Chapter Seventeen #2
“If Jacob Wyst is on the premises, he will be arrested for suspicion of conspiracy to commit mass murder. Of soliciting murder for hire, multiple counts, of payments made for the use of explosive devices against property and persons.
“There’ll be more, but that’s a good start.”
Santiago said, “Whew.”
“I also want the admin Margaret Reynolds detained for questioning. She knows things, and she annoys me. Detectives, keep your badges in plain view, and everyone, keep your recorders on throughout.”
“This is going to land like another bomb exploding,” Baxter commented.
“It needs to. This needs to be systematic, thorough, and smooth. Peabody, you and I along with someone from EDD hit that restricted area first. I want officers on the labs. Nothing gets destroyed or corrupted. Any resistance, attempt to defuse the situation. Resistance continues, arrest.”
“Transpo ready,” Peabody announced. “Twelve additional uniforms assigned to the team.”
“Give Feeney the go.”
She pulled out her signaling ’link, smiled. “Because we just got ours. Move it out. I’ll brief on the way.”
“Jenkinson and Reineke are going to have a big sad for missing this.”
She thought, shit, and yanked open one of Jenkinson’s desk drawers. Ignoring the bag of hot pepper chips, she grabbed a memo cube.
“Full team dispatched to Banner-Wyst building for full search and seize. Arrest warrants also issued for Banner and for Wyst. If and when clear, join.”
She tossed the cube on the desk.
On the way to the garage, she texted Roarke.
Will be late. Taking a team to search and seize B-W, arrest W. Whitney’s heading to Long Island to collar B.
Sounds like fun. Should I join you?
We’ve got two dozen uniforms, six detectives, EDD geeks, and a bunch of forensic drones. We’re good. Home in two or three hours.
I’ll be there, ready to hear the story.
Marriage Rules checked off, she thought, and put her head in the game.
In the garage she had Feeney fit her with an earpiece so she could brief the team members in other vans while they caravanned through the city.
Besides Callendar and McNab, Feeney had three other e-geeks, two men, one woman, all wearing what Eve thought normal people considered costume party outfits.
When they arrived, she had her van, the lead van, pull up to block the exit and entrance to the garage.
Nobody in, nobody out.
The security officer she’d first encountered rushed out.
“Hey, you can’t . . .” When Eve jumped out of the van, she stopped, said, “Hell, what now?”
“Duly authorized search and seize on this building. You’d be smart not to alert anyone inside it.”
“Man, I don’t need this job that much. Jesus, the whole place?”
“The whole place. You, e-person, can you block those elevators from opening to garage levels?”
“That’s cake and ice cream.”
“Good. Everyone knows where to start.”
They spread out, some going in the main, some through the garage. With her team, she took the main lab level.
What she saw made NYPSD’s lab look like some high school chem class.
An army of white-coated people turned. Some of them shouted.
Gretta Dolbey rose from the stool where she’d been working with a scope and a screen.
“Lieutenant Dallas! You can’t—”
“Duly authorized.” She held up the warrant.
“I don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do. No one leaves this area until cleared,” Eve shouted. “No work continues at this time. NYPSD is warranted to confiscate all files, all data, equipment, and devices. Remain in your stations while we do our job.”
She overlooked the chatter, the protests, turned to Dolbey. “The restricted lab. Now.”
“I don’t have access or authorization. I haven’t been able to reach Director O’Brian or Mr. Wyst. I need to know what this is all about.”
“I have authorization, and can get access. Where is it?”
“It’s . . . I’ll show you.”
“Peabody, Feeney, two officers, with me.”
“I don’t know what the hell’s going on, and I’ve about had it with the lack of communication, the evasions, and the—and the bullshit!”
Moving fast, Dolbey headed down a corridor, swiped a door, moved down another. “Two of us are dead, horribly murdered, and I’m placed as acting director. But I can’t get the information and guidance I need to direct.”
She stopped at another door clearly marked RESTRICTED. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
“I don’t know what’s in there, what work’s being done in there, or who’s doing it with both Larry and Ezra dead. I’m told Director O’Brian’s gone out of the country, but no one can tell me where or why. I’m trying to hold my section together, keep my section’s morale up, and now this.”
“Feeney, can you get that door open?”
“It’ll take a few.”
“More than a few, we get the battering ram.”
“Oh my God.”
“Dr. Dolbey, I bet you’re good at what you do.”
“I am, damn it.”
“You might want to think about being good at it in another lab.”
“Nearly there,” Feeney muttered. “They’ve got a triple on it. Got through two, third one’s coming.”
“Do you know if Jacob Wyst is in the building?”
Dobley dragged both hands through her hair. “If he is, he’s not answering my calls, my texts. I went up to his office earlier, and when his assistant said he wasn’t in his office, I got pissy enough, and I’m not proud of taking it out on her, she opened it to show me he wasn’t.”
Dolbey let out a sigh. “It’s pretty clear she’s as in the dark there as I am.”
“Got you!” Feeney straightened, rolled his shoulders. “We’re in.”
“Stick with us,” Eve told Dolbey. “We might need you to explain what we’re looking at.”
“Are you kidding? You couldn’t pry me away now.”
When they went in, it surprised Eve how small a space it was when compared to the others.
It looked efficient, well-equipped, the walls, floors, counters very white, very clean.
Glass-fronted cabinets, sealed, held what she assumed were chemicals, compounds.
Every station—four of them—held its own screen, scope, comp.
“Pick a comp, Feeney, get us in. What do you see, Dr. Dolbey?”
“Gretta, what the hell. I see very spare, very organized, with equipment as good as it gets.” She walked over to the cabinets while Feeney set to work.
“Some of these are toxic, hazardous, dangerous. They’re sealed, yes, but they should be under lock. That’s a single-user decontamination chamber.”
She reached for a door, and when Eve nodded, opened it.
“Washroom, with shower. This tells me that no one is to leave the lab to use other facilities. Use this, into the decontamination chamber, back to work.”
“Got it,” Feeney said. “Not too slippery. I’d say they figured no one they didn’t want in here would get in here, so not too slippery.”
“Let’s see a file up on the main screen.”
“There’s a lot of them and so many look the same but have different dates. Got a red mark beside them.”
“For failure,” Dolbey supplied as Feeney put one on-screen.
Eve saw symbols, equations, terms beyond her understanding.
Dolbey studied and frowned.
“It’s a climatology experiment. That’s not my specific area of expertise.
Which explains why, rumor is, they’re going to bring someone in from Uruguay.
Or Istanbul. Or who the hell knows at this point.
I’m sorry, I’m not sure what they’re attempting here.
It doesn’t make any sense. Climate control?
Manipulation of weather patterns? I’m not entirely sure.