Chapter Thirty-Five
Gabriel
Saturday Night
“You’re close, Pensky,” Gabriel said into the phone on his desk set to speaker.
“If this is correct, you’re right around the corner.
” He sat in his office with the lights out, a satellite map open on his computer, and the conference call open.
“Can you go to that address? I’ll stay on the phone.
If it’s the wrong place, then I need to keep working on this. ”
A phone call buzzed, Sloane.
He was afraid if he didn’t answer, she’d keep ringing.
“Gabriel Atworth,” he said, letting the other call go on hold.
“It’s Sloane, Sommer’s sister. What’s happening?”
“I don’t have an update. Marna and Abbie are in the hospital with their illness.”
“No,” Sloane shouted. “Sommer.”
“She called you last night. She’s fine.”
“No, she’s not.”
“She is. Sloane, I left her off at her house an hour ago.”
“She’s not answering her phone.”
“She’s probably asleep or soaking in the tub. Or maybe she’s outside?”
“No. Gabriel, something's terribly wrong.”
“I’m at work,” Gabriel started to catch the panic from Sloane’s voice. “If you’re worried, you could maybe go over.”
“My husband has the SUV with the car seats, and I have the kids.”
“Sloane, you’re probably picking up on Sommer worrying about her friends. Or that she’s remembering some of the harrowing things she went through. You did great. You got help heading her way. You’re the reason everyone is safely off the mountain. This is the aftershock.”
“Do you think?”
Did he?
Not really.
“I’d try calling her again in an hour or so.” It was lame. What he wanted to do was jump in his car and check on her because Sloane had proven to have a connection.
“Okay. Sorry. Thank you. Good luck at work.” And she hung up.
She didn’t sound any more convinced than he was.
He tapped back to his other conversation. “Here.”
“Joint Task Force is still on the line. We’re holding for Pensky.”
“Atworth?” the special agent asked a moment later. “I’m going to show you what I see.”
Gabriel squinted at the feed. “No, that’s not it. Do you see that downspout? Please head that way. There should be a basement window about knee height, about four feet wide.”
Time passed, and Gabriel shifted impatiently in his seat. He wondered if he could go back on hold and try Sommer himself.
“We think we’ve got them. Hold tight.”
Another call came through; Reaper’s name was on the display.
“Finley,” Gabriel said, “I have another call coming in about another mission. I’ll move through it as fast as I can.”
“Copy.”
“Gabriel,” he said.
“Hey, Reaper here. I have Whiskey in my car with me.”
“What do you mean?” Adrenaline buzzed Gabriel’s lips.
“I was heading up the road to your house to leave some food Kate made you with her thanks you went after the women. It was above and beyond.”
“That’s thoughtful. Thank you to Kate. But then you saw Whiskey out on the street?”
And in the seconds that followed, that same sensation of expansion into some righteous power filled Gabriel in the same way it had when Sloane was freaking out in Sommer’s garden, and this whole adventure began.
He pushed to his feet.
“Reaper, she has Whiskey because three of the missing agents were found.”
“That’s what I heard. There’s still one in the wind?”
“That’s why I’m at the office, sitting on hold, waiting for word. They found the agents, but not the kidnappers.” He didn’t want to say this; it was unfathomable to think. “Reaper, I was worried about Kate and the video. You were right about how simple it was to find Sommer’s house.”
“And yours?”
“My house is under the family trust. I use a P.O. Box to keep my address private. I don’t think they could find my house unless they’re running down my past addresses and staking them out. If they were trying to find me, they’d find her first.”
“Where are you going with this?” Reaper’s voice sharpened its edge.
“Two of the special agents, the last two that were captured, are witnesses in the same case where I’m scheduled to testify Tuesday. Without their testimony, and mine, I was told, the case is shaky. The defendant might just walk.”
“Sommer?”
“She wouldn’t let Whiskey out to wander at night, or ever. Not after what we went through, Whiskey, she, and I. Something’s wrong. And that worry you planted about her videos is taking up a lot of space in my imagination.”
“You asked her to take the videos down, though, right?”
“I did. But she’s been backpacking since our conversation.
And you’re aware that we just got off the mountain.
I was going to see all that through tomorrow.
” Gabriel needed to take a beat. “Reaper, I’m stuck here with a life on the line.
Since you’re there in the neighborhood, out of an abundance of caution, could you drive by and see if your danger radar pings? ”
“It’s directly across from the church?”
“The only house on that stretch of road. But if someone’s in the house with her, you can’t let them know you’re there.”
“I’ll handle it. Give me a few, and I’ll be back on the line with you. Out.”
“Atworth. I’m back on the line.”
“Rowan. We haven’t heard anything back. We’re still holding.”
As Gabriel sat there, he tried to imagine scenarios other than that Sommer was with the Prokhorov thugs.
It was a nice night. Maybe Sommer opened her door to let the air in and one of her cats knew how to get out the screen door.
Maybe Whiskey followed. Maybe Sommer was in the woods desperately calling.
Maybe her agitation was what Sloane felt zapping her twins’ antennae.
And Sloane’s call had set his adrenaline flowing.
Did he think the crime family was scrolling social media for dog videos?
“I think that if they put your name in an AI search engine,” Gabriel told himself. “Daniel’s obituary will come up, your finding the children will come up, and the tags on the social media will come up.” He picked up his pen and tapped it nervously on his desk.
He desperately wanted Pensky to get on the damned line and tell him that he had assessed the location properly so he could get in his car and get to Sommer.
And yet, the minutes ticked.
Finally, he heard. “Pensky here. Atworth, the place checks out. You pinned it properly. It’s been abandoned. Our guy was here. They moved him on.”
“Do you have anything I can work with?” Gabriel asked.
“Nada. I’d go home and get some sleep. We’ll call if we get a new lead. Out.”
“Atworth here. I’m walking over to Joint Task Force. I have a situation I need to bring to your attention.”
“Prescott. We’ll be here. Out.”
Gabriel walked out of his office and took the hall toward the JTF wing.
It absolutely was not out of the realm of imagination that someone who wanted to find him would make their way to Sommer’s house.
Sommer knew he lived in the neighborhood, but that was that.
Would they hurt her trying to get the information?
Based on what they’d done to the FBI undercover agents, they most assuredly would.
His phone rang with Reaper’s name, and Gabriel smashed his finger onto the screen. “What have you got?”
“Whiskey’s in my car up the road. The lights are on at Sommer’s. I looked in some windows. No one’s downstairs. The front door was unlocked. When I did a sweep—”
The blood drained from Gabriel’s face and he had to stop walking and put his hand on the wall.
He knew it.
He knew what was coming next.
“The kitchen door was kicked in.”
Gabriel forced himself into combat breathing as he switched his gait to a jog.
“There are no signs of struggle. There’s no blood. But this looks like what you were worried about.”
“Shit,” Gabriel spat out.
“I’m laying my money on them taking her to your house.”
“She doesn’t know where I live.”
“Whiskey does, which might explain why I found Whiskey in the street at her stop sign, whimpering. How do you want to play this? The police? The FBI?”
“I’m looping JTF in. Prescott, Finley, and Rowan are here. I’m heading to their office.”
“Slow and steady,” Reaper said. “I don’t disagree with your assessment. If this were Kate, I’d get my team and go.”
“That’ll make four of us.”
“Five with me,” Reaper said. “Six. I’m calling my neighbor, Striker. He’s lead on Iniquus’s Strike Force. He has a new gadget from DARPA he was playing with yesterday. And if he’s still got it at his house, it’ll come in handy.”
“You know what else would be handy?”
“What’s that?” Reaper asked
“Flashbang,” Gabriel said as he twisted the knob on the JTF conference room door. “You know where I live. I’m heading that way.”
The explanation was fast. The action that followed was faster.
Within minutes, the JTF were in the car following Gabriel to his neighborhood.
Gabriel tucked off the road out of view of his house.
The four walked through the woods to join up with Striker and Reaper.
“Striker,” he said and shook Gabriel’s hand.
JTF had worked with Striker before. It was good to have a cohesive group.
“Is this the DARPA machine Reaper mentioned?” Gabriel asked, looking at the screen of dancing stick figures.
“That machine is classified, and I’m barred from taking it into the field,” Striker said. “This is open source. Anyone can access it.”
Prescott leaned in to better see the screen. “What are we looking at?”
“This can see through walls using Wi-Fi, a little like sonar,” Striker said, balancing the device on his knee so everyone could look. “The AI software makes sense of the pings. You can see here we have four figures in the kitchen.”
“This is the stuff of nightmares. A stalker’s dream,” Rowan said. “This has to be illegal.”
“Stand on a street, and you’re in a public space using the public air. What’s to stop you?” Prescott asked.
“Ethics?” Reaper asked.
“You guys are kind of scary with your Mary Poppins bag of spy tricks, you know?” Finley asked.
“Hope so. Look at that. Three guys up and moving,” Striker said. “That must be Sommer in the chair.”
“These are stick figures. How can you tell?” Finley asked.
“Down here are the heart rates.” Striker pointed. “Normal. Normal. Normal. Elevated.”
“She’s freaking out,” Rowan said.
“Rightly so.” Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes off Sommer. “Let’s get her out of there. How are we going to work this?”
“I’m not betting someone’s life on open-source files.
And I’m not throwing flashbang into a room before I understand the threat,” Reaper said.
“I did my reconnaissance the old-fashioned way—I climbed a tree and used my binoculars. I can confirm: three men and a woman. A single pistol that I observed. This guy here has it in his hand”
“Sommer? Is she okay?” Gabriel was razor-focused and champing at the bit.
“She’s upright with no blood.”
“The only goal here,” Gabriel said, “is to get Sommer out of there unharmed. And fast. If we can make the arrests, that’s gravy.”
“You saw the setup. How would you do it, Reaper?” Prescott asked.
“Send Gabriel in,” Reaper said. “He’s the one they want. They’ll be pleased they have their prize and the stress goes down. They have no idea anyone’s on to them.”
“Done,” Gabriel said. “What’s the play once I’m in, Rowan? You work the Eastern Europe desk. What will work with the men inside?”
“Convince them that you’ll cooperate. Let them know that Sommer’s health is the leverage they need to make that cooperation continue.”
Reaper handed Gabriel a vial containing magnetic earpieces so he could hear the team, but during a pat-down or strip search, they wouldn’t find anything. Gabriel dropped them in place.
“Testing. Testing,” Reaper said.
“A little too loud,” Gabriel said.
“Testing.”
That got a thumbs up from Gabriel.
Reaper handed Gabriel a pair of glasses.
“What are these?” Gabriel held up the glasses.
“Camera, so we can see what you’re seeing. And a mic so we can hear what’s happening.”
“If they break them, will they see I’m wired?” Gabriel asked.
“Only if they have a microscope,” Striker said.
“Even if they stomp on the glasses the mic is in the frame, they won’t hurt it,” Reaper said. “We just need to be able to hear.”
“Why would they stomp on my glasses?” Gabriel asked.
“Asserting control, diminishing a prime sense. If they’re really paranoid, they may strip search you,” Rowan said as if he knew the scenario personally.
Gabriel had imagined much more romantic circumstances for getting naked with Sommer in his house. Something other than his dick crawling up inside him, trying to stay out of the fray.
Good times.
“So how are we getting them out without shots fired?” Reaper asked.
“Flashbang,” Finley said. “We brought a supply.”
Gabriel leaned forward and pointed to the screen.
“Okay, potentially, here’s what can happen.
I want Sommer out of the line to be hurt by the flashbang.
This right here is a guest bathroom. There are no windows, so I imagine they’d be fine with Sommer going in there by herself.
It’s barely big enough for one. So, I go home,” Gabriel threw up air quotes.
“I talk to them. If I’m in there, their guard will be down. ”
“And their guns up,” Striker said.
“Potentially,” Gabriel said, then went back to the screen to point out the locations. “But I signal Sommer to go into the bathroom. Break the windows and throw it in the living room, dining room, and kitchen.”
“If they don’t let her go?” Striker asked.
“I can hear you. Give me a countdown, and I’ll throw her on the ground and cover her with my body. Best I can do.”
“We have to do it before they beat the snot out of Gabriel or tie him up,” Rowan said, again with the echo of a past experience in his tone.
“If they’re trying to keep him from testifying, why wouldn’t they just shoot him on sight?” Finley asked. “Serious here. This scenario only works if they want to have a chat with you, Gabriel.”
“They’ll talk to him first. It’s just good form,” Rowan said. “My guess is they’ll want to know the weak points of the case so they can make others go missing or they can lean into it. Then they’ll kill him.”
“Fuck off,” Gabriel said. The strategizing was important to success, but every second Sommer was facing the threat alone was too long.
“Here’s the plan: We try to get Sommer behind a closed door before they damage Gabriel.
JTF takes the three positions and on my count,” Striker said, “they throw the flashbang. Like Gabriel said, he knows it’s coming because he can hear the countdown in his ear.
Reaper will be ready for quick response if required. ”
Reaper pulled a gun from his pocket holster.
“I’ll monitor the technology and manage the mission. We’re from different backgrounds, so I’ll use: ‘On my command. Three. Two. One. Execute. Execute. Execute. Action takes place on the first Execute,” Striker said.
“Got it. I’ll take the back door to the kitchen,” Finley said.
“Dining room,” Rowan called.
“And I’ll take the living room, which is my preference,” Prescott said, “since it’s out of the line of fire, and I have a dinner date planned with my beautiful wife tonight.”
“Well, I don’t want to spoil your dinner plans,” Gabriel said. Then he patted him on the shoulder, stood, and walked toward his car.
This better damned well work.