20. Farrow
Chapter twenty
Farrow
The plow had been working on Brattle Street since four a.m.. Six inches of snow had come down overnight, and I’d been tracking the orange flash through the kitchen window. It swept across the brick fronts of the houses opposite until it finally turned a corner, and the street went dark again.
I poured a second cup of coffee.
I was in the kitchen at the Brattle House. Wiley and Samuel were upstairs in one of the front bedrooms. Kohler was in the other. Vega had taken the chair outside Kohler’s door at midnight and would hold it until six. Reed was at the front door.
Five-eighteen. Two more days until the wedding.
I’d met Dane in the front hall at eleven-forty for the watch handoff. He’d put a hand on the side of my neck for a count before lifting his coffee mug off the counter. He didn’t say anything. Then he’d gone upstairs to sleep.
I sipped my coffee and thought: I’m going to tell him today.
His feet sounded on the stairs. He was coming down early. I filled another mug and joined him on the landing.
“Anything?” he asked.
“Not much other than the plow.”
“Cambridge is behind on salt,” he said.
“Cambridge has been behind on salt since 2003.”
Dane took a sip of the coffee.
“Eamon said six.”
“Then he’ll be here at five-fifty-eight.”
“You’re staring,” Dane said without turning his head.
“I am.”
“For a reason?”
“There’s always a reason.”
He looked at me. His eyes in the pale glow of street light through the windows were a darker blue than they were in regular light.
“Let it keep,” Dane said. “Whatever the reason is. Let it keep for after Eamon.”
“He’d love to be our best man.”
He didn’t look at me and continued to drink his coffee.
The radiator ticked. Upstairs, a floorboard shifted under Vega’s weight as she moved her chair an inch.
“I’m going to do the kitchen check,” I said. “Buzz me when Eamon’s at the door.”
“Copy.”
At five-fifty-seven, Reed was in my ear. “Eamon’s at the side door.” He was early.
I let him in. He entered with a leather portfolio under his arm and snow on the shoulders of his coat. Maybe four hours of sleep, by the look of him.
“Coffee,” he said.
“Made.”
He smiled.
Eamon hung his coat in the mudroom and followed me into the kitchen. Dane entered from the hall with an empty mug. The three of us sat around the table.
“Status?” Eamon asked.
“Vega upstairs,” I said. “Reed at the door. Wiley and Samuel are sleeping. Cabot’s down the hall, sleeping too. Kohler woke at three but hasn’t come out."
“What’s the latest from Watertown?” Dane asked.
“The contractor logged nothing in fourteen hours. No vehicles or thermal anomalies.”
“It doesn’t mean they’ve stopped using the house,” Dane said. “It means we’re seeing a quiet window. They cycled the perimeter two nights ago. They know surveillance is on it.”
“Or they’ve moved it already,” I said.
Dane nodded.
Eamon leaned back in his chair. “I need to be direct about the federal piece. The next forty-eight hours hinge on it.”
“Tell us more,” Dane said.
“Federal has what we have. Michael fed everything to FBI Boston. The contact has read the package. He believes us about Maria and the device. He believes the wedding is the target."
Dane placed his hands on the table. “But.”
“But he won’t move on the operatives until he can put a warrant in front of a magistrate who will sign without thinking twice.
Three names with thin connective tissue aren’t enough.
Neither is a consultant’s casualty estimate.
Kohler’s testimony is the strongest single thing we have, and it’s still the testimony of a man whose partner was just killed and who came to us, not federal. ”
“What does enough look like?”
“They need a device or a delivery vehicle.”
“And if we don’t have that by tonight?”
“That means federal won’t make a coordinated move at oh-five-hundred tomorrow morning.
They could still intercept the components or device on the road if we can prove a delivery is on the way.
Worst case is we wait until Wednesday before the wedding and risk Maria detonating the device when she sees the threat. ”
“Eighty guests in a hall that takes five seconds to collapse,” I said.
“Yes.”
Dane looked at Eamon. “What do you need by tonight?”
“A device, vehicle, and delivery address. Something a magistrate can read in six minutes and sign on the seventh.”
“Lowell vendor records,” I said.
“Necessary but not sufficient. Right now it’s a six-thousand-dollar order for components that could have legitimate uses.”
“And Henry’s signature?” Dane asked.
“Dead men don’t testify.”
“Christ,” Dane said.
“It’s the right standard. I’m not asking you to feel good about it.”
Dane was still. .
“There’s a second address,” Eamon said.
He picked up his leather portfolio, pulled out a property record, and turned it so we could read it.
“Michael ran the Lowell vendor’s books a second time last night. The shipping address on one of the component invoices is a climate-controlled storage unit on Pleasant Street in Watertown. It was leased eight weeks ago through a third LLC.”
“Same neighborhood?” Dane asked.
“Six blocks. Walkable.”
“Maria built a chain,” I said.
“The device is never in the same place for more than seventy-two hours.”
“Do we know if the unit is in use?” I asked.
“The climate-controlled units use a key fob to open. The building doesn’t release fob logs to private contractors. Federal could subpoena, but they won’t subpoena without grounds for a warrant.”
Dane spoke. “We watch it then.”
“We can do a daylight pass. Two vehicles.”
“We tail if something moves?”
“From a distance only,” Eamon said. “If we confirm a vehicle and a destination, we can hand that over to federal.”
“And if nothing moves?”
“We sit on it until dark. We assume Maria is watching the clock. She’ll have thirty-eight hours at that point.”
“She’ll move today.”
“That’s my read,” Eamon said.
“We’re on it,” Dane answered for us.
“Collins is at the carriage house,” he said. “Driver for the second vehicle and will meet you at the Mt. Auburn Mobil at nine-thirty.”
Eamon placed both his hands flat on the table. “Vega will cover here. Reed is at the door, and I’ll stay.”
“Three professionals on four principals,” Dane said.
“You’ll sleep when?” I asked.
“When the magistrate signs the warrant tonight.”
Dane looked at me. “You’re driving.”
“Why?”
“Because if I drive, I’ll run the block twice before I commit. We don’t have the time.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped you.”
“I know. That’s why you’re driving.”
Dane went upstairs to change. Eamon pulled a satellite image from the portfolio and laid it next to the property record. The unit was circled in red.
“There’s a treeline on the east side. Clear sightlines to the unit’s roll-up from about a hundred feet. Brush gives you cover from the access road.”
“You drove it?”
“At five this morning. I needed to see it before I sent you in.”
“Thank you.”
Eamon stood. “Get me a vehicle and an address by four. Magistrate-signable package by ten.”
I went upstairs to change.
Dane was in the back bedroom we’d been using for our sleeping shifts, pulling a charcoal henley over his head. His sidearm was already at the small of his back. Hey had a grey field jacket lying across the foot of the bed.
I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. Dane pulled the field jacket on and shrugged the collar straight. He stepped between my knees and ran his thumb along my jaw.
I closed my eyes for the length of one breath.
“Let’s save it,” Dane said. “Let’s save it for after.”
“After what?”
“After we have a vehicle and an address.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we’ll save it for tomorrow.”
***
Collins was already at the Mobil when we pulled in, parked at the far edge of the lot in a navy SUV with municipal plates.
I’d taken Storrow west out of Cambridge at a steady five over. The radio was on low, a Bruins recap from the previous night’s loss to Tampa.
It was nine-thirty-one a.m. Collins’s wadded Dunkin’ bag from two days ago was still in the cup holder. The cab smelled like my cherry vanilla cologne I’d put on in the bedroom and the gun oil on Dane’s sidearm.
I pulled in two spaces from Collins and killed the engine.
I’d been considering speaking out for the entire drive. I looked at Dane.
“I’m going to say something. Just so you know it’s coming.”
“Now?”
“Today.”
He exhaled. “Okay.”
I reached across the console and rested two fingers against the back of Dane’s hand where it sat on his thigh. His skin was warm. He didn’t move.
Collins got out and walked over. He wore a charcoal coat, collar up, hair pulled back, and gloves on.
Dane rolled his window down.
“Drove past the unit ten minutes ago,” Collins said. “Roll-up’s closed. Gray Toyota Corolla parked thirty feet from the unit, occupied. It could be surveillance, or it could be a guy waiting for his wife.”
“Let’s go,” I said.
It was nine minutes from the Mobil to the Pleasant Street complex. We took surface streets. I drove at five under, only using the turn signal when it mattered. A salt truck passed us, spraying slush on the windshield.
I took the next turn and slowed down.
Collins was on the comm. “East tree line in a hundred yards. Gap in the brush about twenty feet ahead of where I’m parking.”
I pulled into a gravel verge along the back of a closed pizza place and killed the engine. It was nine-fifty-one.
Dane answered Collins, “In position.”
I handed Dane binoculars. He lifted them and adjusted the focus.
“Corolla’s not Maria’s,” Dane said after thirty seconds. “He’s on a continuous call. The body language is wrong. He’s relaxed, not scanning.”
He lowered the binoculars. I had my hands on the lower curve of the wheel and my eyes on the courtyard. Two hours of nothing was the most likely outcome, sitting in the vehicle watching a closed door.