Chapter 30
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Houston
Flint stepped off the private elevator one floor below the top of Shaw Tower into a short vestibule. After a quick trip to the emergency room, which he’d agreed to under pressure from the paramedics when he climbed out of the SUV’s rear window at the safe house, he’d slept a few hours.
Every joint felt stiff, but the blast didn’t break anything. A deep ache had settled in his neck, shoulders, and the long muscles of his back. He’d work it out with normal movement. But his hearing hadn’t reset yet. Sounds were still muffled.
He strode across the granite floor to Black Haven’s highly polished steel door and pressed his thumb to the reader. The lock released. He stepped through and held the door for the others. The door sucked closed and the lock engaged behind them.
Flint chose Black Haven because they needed security and it was impenetrable.
Sebastian Shaw was the richest man in Texas.
He’d built Black Haven into the core of his namesake tower sparing no expense.
The reinforced eighty-story building wrapped around Black Haven protecting it from all threats and every direction.
The operators they faced were trained, clever, well provisioned, well connected, and ruthless. Until he knew exactly who was behind everything, he needed Black Haven’s total security.
Scarlett had been to Black Haven before, too. Shaw was one of her clients. She knew its attributes as well as he did. Maybe better.
She crossed to the far end and stood facing the monitors. The cut along her jaw had a butterfly strip on it now, brown at the edges. She pushed a button and one of the screens went live.
Gaspar was there waiting from his office in Miami.
Patterson lowered himself into a chair. The blast had left him sore and tired, too. Drake took the seat nearest the door, as usual. If he suffered, he didn’t show it.
Flint said, “Gaspar, start us off.”
“Two things. Start with the burner phone in Oakley’s backpack, the same one Oakley used to call Scarlett the night Patterson showed up at Flint’s home.” Gaspar said.
Scarlett said, “What about it?”
“Oakley activated it a few weeks ago, south of El Paso, right after she crossed the border. After that, the network logged where it was whenever it was powered on. We all know that’s how cell phones work.” Gaspar pulled up a screen with a map of Texas showing several red dots.
“The phone pinged in El Paso while she worked at Beto’s bar.
It also pinged in Langford, near Nancy Keane’s home,” Gaspar continued naming the dots.
“It pinged in Houston the day the messenger delivered the USB to Scarlett, and at the Lazy M a couple of days later. It pinged again in Houston when Oakley was at the safe house. Every place you know she went, the phone confirms she was there.”
“So the phone matches and confirms those parts of her story,” Scarlett said with a nod. “Good to know.”
“Anything we don’t already know about her movements?” Drake asked.
“There are other pings I can’t locate specifically,” Gaspar said. “Outside El Paso, and also between Langford and Houston. Small town rural towers cover wider areas, so the locations are less precise.”
Patterson said, “And the people hunting Oakley can do the same trace, right?”
“Count on it. They likely had her burner number, which means they have everything I found and maybe more,” Gaspar said.
“Safest to assume they’ve been tracing her long before we started,” Flint added.
“Where is she now?” Scarlett said.
“That’s the second piece of bad news. The phone is still on. It’s been sitting in one spot since the night the safe house came down,” Gaspar replied. “No movement. Not even the small drift you get when a phone’s in someone’s pocket. It’s been set down or dropped.”
“You know exactly where?” Patterson asked.
“I do. The phone has been pinging three different towers the whole time. I pulled the GPS location. It’s accurate to within a few yards.”
“Got an address?” Drake wanted to know. He was more familiar with that area than Patterson or Gaspar.
“A motel off the interstate, west of Houston. Room twelve, or close to it,” Gaspar put up a new dot for clarity.
“Is Oakley there or just the phone?” Patterson asked.
“I can’t tell you that from the signal alone and that’s all I have,” Gaspar replied. “But the phone’s been still for hours. Suggests either she left it and walked away, or she’s in that room and hasn’t moved either. The signal doesn’t distinguish.”
“We need to get out there before she bolts again,” Scarlett said.
“I’m going with you,” Patterson said.
“Hold up. Gaspar’s got something else before you head out,” Flint said. “It’s important.”
Even though Scarlett was itching to go, she waited.
“Second thing. I have the four handsets Flint left with me.” Gaspar held one up to the camera. It was a black slab, thicker than a phone should be, with no markings on it. “These are satellite phones and not cell phones. They have custom boards and custom firmware.”
Patterson said, “You can buy dozens of phones everywhere. Who builds their own phones?”
“Right. Some of this I already told Flint and Drake. But let me catch everyone up and tell all of you the rest. First, you can’t buy phones like these.
They look standard, but they’re not.” Gaspar set the phone down and displayed the interiors on the screen.
“All four phones connect to one custom, private network. It’s not a commercial service anyone can buy. ”
“So somebody built a private network,” Drake said. “Seems extreme. Networks are everywhere these days. Why build your own?”
“I worked these kinds of cases at the FBI. NSA, the Russians, the Chinese, governments work like that. Whoever built these phones and this network is at that level.”
Drake looked at Flint.
“Got it. All four were made the same way by people with deep expertise and deeper pockets,” Flint said. “What else?”
“From Miami, the connection signal takes a long time to reach the satellite and come back. That means the satellites are not in our hemisphere,” Gaspar explained.
“Also, the internal clock on these is set to a time zone outside the western hemisphere. The traffic lands on the ground outside this hemisphere, too.”
“Which means what?” Patterson asked.
“My best guess is the network those four men were using is located somewhere in Southeast Asia,” Gaspar replied.
Finally, Flint knew where to look. Southeast Asia. Which was only slightly better than saying somewhere on Earth.
“It’s a long way to Southeast Asia,” Scarlett said to Flint and Drake. “You two need to get going. Patterson and I will take Oakley. Even with Gaspar’s sat phones, we’ll need to be careful on comms.”
Before Flint could respond, Gaspar said, “Oakley’s phone signal just stopped. It’s off the network. Two minutes ago.”
“Off how?” Flint asked.
“Three options. Battery drained, someone turned it off or destroyed it. I can’t tell you which from here.”
“That’s our window closing.” Scarlett was already moving for the door. “Keep in touch through Gaspar, if nothing else.”
Patterson followed her out.
“She’s right. We need to get going, too,” Drake said when the door had closed behind them.
Flint replied, “Go pack a bag. Gaspar and I will organize the travel from here. Pick me up at my place.”
After Drake left, he told Gaspar. “We’ll need to make a stop in Czechia on the way.”