Chapter 19
“Someone got in and gained access at an admin level,” Isabella said.
“They were able to reassign biometrics. They tried to cover their tracks, and they did a pretty good job of it, but they left breadcrumbs. I hacked into the system. It looks like somebody left a vulnerability open for the thieves. That was done under James’s login credentials. ”
My brow knitted with confusion for a moment.
Then it all made sense. “James was the inside man. He fired at one of the assailants, but missed to make it look like he was resisting. They returned fire and either hit him on purpose or on accident. I’m beginning to think they hit him on purpose to cut the trail. He was a loose end.”
“Possible. Or somebody just stole his login credentials,” Isabella said. “But he did make several phone calls to a burner phone. I’m trying to see if I can tie that burner phone to anyone, but it only pops up on the grid at public locations. I’ll keep you posted.”
I thanked her for the information and ended the call, then filled JD in on the situation.
After we ate, we left Diver Down and set out to find Shane. I really didn't want to connect him to this, but that sinking feeling in my stomach told me I was on the right track—that voice that speaks the truth. The one you never want to listen to, but know you should.
I ran Wade's address from the online portal, then we said our goodbyes to Teagan. We left the bar, and hurried across the lot to the Porsche. Jack slid behind the wheel, fired up the engine, and we pulled out of the lot.
Wade lived in a small poured concrete house on Dawson Street. It wasn't much to speak of, but everything in Coconut Key was pricey, even the shit boxes. It looked like he was renting the place, according to the tax records.
The yard was surrounded by a chain-link fence, and two palm trees stood guard over the property.
Jack pulled to the curb a few doors down, and we surveilled the house. There were two cars parked out front.
With a voice full of doubt, Jack said, "And what exactly are we hoping to accomplish?"
I shrugged. "We sit on them for a while, see where they go, what they do. Maybe they're plotting another heist."
"Or maybe they had nothing to do with the Vault.”
“Look, I don’t want to believe it either.”
Through the online portal, I ran the plates of the two cars parked in front of the house.
One of them belonged to Wade, the other to Garrett Townsend.
I ran Garrett's background. He was a three-time loser—assault and battery, burglary, armed robbery. He caught a lucky break on the first two. The charges were dismissed. He pled the armed robbery down and served eight years. He’d been back out on the streets for five and had stayed out of trouble.
And by stayed out of trouble, I mean he hadn’t gotten caught. Yet.
Garrett was big and a little tubby. 6’1”, 230 pounds. From his mug shot, he had a slick head, a square jaw with a heavy shadow, and dull brown soulless eyes. Garrett looked dumb as a stump, but he had fists like cinderblocks and wasn't afraid to use them.
I showed JD his mug shot.
"Well, he looks friendly," he said dryly.
"These guys are up to no good. I'm telling you."
I called Isabella and had her pinpoint the cell phones that were in the house. I asked her to keep tabs on them and let me know where they went.
After a few keystrokes, Isabella said, "I’ve got bad news for you. The only cell phone that pinged the tower from that house right now belongs to Wade Dalton. If anybody else does have a cell phone, they’re smart enough to keep it turned off.”
Once you turned on a burner phone at your residence, it could be linked to you. Every cell phone has a unique identifier, an MSN—a mobile subscriber number. Phones typically connect to towers at regular intervals, whether you're using the phone or not.
The fact that these guys were smart enough to turn their burner phones off whenever they got near a residence told me they were up to no good. Why else go to the trouble?
We sat there for a couple of hours, bored out of our minds, watching the house. This kind of work was never fun, especially when it was a friend.
"I don't know about you, but I gotta go to the bathroom," Jack said.
He fired up the engine, put it into gear, and drove away from the curb. He was never much on stakeouts.
I watched the house as we passed by.
I had asked Isabella to let me know when Wade went on the move. I hoped he wasn't involved in any of this. But something told me he was just as complicit as the others. The brains behind the hacking.
We pulled into a gas station with a quick mart. I filled up the tank while JD did his business.
He came out a few minutes later with a couple of bottles of water. We hopped into the car and drove back to the marina at Diver Down. We hopped out and strolled back to the Avventura. I took Buddy for a walk.
When I returned, Jack and I entertained thoughts about dinner.
The guys had done a good job cleaning up the boat after the party. It was virtually spotless. They had all gone on about their day.
We cleaned ourselves up and went up to Oyster Avenue to have dinner at Indigo.
It was one of those contemporary surf-and-turf places full of style.
Dim blue backlighting lit the walls, giving an immersive, undersea feel.
The decor was elegant and formal. Jacket required.
We were a little underdressed, but the badge got us a table.
A delightful waitress took our order.
Jack opted for the butter-poached lobster, and I went with the seared scallops and medallions of beef.
“You really think Shane’s behind the heist?” JD said.
“I’m almost certain.”
“What about Cody?” Jack said, playing devil’s advocate. “New guy. Made the call. Numerous calls to a burner.”
“Look, I don’t want to think Shane’s doing this any more than you do.”
We chowed down when our entrees arrived, and the food did not disappoint.
Jack's phone buzzed with a text from Crash as we finished. [Where's the party?]
[We're going to Jellyfish after we eat.]
[Sounds like a plan. We'll see you there.]
We finished up at Indigo, and Jack picked up the tab.
From there, we strolled down the avenue to Jellyfish.
The dim club had plenty of cozy couches to get lost in.
Subdued lighting in the form of the namesake hung from the ceiling, casting soft light.
The bar was illuminated by colored LED backlights.
It was early, and the crowd thin. That would change soon enough. It was fine by me. It was quiet, and you could hear yourself think at this hour.
Jellyfish was always good for tight skirts, long legs, and high heels. The drinks were pricey, but the trendy club was always an adventure.
I got a text from Isabella. [Wade is Oscar Mike.]
[Let me know where they land.]
JD and I ambled up to the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender poured the whiskey, and we kicked back and relaxed as the club began to fill up.
It was about 15 minutes later when two beauties entered and sauntered in our direction. I nudged JD and pointed them out.
"Here comes trouble."