just because I trusted Lang to have Savannah’s back didn’t mean I had to like it.
He sat in the seat in the far left corner of the room. It gave him a view of the wide-open meeting room that thankfully didn’t have any hidden blind spots, as well as the attendees. The squeaky door to the room made it easy to track anyone coming or going, but even if it had been silent, Lang had an unobstructed view of that, as well.
I relaxed as I reviewed his choices and found them acceptable. He was a seasoned dog in this hunt, and HEAT operatives are specialists, but they have to cross-train. With such small, tight teams, you never knew when a tac op would have to apply life-saving first aid, or—case in point—a logistician would have to jump into the action.
“This is interesting,” Bloom said. He was in position on a roof three stories up and half a block away from the center. “Check out the parking lot.”
We had several images running at once on the monitor. I tapped the small square that showed the parking lot and enlarged it. There were two women standing several feet away from the building. I was no body language expert like Mai’s tac op partner, but unless someone’s actively attempting to obfuscate their emotions, the strong ones are pretty easy to read. In this case, the message was loud and clear. These women were pissed at each other.
“Can you get us a clearer view?” Kat asked Bloom.
“You got it, boss.”
The camera zoomed in on the women.
“I wish we could get a better view of their lips,” Wheeler said.
“You read lips?” I asked.
“You don’t?” He shook his head like the arrogant Airman he was.
“Hold on.” I leaned closer to the monitor. “That’s Lisa.”
“Zip-tie Lisa?” Wheeler leaned in, too.
“Receptionist Lisa, asshole,” I responded.
“Lisa’s friend is walking toward her car,” Bloom narrated what we were all watching. “Oh, she’s turning around to have more words. Wish we could have gotten a warrant for audio.”
“Don’t get me started,” Pasco grumbled.
“Lisa’s friend is in the car, rolling down the window, more words.”
There was tension in the ranks. That was to be expected, but the two women looked ready to crack. I might be able to widen a crack enough to extract some useful information.
“We don’t have live audio,” I said, “but with a little luck, we could have the next best thing.”
“What’s that?” Kat asked.
“A hot wash.” When they were silent, I clarified, “An after-action debriefing.”
“We know what a hot wash is, asshole,” Wheeler said. “Are you going to trot out there and ask her to write up the conversation for you?”
I grinned. “Something like that.”
“Lisa’s alone now,” Bloom continued. “Walking it off. Oh, Lisa smokes! Bad girl, Lisa. How are you going to keep your wealth healthy that way?”
“Bloom!” we all said at once.
“Roger that,” he responded.
I glanced at Kat. “Permission to approach?”
She considered it, then nodded. “Stick to the original story. You’re Savannah’s security guard, walking the perimeter to assess threats.”
I zipped up my black jacket to hide my gear, both electronic and protective, and climbed out of the van, closing the door soundlessly behind me. I stuck to the shadows until I was directly across the street from the parking lot. When I was sure she’d spotted me, I waved.
I could see her hesitation, and I didn’t blame her. A woman by herself in a poorly lit parking lot who sees any dude coming toward her, let alone a reasonably sized one dressed head to toe in black, has reason for alarm.
“Lisa!” I waved again as I approached. “It’s me, Smith. From Friday.” Once I was close enough for her to get a good look at me, I stopped. I didn’t want to send her running.
“Oh, Mr. Zip Ties.”
Someone chuckled in my earpiece. Probably Wheeler.
“Again, I’m so sorry about that. I’m here providing security for Miss Lindstrom. I was walking the perimeter, and when I saw you, I wanted to come over and apologize again.” I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced around. Then I lowered my voice. “We can’t be too careful these days. Well, I don’t have to tell you. You know what’s going on.”
The blank look on her face told me she had no idea what was going on or what the hell I was talking about. But she leaned closer, hungry to learn. One thing high-control groups control best is information. The vacuum often turns normal human curiosity into a gaping black hole, seeking gossip to consume.
I hesitated, making her work for it. And yes, I felt bad about it. I felt a little sorry for Lisa. But for her to drop any tidbits we might be able to use later, I needed her to put her chips on the table.
“I probably shouldn’t.” I glanced down the street.
“Oh, it’s okay,” she said. “You can tell me. All of us who work in the Annapolis office are in the Thousandaire Club.”
According to our research, that was the third rung on WCI’s hierarchy. Yes, the douche canoe Anson had named the levels. Above Lisa’s group was the Millionaire Club, then the Billionaire Club. Only a handful of people, along with Anson, of course, had made it to the top.
“Then you know.” I nodded as if it were a given. “It’s scary that there’s been a threat against someone in the B Club.”
“Oh!” She couldn’t cover her shock. “Of course, but no one knows who’s been threatened, do they?”
I shook my head. I’d say none of them, since I’d just made it up, but it gave me a lead-in to my first question for her. “But I’m more worried about who made the threat.” I glanced around again, doing my best to look paranoid. “It has to be someone inside WCI, don’t you think? I mean, who else has that kind of access, to be able to deliver the threat that way?”
Lisa’s eyes were wide. “I don’t think I heard how the threat was delivered.”
And she wasn’t going to. “Listen, you’re at these meetings pretty regularly, aren’t you?” I guessed.
She nodded. “The Annapolis office supports all the events in Maryland, New York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware. Plus…” She wanted to tell me something. But her indoctrination was rearing its ugly head, reminding her that information is not to be shared freely.
“I’m only asking because I’m trying to help root out whoever’s trying to ruin this great organization,” I said. “You know there are haters out there.” I pointed to the community center and whispered. “And possibly in there.”
Her eyes were round. “I know.” She took a step toward me and dropped her voice. “We process all the new-recruit paperwork from all over the country at our office. We ask a lot of questions, you know, to weed out the bad seeds. The haters. But don’t worry. They don’t get past us. We throw them out.”
In my earpiece, Wheeler said, “A swing and a miss.”
“Wow, so all the new-recruit paperwork from the entire country goes through your office?” That was as much to remind Wheeler that I had, in fact, learned something valuable as it was to show Lisa I was impressed.
“And all the new training manuals, lesson plans, other…” She stopped.
Oh, Lisa, you were so close to spilling.
From Lang’s feed, I heard rustling. People were moving. The meeting was probably ending. Time to aim for the fences.
“Listen, I have to make one last lap before I meet up with Miss Lindstrom. I’m only telling you this because I know I can trust you.” I touched her shoulder. “Lisa, I’m afraid there’s someone toxic in the organization. Someone near the top. Does that make you think of anyone?”
She glanced over her shoulder like she was afraid she was being watched. “I’ve heard rumors that someone’s going to be ex-communicated.”
I didn’t flinch. “Do you have a name?”
“No, but Devlin Masters comes to mind.”
Shit. Devlin was only a bit player, and Anson was too smart to get his own hands dirty. There had to be a high-up go-between, someone so shady that even Lisa would notice.
“Although, I wonder about the new IT guy Howard hired. Everyone in the Thousandaire Club calls Mr. Anson Howard.”
Membership has its privileges, I guess.
“I only met him because we had to process some forms at our office,” she continued. “He gave me a bad vibe. He was kind of like…”
Fuck me. “Like me? It’s okay. I’m not offended. But how? He was partly Asian?” I asked hopefully.
“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant. Taylor’s very… Precise. He can be very still. He seems to notice everyone.”
“Are you hearing what I’m hearing?” Wheeler said in my earpiece.
“We’re all hearing it,” Kat said.
“Do you remember Taylor’s last name?” I asked Lisa, although I assumed it would be fake.
“Taylor Stewart.”
“Lisa, thanks for your help,” I said as I trotted away. “I have to do that perimeter check.”
“Lang,” I said, but as I did, I saw him coming out the door with the first throng of people leaving, following a few feet behind Savannah.
“I’m getting her out,” Lang replied. “I’m not a fucking idiot.”
Since I was her bodyguard, I didn’t have to keep my distance. “Miss Lindstrom,” I said, as I took her elbow and guided her quickly away from the building.
“Something wrong?” she asked. “More wrong than that weird meeting, I mean.”
“I sure as hell hope not,” I said, but my gut was twisting into a knot of warning.
If Lisa’s assessment was right, Anson wanted Devlin out and had recently hired a former spec ops guy. There was probably no hope in hell that those two things were unrelated.