Everyone was pleased about the four men taking the fall for today’s bombings. Very soon they planned to link the same disgraced agents to the drone attack of the Nelson fund-raiser. But that was something that would have to happen organically.
Or at least appear to. The authorities now investigating the allegedly rogue DEA agents would soon find digital evidence tying the men to the theft of the drone. They would appear to have a trail of communications with someone from the military base with access to the drone. Rayford wasn’t exactly sure who; Hillenbrand was keeping that information to himself. From there it would make sense to deduce that they’d either sold it or used it for their own purposes. It would look like one big conspiracy to attack their own country for money and fanaticism.
“I thought they’d never leave,” Hillenbrand muttered as the last of the men exited the house.
Rayford grunted in agreement. “What was our inside man able to discover?” The DEA agent they were using had been doing some behind-the-scenes work for them using his company access. While their hacker was good, hacking in to the DEA might eventually trace back to them.
Something Rayford and Hillenbrand refused to risk. It would ruin the whole illusion of their scapegoats taking the fall.
“Things are still on track,” Hillenbrand said, heading for his minibar. “You headed home?”
Rayford nodded. It had been an exhausting day and while his wife was understanding and not worried that he’d cheat, he wanted things solid in his marriage. He had to look as if he were doing business as usual to everyone. No one could suspect his actions, not even the woman he loved. He was pretty certain she’d lie to cover for him if necessary, but it was better if she never had to in the first place if approached by law enforcement.
“You sure? I’m calling one of my regulars over. I can have her bring a friend.” Hillenbrand raised his glass to his mouth and took a big swig.
Rayford kept his annoyance in check. Hillenbrand knew how he felt about prostitutes and keeping his clean image. He gave a polite smile. “Why don’t you have her bring one for Gary?” he asked, nodding to the hacker who’d fallen asleep on the Chesterfield about half an hour ago.
The man practically had an IV of Red Bull attached to him at all times, so it was a surprise he ever slept. At least he’d showered earlier and cleaned up so he didn’t look or smell as if he were homeless anymore. Hillenbrand had insisted he do so before the other men arrived. Rayford understood why. Looks mattered at this critical juncture and they needed to appear to have the most capable hacker on their side. So far he’d proven to be a huge asset.
Hillenbrand laughed, a real booming one, and shook his head. “It’s hard to trust a man with no vices.”
Rayford picked up his coat and scarf he’d draped over one of the chairs. “You’d prefer I do drugs or have a gambling problem?”
Shaking his head, Hillenbrand had started to respond when a beep-beep-beep rent through the room.
Rayford turned to find Gary popping up from his half-lounged position, his eyes going wide. He gave Rayford and Hillenbrand a glance before he snagged his laptop from where he’d set it directly next to him on a wood-and-glass table.
“What’s happening?” Hillenbrand demanded, putting his drink down and striding over to the hacker.
Feeling chilled, Rayford slid his coat on and moved across the room as well.
“Got a hit on the final Karen Stafford’s cell phone,” Gary murmured, his fingers flying across the keyboard, his expression focused.
Rayford knew that Hillenbrand had gotten the name of the missing woman from his contact at the local PD. She wasn’t considered missing anymore apparently, but they hadn’t been able to track down who she was exactly or where she worked or lived. Gary had found eight Karen Staffords living in the Maryland and D.C. area and eliminated seven of them because of the pictures from their drivers’ licenses. Once they’d matched up the Karen Stafford from the missing person picture Hillenbrand had obtained to a driver’s license, it should have been easy to locate her.
Only it had been impossible because the address on her license was an empty townhome seemingly owned by an offshore company. It was very strange. Especially since she didn’t seem to have any social media accounts.
Who the hell didn’t have social media accounts these days? Rayford had some theories about who she might work for, but it didn’t explain why she’d been listed as missing.
“Where is she?”
“Townhome in Maryland. Good area. Place is owned by . . .” More typing. “A woman named Carline Johnson.” More typing, then, “Definitely not the same woman.” A picture of a pretty black woman in her mid to late twenties popped up on the screen before Gary minimized it. “For all I know the cell phone is bogus and not the Stafford woman’s at all, but this number is linked to the same address as her driver’s license and the bill is in her name. It’s been off until just now. Which is pretty fucking strange. People might turn off their phones, but she had to have taken the battery out for me not to be able to ping it.” Gary stopped typing and looked over at Hillenbrand. “Unless the phone moves, this is the address it’s at. I don’t know if it’s hers or not, or if she’s even there, but it’s a lead.”
Rayford glanced at Hillenbrand, unsure of what they should do. He was so confident in some things, but where this woman was concerned, he wasn’t sure what the right course of action was. She’d been seen with Pankov but had been listed as a missing person until a couple of hours ago. Their contact with the PD had no idea who she was or why she wasn’t considered missing anymore. And their DEA guy had no idea who she was either. What if they went after her and she was still with Pankov? What if she worked for an agency and was helping Pankov and his men? Or what if she was nobody as far as their plans were concerned? There were too many unknown variables at this point, and that made Rayford’s stomach twist.
Hillenbrand pulled out one of his burner cells and typed in a long message. A few seconds later the phone buzzed. Hillenbrand glanced at the screen, gave a feral smile, then nodded to himself before tucking the phone into his pants pocket. He looked at Gary. “Good work. Keep an eye on it. I’m going to walk Rayford out.”
Gary nodded and returned to his computer as Rayford headed for the door with Hillenbrand.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Rayford asked.
“No. You need sleep and there’s nothing more to do now. I’ve got a guy on it. I’ll let you know what turns up. Keep your phone on you.” The “phone” referring to his burner, the one he’d kept private from everyone else in his life.
Rayford nodded and opened the front door. A blast of cold winter air rolled over him, making him shiver despite his thick coat. “Let me know what happens.”
“I will,” Hillenband said before shutting the door.
Exhausted, Rayford glanced down the quiet street as he began making his way to his vehicle. He couldn’t see anyone watching him, but that didn’t mean anything. It didn’t matter how tired he was, he’d make sure to drive around awhile before heading home. To see if he had a tail. They’d all been so careful and now that their operation was in the final critical stages, he had to be even more diligent.
Fear lived inside him that everything would come crashing down on their heads, that he’d lose everything he’d worked so hard for. But no risk, no gain, he reminded himself. And if he wanted his boss in the White House, he had to see this through.
? ? ?
Tucker folded his clothes into his duffel bag and zipped it shut before picking up Karen’s dry clothes. She’d just talked to Selene and they’d be clearing out of here in ten minutes. Before they did Tucker wanted to do a clean of the place, meaning dispose of any evidence they’d been here, especially the food remnants and the condom.