Next Exit, Dead Ahead

by CW Browning

  The door behind her opened suddenly and Rob swept into the room, coffee in hand.

  “Good morning!” he greeted them both cheerfully as he closed the door. “Glad to see you both here, bright and early.”

  Rob was a funnel of energy in the mornings, fueled by caffeine and sugar, and Stephanie grinned as he dropped a battered notebook and pen on the table. Rob was also old-school, eschewing technology in favor of his own, unique shorthand.

  “Good morning, Rob.” Blake stood again and held out his hand to Rob. His face was creased into an amused grin. “Still carrying around that same, ratty old notebook? We really need to work on that.”

  “Ha!” Rob laughed, grasping his hand. “My ratty old notebook can't be hacked, deleted or infected with worms.”

  “True enough,” Blake admitted and sat back down.

  “You two didn't start without me, did you?” Rob asked, seating himself and glancing at them.

  “Of course not,” Stephanie answered easily.

  “Good.” Rob rubbed his hands together and sat back in his seat. “I wanted you to meet face to face. I know you never got the chance down in Washington.”

  “Small world, really,” Blake said with a smile. “What are the odds of running into each other on different cases?”

  “Slim,” Stephanie agreed with an answering smile.

  “Well, I know you're both short on time, so let's get down to business,” Rob said. “Since your cases do seem to have coincided, it makes it easier to share information. What do you have for us, Blake?”

  “Jenaro Gomez is the Lieutenant and second-in-command for the Casa Reino Cartel, answerable only to the head himself,” Blake said, closing his laptop and sitting back. He picked up his coffee and sipped it. “They call the new head La Cabeza.”

  “Not very original,” Stephanie murmured.

  Blake grinned.

  “Not very, no,” he agreed. “His real name is Martese Salcedo. Jenaro helped place him in his position after the former leader was found dead a few months ago. He was killed in a fire, along with two other cartel heads. We don't know what they were doing together or why, but there was an explosion and all three were killed. Jenaro was the acting head for a time before he managed to install Salcedo as the successor. Now, the Casa Reino Cartel is regrouping and starting to regain some of its lost footing.”

  “And Jenaro picked now to come to New Jersey,” Stephanie murmured. “Why?”

  Blake set his coffee down and opened his laptop again. He pulled up a file and turned the laptop around so Stephanie and Rob could see the picture.

  “I think it has something to do with this man,” he said.

  Stephanie's eyes narrowed on the grainy photo. It was taken in a crowd and the man had his face half-turned toward the camera. Even though the image was clearly taken at a distance, there was no mistaking the identity of the man.

  “Philip Chou?” Stephanie asked, looking at Blake sharply. He was watching her closely.

  “You know him. Good. That means we're on the right track.” Blake turned the laptop around again and sat back in his seat.

  “He's one of my suspects,” Stephanie said. “I've got an agent watching him and I'm going to see him today. What do you know of him?”

  “He ran into Jenaro a few years back,” Blake replied. “From what I've been able to piece together, he was a student at Stanford at the time, doing an internship at an import company. He crossed paths with the Casa Reinos then, and the rumor is he ended up stealing a shipment from them.”

  Stephanie raised an eyebrow and Rob whistled.

  “What kind of shipment?” Stephanie asked.

  “We think it was probably heroine.” Blake shrugged. “Jenaro found out it was Chou that altered the electronic records, but by then, he had already disappeared. I'm working on the theory that Jenaro finally tracked him down here, in New Jersey, and came to settle the debt.”

  “After, what, four years?” Stephanie asked doubtfully.

  “Clearly, you haven't worked with the cartels much,” Blake murmured. “They have long memories, and even deeper roots in revenge. You don't just steal a shipment from them and expect them to forget about it.”

  “And you think that's what brought Jenaro to Jersey.” Rob rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “What's your interest in him?”

  “Jenaro Gomez has been directly involved in the murders of no less than six DEA and two FBI agents,” Blake said calmly. “He's been on our radar for years. Until now, he's avoided coming anywhere near us.”

  “Wonderful,” Stephanie sighed. “And you think Philip Chou is what brought him out now?”

  “Right now, it's my best lead,” Blake answered. “Something not only pulled him away from home during a crucial time in the rebuilding process, but it also pulled him out to where we can reach him. Either he's getting over-confident and sloppy, or he's after something much larger than revenge.”

  “Money,” Stephanie said. She raised her eyes to Blake's. “He's after the money.”

  “What money?”

  “Last year, we got some intel indicating that a radical communist cell was hacking into mainframes and siphoning off billions of dollars from various companies,” Stephanie explained, glancing at Rob. At his nod, she continued, “We were able to track them down to NicTel, an electronics firm that DHS believes is directly funding North Korea. The trail ran cold there, until a few weeks ago. I was approached by Rodrigo Frietas, a man who claimed to be one of the hackers involved. He wanted to exchange information for protection. According to him, they had expanded from public companies to banks, and were working on two of the main banks on the East Coast.”

  “Which banks?” Blake asked.

  “He was killed before he could tell us, but we believe we've identified them. Philip Chou works at New Federal, and Rodrigo worked at One District.”

  “What makes you link Chou to this Rodrigo?”

  “They worked together at a software firm in Arizona run by a man named Lowell Kwan, who currently holds the title of Regional VP in the IT department of One District Bank,” Stephanie told him. “The software firm was doing well when Kwan suddenly up and closed the company. Six months later, all three men turned up in New Jersey, working in the banks IT departments.”

  “That seems like a solid link to me,” Blake muttered. “What happened to Rodrigo?”

  “He started showing up in pieces,” Stephanie answered grimly.

  “I'm sorry?” Blake blinked.

  “First his arm, then his head, then his tongue.” Stephanie picked up her coffee. “We finally found what was left of him yesterday.”

  “That's a classic Cartel calling card,” Blake said, “especially for Jenaro. He likes to send messages with other people's body parts.”

  “That's why I called you,” Rob said. “We ID'd the person we believe left the arm to start the ball rolling. His name is Lorenzo Porras.”

  “Lorenzo?” Blake looked up sharply. “Lorenzo's here too?”

  “What do you know about him?” Stephanie set aside her cold coffee with a grimace.

  “He's Jenaro's cousin by marriage, and he's been rising fast in the Cartel,” Blake replied. “If he's here too, it means Jenaro only brought his most trusted soldiers with him.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning whatever these hackers of yours are doing, it's big enough for the Casa Reinos to want in on it,” Blake answered. “Jenaro coming here alone was suspicious enough, especially with the unrest among the cartels at home, but if he brought his entourage, it's even bigger than I thought.”

  “Of course it is,” Stephanie muttered. “Why is nothing I get involved in easy anymore?”

  Blake grinned and his brown eyes met hers, a glint of pure excitement making them glow.

  “What on earth would you want with easy?” he demanded.

  Stephanie met his gaze and a reluctant smile curved her lips.

  “You're about to find out just how complicated my cases tend to be th
ese days,” she told him bluntly. “Ask me that question again when we're all through here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lowell frowned fiercely as he pressed the disconnect button on his phone. Philip still wasn't picking up his phone. He glanced at his watch and his lips tightened. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning and so far, his day was not going remotely as planned. He had lost track of Angela altogether sometime during the night. When he went to bed, the software still had her car sitting in the mall parking lot that didn't exist, but when he got up this morning, it was gone. Somehow, someone had disabled the software on Angela's end, effectively concealing her from him. The only thing he knew for sure was she hadn't come to work today and her voicemail had a message saying she would be out of the office for the rest of the week. His only recourse was to go back to the dirt road in the woods and see if she was still there.

  Lowell set down his cell phone and glanced up as a co-worker walked by, nodding to him distractedly. Philip was supposed to have emailed him confirmation when the virus was extracted on his end this morning. So far, he hadn't received any such confirmation. Where was he?

  Lowell's eyes shifted involuntarily to his email, still open on his laptop. Then, there was that. The mystery email. It arrived yesterday, sent from a secured, untraceable IP. Glancing around to make sure no one was within view of his cubicle, Lowell clicked on the email again. There was no message, just a screenshot, pasted into the email. It was a picture of a tongue, laying in a blue Tiffany's box.

  He had no doubt whose tongue it was. He was being warned not to talk, as if he would. He spent hours last night trying to back-trace the email, only to come up empty. Whoever sent it was well-versed in the art of concealing their cyber-trail.

  Everything was unraveling, all the careful planning and years of preparation. Rodrigo was dead, his tongue in a box, and now Philip was missing. What the hell was going on?

  Lowell glanced at his watch again and closed his email. They were on a strict time schedule and he had to start the harvesting program no later than four today. That meant he had until three to find out if Philip had extracted his end. If he hadn't, Lowell would have to override the failsafe.

  Standing, he picked up his phone and his keys and turned to leave the cubicle.

  They were running out of time.

  Blake exited the prison from the main door at the front, a frown creasing his face. Stephanie brought him here after their meeting with Rob to show him the infamous Dungeon and maze. She was still inside speaking to one of the uniforms on duty, and Blake shook his head slightly to himself as he descended the steep prison steps. It took some balls to place an arm in plain view in the middle of the day. Only Jenaro would come up with something so flamboyantly gruesome. What the hell was he driving at? Who was he sending a warning to? Lowell? Philip? Someone else?

  Blake paused at the bottom of the steps and turned left to stroll along the brick path. The fact that the prison guide was missing bothered him. He knew Jenaro too well to question where the guide had gone. The only question he had was where they would find her body. Running a hand through his hair absently, Blake paused and turned to look at the busy road in front of the prison. The building sat on a major thoroughfare in the middle of what appeared to be a busy little town. There was rarely a break in the traffic driving by, and pedestrians were milling up and down the street at regular intervals. Behind the prison was the police station, and a few blocks over from that was the new county prison. It was hardly a secluded setting. He turned and looked up at the prison. So, why here? What about this place had captured Jenaro's interest?

  He turned to continue walking along the pathway, still mulling over the questions in his head, when he sensed he was being watched. Glancing at the busy road again, he paused. His eyes narrowed and he stopped, looking across the busy street.

  A woman was on the other side, leaning against a street light. She was dressed all in black and sunglasses concealed most of her face. She had her arms crossed and appeared relaxed as she leaned against the pole watching him. Even from this distance, Blake could sense the dangerous energy surrounding her. They stared at each other for a moment and Blake knew, without a doubt, that he was staring at Michael's mysterious Viper.

  The traffic streaming between them seemed to disappear as Blake studied the assassin his friend had risked so much to save two months ago. She was every bit as intimidating as he would have expected and his lips twitched slightly. Intimidating to everyone except his pit bull, Buddy.

  After studying him for a long moment, Viper raised her hand and touched her forehead briefly in a salute. Blake nodded in acknowledgement just before a public transportation bus rumbled by, blocking his view as it pulled to a stop in front of the prison. The doors opened and a young man ambled off. The bus rumbled forward again and Blake blinked.

  There was no sign of the woman in black anywhere.

  Viper had disappeared.

  “Let me get this straight,” Stephanie said, holding her phone to her ear and pausing in the act of opening her car door. “Jessica Nuñez has disappeared, you can't find any trace of this Lorenzo Porras, we still have no leads on the guide, and now Karl is missing?!”

  “That about sums it up, yeah,” John answered through the phone.

  “What the hell, John!” Stephanie exclaimed, wrenching open the driver's door and getting behind the wheel. “Do you have any good news for me?”

  “Matt found the logs on Rodrigo's PC,” John replied.

  “And?”

  “Rodrigo definitely used Angela's credentials to access the mainframe.”

  “Oh, well, that's a relief,” Stephanie muttered sarcastically. She started the engine and switched to her Bluetooth. “I was waiting for you to say the logs had disappeared too!”

  Hitting the gas, she pulled into traffic and headed away from the prison.

  “Blake thinks he can find Porras and Jenaro,” John said after a few seconds of silence. “If he concentrates on them, we can focus on Philip and Lowell. Have you heard from the agent you have tailing Philip?”

  “Yes.” Stephanie slowed down as she approached a red light. “He left his house this morning and went straight to work. He hasn't left the building since. I'm on my way there now to pay him a surprise visit.”

  “You're going alone?”

  “I don't want to scare him,” Stephanie answered. “I just want to see what we're dealing with there. I want you to find at least one of our missing persons. Do you think you can handle that?”

  “No need to be nasty,” John retorted without heat. “It's not my fault everyone is disappearing on us.”

  “I just don't understand how we're losing all our witnesses!” Stephanie exclaimed, frustration making her voice sharper than she intended. “What's going on?!”

  “A Cartel is in town, that's what's going on,” John muttered. “If I thought there was a chance my head would end up on a bamboo spike, I'd run too.”

  “According to Blake, that chance is pretty high for both of us,” Stephanie told him. “Jenaro doesn't care for law enforcement of any kind, and apparently he has a particular hatred for Federal law enforcement.”

  “He won't try it on US soil,” John scoffed. “Even he can't be that ballsy.”

  “I wouldn't take bets on it, if I were you.” Stephanie pulled onto the highway and accelerated. “He walked into a disused prison in the cops' backyard and deposited multiple body parts. Something tells me he's not worried about playing it safe.”

  “You think he's behind our missing persons?”

  “I wouldn't be surprised. Without them, we have nothing, and he knows that,” Stephanie said. “We need to find them. You concentrate on that and I'll see where I can get with Philip Chou.”

  “You got it. What about Angela?” John asked.

  “Lina is taking care of her,” Stephanie answered. “She ran the plates on the mystery car this morning and texted me. It belongs to Kwan, but we already suspected that. Frankly,
Angie is the least of my worries right now. Out of everyone, she's the safest.”

  “Are you going to talk to the Black Widow about the Cartel? Or are we just going to ignore the fact that she knew they were in town?”

  “Oh, I'll get to her, don't worry,” Stephanie said grimly.

  “Do you think she's somehow involved with the search for Jenaro?” John asked.

  “I don't know,” Stephanie replied, shaking her head slightly. “It's possible, but I don't think Jenaro is her typical mark. I think it's probably more likely that she knows more about this Moon character.”

  John whistled softly.

  “I hadn't thought of that,” he admitted. “If Jin Seung Moon is a terrorist for North Korea, then he'd be right up her alley of...expertise.”

  “Exactly. Rob's already warned me to go carefully where Moon is concerned,” Stephanie told him. “If we come across any evidence Moon is behind our hacking ring, we have to notify him immediately. He's afraid of the international ramifications if we mishandle him.”

  “If Alina is after Moon, I don't think we'll have much of a chance to mishandle anything,” John retorted.

  “Trust me, I already thought of that,” Stephanie replied. “If she's after Moon, we've got an even bigger problem on our hands.”

  Michael picked up his phone when it started ringing and glanced into the dining room where Angela was busy on her laptop. She had her Bluetooth hooked into her ear, listening to a conference call as she worked on a spreadsheet. He had to admit that she was a hard worker. She had been at the laptop for three hours now, on and off the phone, working constantly.

  “Hello?”

  “How's Brooklyn?” Blake asked.

  Michael turned his attention back to his own laptop.

  “I don't know. I haven't made it back up yet,” he answered. “How do you like Jersey?”