IT WAS THE SAME WOMAN. Up close, she was around thirty, with straight blond hair that fell to her shoulders, an athletic build, and resolute, focused, intelligent features. She shut the door, clicked on the light, and moved over to a desk by the window. She sat down, opened the desk drawer after unlocking it, and pulled out some files.
As she sat at her desk she was intently focused on the documents in front of her. So much so that she didn’t notice it at first. The sound, that is. Or sounds.
But the collective noises outside finally made her glance that way. She stiffened and then, as the sounds became more recognizable, she relaxed. She was about to turn back when the woman tensed again as she looked at the window. Now it wasn’t simply the noise that had jarred her. It was something else far more tangible. Literally staring her in the face. Her hand immediately went to the phone on the desk. She had barely picked up the receiver when she collapsed forward.
Robie stood next to her, having come out from his hiding place behind the flags. He had on a small gas mask and was holding a bottle in his hand. The knockout spray had an amnesiac component to it. When she woke up she would remember nothing. He glanced at the window. She had no doubt seen that the blinds had been fully lowered. She might have been in the office earlier and could have even been the one to raise the blinds. She had probably been about to call security when Robie had stopped her. He darted to the window, edged the blinds aside, and peered out. There definitely appeared to be more activity out there. The sounds had lessened somewhat, but they were still there.
He waited three beats for the noises to move away and then took his opportunity to escape.
Outside he reversed his course and made his way to the inner security fence. Before he got there he heard the sound above and looked up. Maybe that was the source of all the ruckus going on here.
The small jet was coming in for a landing on the runway that ran east to west behind the buildings that constituted the Air Force station. The landing gear hit the asphalt and the pilots applied the brakes along with the thrust reversers, and the small jet rolled to a stop. As it did so, several people hurried over to the plane and a golf cart drove up and parked next to the aircraft.
Someone of importance was clearly arriving.
For Robie, the temptation to see who was getting off the ride was too strong, overriding his good sense. But in Robie’s line of work one’s personal safety was not paramount. His focus was mission-centric. He had come to gather intel, and this alone might be well worth the clandestine visit. In fact, this might be just as important as what he had found in the file cabinet.
He reversed course and edged along the side of a building, until he gained a sight line to the runway as the plane’s airstairs came down. Robie moved closer still as a few moments later the passengers began to deplane.
The first person off was a tall man around fifty with broad shoulders. He was not in uniform but rather in a trim, dark suit with no tie. The second person off was a woman, also around fifty, dressed in a gray pantsuit. She clutched a soft-sided leather briefcase. The last person off was another woman, younger, dressed in a dark skirt with a matching jacket. She was checking something on her phone.
Robie watched all of this and even managed to snap pictures using the camera built into his optics. He followed their movements as they walked over and climbed into the golf cart. As soon as they were in their seats, the vehicle zipped off. Robie took some more pictures before the cart turned and disappeared between two buildings.
The next moment Robie was off and running.
Because it was clear to him now that they did indeed have dogs here. And they had picked up on his presence.
As he ran he took three items from his pocket and tossed them behind him in a triangle-shaped pattern, each about five feet apart from the other.
He glanced back; the beasts were running free. Luckily their handlers were nowhere in sight because while Robie had a chance with the canines, he had no chance against a fired bullet. There were two of them: one a German shepherd that looked big enough and vicious enough to rip his arm off, the other a smaller Rottweiler who looked even meaner. Robie had it on good authority that the surprises he had left behind would do the trick and that even the best trained dogs would not be able to resist, even when in full chase mode. He hoped the authority was really that good.
Both dogs skidded to a halt and attacked what he had left behind. As soon as they took a bite of what he had dropped, they wobbled and fell over. They would be super attack dogs again, but only long after Robie was gone.
He scaled the fence twice as fast as he had coming in and successfully avoided the pressure plates.
The fired round came out of nowhere and hit him on the lower right side of his back. The plate absorbed the kinetic energy and flung it across the face of the vest. Robie wasn’t dead, but he felt like he’d been kicked by a seriously pissed-off thousand-pound mule.
The second fence was climbed even faster than the first. He dropped onto the other side as the searchlight began its sweep and alarms blared throughout the complex.
He immediately hoofed it into the darkness.
But then his life got even more complicated.
Will Robie would have expected nothing less.
THE CHOPPER LIFTED OFF a helipad and swiftly moved west, hot on the trail of the intruder. A searchlight sparked to life on the starboard side of the aircraft. Its beam bore down over the countryside, dramatically illuminating the flat dark land as though it were suddenly aflame.
A few moments later the beam caught and held on its target.
A second later the SUV roared to life and its headlights came on. Before it could drive off, though, the chopper was hovering in front of the vehicle, its .50-caliber nose cannon pointed right at the windshield. One rumble from the weapon, and the SUV would be shredded and the occupant dead in a nonsurvivable field of fire.
Over the PA system the pilot ordered the driver to step out of the vehicle.
The driver did not comply with this order.
The chopper hovered there for another minute while the pilot communicated with the higher-ups on what they wanted done with the situation.
A minute later the chopper landed, and four heavily armed and armored men climbed from it and surrounded the SUV. When their orders to come out were not obeyed, they were about to force the issue when the SUV horn started blaring loudly. The men took a step back as the driver’s-side window started to come down. Every man pointed his assault rifle at this spot, ready to open fire the moment a weapon appeared.
The glass hit the bottom and stopped. The blaring horn ceased. And the truck’s engine cut off. The men looked at one another before charging forward.
They reached the side of the truck and peered inside. The front seats were empty. The back seats the same. The rear cargo area held nothing.
The curses could be heard over all their collective comm packs when this was relayed back up the chain of command.
* * *
Will Robie kept the throttle on the electric scooter wound as far as it could go, as the little bike, its headlight off, moved nearly silently over the quiet roads. He was already miles away from the site of where he’d parked the truck in which he’d carried the scooter. He’d programmed in the truck starting, horn blaring, lights coming on, window coming down, and engine cutting off, then executed all of those commands through his phone app. He had watched the chopper and strike team approach the vehicle through a camera built into the grille of the truck, with the video feed going directly to his phone.
He veered down a side road and ditched the scooter in an abandoned shed, as prearranged. He drove off in a pickup truck that had been left there for his use after stripping off his gear, underneath which he wore jeans, a corduroy shirt, and boots. A Stetson hat completed his disguise. He could be a local coming home from either a bar or a job.
He made it back to town in three-quarters of the time it had taken him to drive out.
He parked the truck behind the hotel where Decker and Jamison were staying.
* * *
Decker was sound asleep in his bed when he heard a slight noise that made him sit up.
“Piece of advice: You might want to become a lighter sleeper.”
Decker clicked on the nightstand light and looked over at Robie sitting in a chair with a placid expression.
Robie held up his phone. “I just sent you some documents and pictures. I’m here to provide context.”
“What do the pictures and docs concern?”
“Ben Purdy, who used to work at London AFS.”
“Used to. When did he leave?”
“Around the time they transitioned to Vector.”
“Where is he now?”
“Don’t know. And his papers don’t say. That’s a puzzler because they would normally list what his next deployment was. The files I looked at for other personnel all did.”
Decker picked up the phone off the nightstand and opened the email. He took a minute to scan down the pages that Robie had photographed.
“How’d you get these?”
Robie just looked at him.
“Do they know someone was there tonight?” asked Decker.
This comment drew a look of respect from Robie.
“Or was it clean?” added Decker.
“My exit was not as clean as I would have liked. But they won’t know what my area of interest was, that I can guarantee.”
“That’s good to know.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Show the picture to someone to make sure it’s the right guy.”
“We don’t need you showing this picture all around.”
“I’m only going to show it to one guy. A person I trust implicitly.”
“I hope your trust is well placed.”
“It is. That I can guarantee you.”
“And if it is the right guy?” asked Robie.
“Then we need to track down this Ben Purdy.”
“And if you can’t?”
Decker looked at him. “Why would that be a problem? Even if his current assignment wasn’t in the file. He’s in the Air Force, not in hiding.”
“He was in the Air Force. We don’t know if he still is. And if you find him he may not talk. For a number of reasons,” he added grimly.
“You think it goes that deep?”
Robie ran his fingers along the chair’s armrest. “FYI, I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“That’s also good to know.”
“Anything else?”
“When I asked you about Irene Cramer, you hung up on me. Why?”
“I had nothing to contribute to that discussion.”
“You have a funny way of not answering questions.”
“Goes with the territory I call home.”
“I can deal with half-assed answers and even outright lies, because pretty much everybody lies to me at some point. But to solve the case, I have to get to the truth. And FYI, I will.”
Robie eyed the phone. “Those are the facts. Do with them what you think is best.” He rose from the chair, a bit stiffly.
This was not missed by Decker. “I take it the nonclean exit was also painful?”
“They almost always are.”
Robie was at the door when Decker said, “I know getting this wasn’t easy. Thanks.”
Robie turned back long enough to say, “It’s my job. Now do yours.”
THAT’S THE GUY,” said Baker.
He, Decker, and Jamison were having coffee the next morning at a café down the street from their hotel. Decker had shown him the picture of Ben Purdy that Robie had sent him.
“You’re sure?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s him. He still around? Haven’t seen him since that night.”
“All the military guys are gone except for the man who runs the place, Colonel Sumter. The rest are private contractors.”
Baker shook his head. “Never liked those guys. They were paid three times what us grunts got and did a quarter of the work we did.” He eyed Decker. “Where’d you get that picture?”
Jamison glanced at her partner. Decker had already told her about the encounter with Robie.
“Just good, old-fashioned police work, Stan,” said Decker, taking his phone with the photo on it back as Jamison hiked her eyebrows at this comment.
“If he’s gone, how are you gonna talk to him?”
“Have to think of a way. Did he say anything else to you? Talk about his family? Friends? Anything that might help us track him down?”
“Well, he said his family was from Montana. Just over the border.”
Decker sat up. “Did he mention a town?”
“No. Just that it was small and rural. I guess most of Montana is rural.” He checked his watch. “I got to get going. I’m normally at work by now, but we had some repairs to make and we don’t start staging for another two hours.”
“Thanks, Stan, see you later.”
“Hey, um, Caroline wanted me to ask if you two wanted to join us for dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” said Decker. “I don’t—”
But Jamison interjected, “That would be great, Stan.”
Baker grinned. “I’ll email you with the details. You’ll love the restaurant. It’s a pretty special place.”
Before they could comment on this, Baker hurried off.
Decker whirled on Jamison, who put up her hand.
“He’s your brother-in-law.”
“Soon to be ex.”
“Is he your friend? Do you like him?”
“Well, yes. He’s a nice guy, solid as a rock.”
“And didn’t you two just fight off a bunch of guys together?”
“Well, yeah.”
“The point is, he invited us to dinner. We should accept. At the very least we might learn something that could be helpful.”
Decker fingered his coffee, looking uncertain.
“What?” she said.
“If you want the truth, I guess I’m pissed that he seems so happy. Without my sister. I know that’s stupid and petty, but . . .”
Jamison put a hand on his shoulder. “And it’s also normal to feel that way after something like this happens to a family member. But you have to let it go. It’s his life to live, not yours. Don’t judge him, Decker, just support him. Like you just said, he’s a good guy.”
He refocused and said, “If Purdy’s family lives in Montana just over the border we should be able to find them.”
“It’s a long border, Decker. What about Robie? Could he help?”
“He got us the photo and the name. He did his job. His forte is not running stuff down in a database or interviewing witnesses. We should be able to do that.”
“In a normal case, yes. But this is apparently not a normal case.”
Decker thought about this for a long moment, took out his phone, and punched in a number.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“A professional colleague . . . Hello, Bernie, it’s Amos Decker. Yeah, it has been a long time. Yeah, still doing PI. Look, I’m on a job for a client who’s trying to track a deadbeat dad. Name’s Ben Purdy. He’s in the Air Force, but I think he might be AWOL, so he’s got bigger problems than alimony and child support. We tried to garnish, but the guy’s gone all cash and the military’s not been very helpful. Right, I know. Same old story. Now we got a lead on some of his family being in Montana, near the North Dakota border. I remember you know a guy out that way who was pretty good. Any chance you dial him up and get some intel for me on Purdy and his family? An address for them because I happen to be out that way?” Decker paused and listened. “Yeah, that’s right, that’ll work. Give him my number so you don’t have to be caught in the middle. Right, thanks, Bernie. Beers on me next time and I’ll cover the guy’s hourly.”
He clicked off and looked at Jamison. She stared back at him incredulously.
“You just called in a favor from, what, your private PI boys’ club? I thought that only happened in the movies.”
“Bernie Hoffman used to be a homicide detective in Cincinnati. We got to know and trust each other working some joint cases. About the time I went private so did he. We helped each other back then, too. I remembered he had a really good guy in South Dakota. Bernie will put him on the case and we’ll see what pops. And it’s not a favor. I’m paying the guy.”
When she kept staring at him, he said, “What?”
“Well, you handled that so deftly over the phone. I mean, you weren’t, um . . .” Her voice trailed off and she looked a little embarrassed.
“I get tongue-tied in social situations, Alex. Put me in the middle of a dinner, or a party or anything like that, I’m not your guy for eloquence or even stringing a few words together. But when it comes to what I do for a living, I don’t have that problem. I thought you would have remembered that from our first few encounters back in Ohio.”
She smiled, shamefaced. “You’re right about that. Okay. So what do you think Purdy meant when he said they were all sitting on a time bomb here?”
“He could have been speaking metaphorically. Or literally.”
“The latter gives me the chills.”
“Robie got the photo by breaking into the military facility.”
A wide-eyed Jamison said, “You didn’t tell me that part. Did he actually say that?”
“He didn’t have to. But it was a close call for the guy, and he strikes me as the sort who can pretty much go where he wants. So the security there must be tough.”
“Well, it is a secret government facility,” said Jamison.
“Yeah, I just wonder what the secret is.”
“What do you mean?”
In response Decker brought up some photos on his phone. “Robie didn’t tell me about these. I guess he thought the photos would speak for themselves, and they sort of do.”
He showed Jamison shots of the men on the gurney being taken to the ambulance, and the man and two women getting off the jet.
“I wonder who they are,” said Jamison. “And I wonder what happened to the men on the gurneys? Sumter said the place was really safe. No accidents.”
“Well, maybe what happened to them was no accident,” replied Decker.