“It’s just overflow physical storage,” Sydney explained. “All the servers are in this building.”
Mei focused on the computer with its cell phone. There was no other reason for a computer like this one, with a cell phone piggybacked and an independent battery source. Someone would be accessing it remotely, trying to break into a network. Unless it wasn’t the police network they were after. “Is the warehouse close to another building?”
“Yeah. Directly beside it.”
“What’s in that building?”
Ryaan glanced at Sydney. “Hal told me yesterday. An accounting office, an architecture firm, a pharmaceutical company, and something else.”
“A law office,” Sydney answered. “Mostly estate clients.” The two women turned to Mei. “Why?”
“Because this computer might have been trying to access the network of one of those businesses.”
“Someone can do that from a computer?”
Mei nodded. “It’s not as hard as you’d think. Companies are really good about protecting themselves from people coming in through their websites, but they often leave their wireless networks way too vulnerable. Where was the computer found?”
“In an old case file.”
“Close to the warehouse’s exterior wall?”
“Right beside it.”
Mei nodded. “Someone is trying to break into one of the businesses. We need to talk to their IT guys.”
“But what about the kid?” Ryaan asked. She waved toward the room where Jacob Monaghan was probably making his thumbs bleed more. “You think he made this thing?”
“No way,” Mei said without hesitation. “He wouldn’t even touch the jammer. He’s not capable of something like this.” She pointed to the image. “We’re dealing with someone who knew how to build an independent battery pack and could jailbreak this phone. Not to mention the kind of programming that has to be working on the computer.”
“Well, that kid got one of the guns, so he’s related somehow,” Ryaan said. “And what about the rest of them?”
Mei shrugged. “Maybe stealing the guns was a distraction and this—” she pointed to the computer “—was what they were really after.”
“A distraction,” Ryaan repeated. “Shit. They stole seventy-two guns. That’s a hell of a distraction.”
“What were they really after?” Sydney asked Mei. “Will you be able to tell from the computer?”
“Not likely. A pro would have a software program to scrub the entire contents of the computer once they were into the network.”
“You think they already got in?”
“The break-in happened Sunday night. Now it’s Tuesday. It’s possible.”
Ryaan rubbed her face. “Well, I hope you can figure out who’s behind this because I need to find out where the rest of those guns are.”
Ryaan’s cell phone rang. “Berry.” She was quiet a moment then she lowered the phone and put it on speaker. “Wyatt, go ahead. We’re here.”
“A homeless man just opened fire at a busload of commuters pulling into the Terminal building. He was carrying two guns. No fatalities, but we’ve got nine injured.”
Mei glanced at her watch. It was already after ten. “Where’s the computer now?” Mei asked.
“It was en route to the lab,” Sydney said. “It might even be there now.”
Mei started down the hallway. “Let’s go.”
“Call me as soon as you find anything,” Ryaan called after them. “I’ve got sixty-nine more guns to find.”
Mei moved quickly down the hall, Sydney beside her. Seventy-two guns stolen. One at a high school, two in a bus terminal. Computer criminals were rarely violent, but it seemed impossible to imagine that there were two separate groups at work. One who had stolen those guns at the same time that the other was trying to hack into the network of—what? An accountant’s office? A pharmaceutical company? No way. Too much coincidence.
Mei was betting that they were dealing with a computer criminal, who was both highly technical but also had an affinity for violence. That was a new combination for her. Criminals tended to focus and specialize. In her experience, a multidepartmental investigation usually involved a fugitive or perhaps drugs. A couple years back, Mei worked a white collar crime where the perp had killed his wife and her sister but never anything like this.
Mei reached the elevator and punched the down button. The phone in her pocket buzzed as the doors opened. She drew it out and saw Andy’s name. She hesitated a moment then sent the call to voicemail and slid the phone back into her pocket.
Sydney was typing on her phone as the two women stepped onto the empty elevator. “I swear I don’t know how these kids are going to survive college if they can’t take a list and manage to come home with groceries.”
“Your kids?” Mei asked. She was antsy and not a fan of the department’s elevators, which were ancient and creaky and frustratingly slow, especially compared to the ones at the FBI.
“I’ve got twins starting at San Francisco State,” Sydney said, pocketing her own phone.
Above the elevator doors, the red light bled from 2 to 1 as the box descended with a series of groaning noises. “An empty nest,” Mei said.
“Hardly,” Sydney said, laughing. “We’ve got a two-and-a half-year-old.”
Mei shifted on her feet in the small space, hoping they wouldn’t have to stop on the department’s main floor. No such luck. The elevator lurched to a halt on one and the bell rang. She was about to say something inane about having college-age kids and a toddler when the doors began to stutter open. From the lobby, Mei heard the unmistakable rat-a-tat of the rapid gunfire of an automatic weapon.
Chapter 8
After a shower, a beer and three hours of sleep, J.T. was on the move again. From the age of thirteen, sleep and J.T. had pretty much parted ways. A mother who drank too much and men of all sorts coming and going required a level of alertness that didn’t mesh well with sleep. The best nights were the ones when J.T.’s mother drank and passed out before dinner. Or the times when J.T. took a blanket and hid in the low cupboards of the garage. But that only worked when the weather was warm.
Alert enough on a few hours of rest, J.T. continued with the plan. The first step had been to transfer the guns into the newer white van. The black van was officially out of commission. It likely would have been anyway as it had been the plan to dispose of both Hank and eventually Sam there before the fire, but Hank had gone a little sooner than expected. Sam had been sleeping when J.T. returned, which was odd as Sam was usually a night owl, but it made things easier too. It meant Sam hadn’t heard the gunshot that killed Hank. Even with a silencer, a gunshot was loud. It also meant Sam wasn’t around to ask a lot of questions while J.T. moved things around. The black van into the far garage, the one Sam couldn’t access. No use letting Sam get wind of Hank’s death. He was only a kid after all. It also meant there was no opportunity to ask Sam about progress, but since he was asleep, there likely hadn’t been much. Another delay. Nothing to get upset about.
Plans were meant to be changed. This J.T. always counted on. Like stepfather number three: Martin Lockston in his fancy suit with his graying temples and his supposedly great job. No more than an abusive drunk with a couple of diplomas. Things changed and people either adjusted or they got trapped as victims. J.T.’s mother was the kind to get trapped, but J.T. was not.
Some of the guns still had a bit of Hank’s blood on them, but not enough to bother cleaning off. Most of the blood ended up on the gloves J.T. had worn to package them. The gloves were just something else to be added to the fire pile.
The white van was utility style and new with solid rear door panels, like the kind small companies used for deliveries. On the outside of the van was a magnet with the FedEx logo, ordered eight months before off a cheap sign place online, delivered to a PO Box that hadn
’t been active since. It certainly wouldn’t fool the FedEx office, but it would be enough for most. That and the dorky navy outfit J.T. wore, which J.T. had stolen from a FedEx facility nearly a year prior.
The rear of the van was filled with special FedEx tubes, meant for thick rolls of architectural plans but large enough to hold many of the guns. The huge MKs and such had to go in a different style box, but J.T. had these as well. It was all about planning. And clean up. These were things J.T. excelled at.
The first three deliveries were done by four a.m. Then, three more before six a.m. It had taken a while before Jacob appeared at the school dumpster. Jacob was an unexpected addition. J.T. had even planted the seed for Jacob, telling him that the school dumpster was a good spot to find yesterday’s leftovers.
J.T. had been that kid in high school, anything to avoid going home to Martin and his faux snakeskin belt. Originally it seemed like a good idea to put those seventy-two guns in seventy-two needy hands, but that was more effort than it was worth. Not to mention more risk. Seven was enough to make the point.
The others could get out there without so much effort, and J.T. had just the person in mind to unload them.
Chapter 9
From somewhere above came the raining ting sound of shattering glass. Sydney Blanchard went down first, sliding into Mei’s legs as she dove for cover. Mei dropped, too, and pressed herself against the cold elevator wall. Another burst of bullets, high-frequency, tinny like an automatic weapon. Then the heavy sound of return fire. Beyond the elevator, two men in suits ran toward the courtrooms while a female patrol officer, gun drawn, went toward the main door. Another shot rang out, and a woman screamed close by. Mei looked to Sydney, but the sound wasn’t from her.
“Help,” came a soft voice. Mei dropped to her knees and darted her head out the elevator doors. A woman knelt outside the elevator. Vaguely familiar, she might have worked in the department.
Another shot rang out over their heads. Mei flinched before reaching her hand out. “Come on.”
The woman looked up, dazed.
“Come on,” Mei repeated more emphatically. Her pulse was like waves filling her ears.
Her face was pale and attractive, her expression tightened up in pain. Mei waved her hand in a rolling motion. “Get on. Hurry.” The woman crawled into the elevator. As soon as she was close enough, Mei pulled her toward the door.
“Sophie,” Sydney said, reaching out to help. “Are you okay?”
The woman didn’t answer but clasped her hands around Mei’s as Mei and Sydney pulled her inside.
As soon as she was over the threshold inside, Mei stood tall on her knees and jabbed at the door close button.
Another shot rang out. The woman flinched against her. Mei put an arm around her, the two of them sharing the tight corner. They watched the doors close. Don’t let him come in. Whoever he is, don’t let him come in. When the doors finally shut, the three women remained as they were, silent. Still pressed to Mei, the woman shivered as the elevator lurched to the basement. When the doors opened, no one moved until they were reassured by the long quiet of the basement hallway.
Sydney was the first to get to her feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
Mei helped the stranger to her feet. Sydney took hold of her arm and gasped. “Sophie, you’re shot.”
Sophie blinked slowly as though she didn’t recognize her own name.
Mei felt her start to fall and reached around to hold her. Sydney took the other side, and together they carried her into the hall. Their offices were down another hallway, so instead of moving her farther, they lowered her to the floor against one of the basement’s yellow walls.
Her breathing was shallow. Her white blouse was stained red on her left side from the bottom of her ribs down. There was a hole in the back.
“Mark is here, too,” Sydney said.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Mei said, sure of nothing of the sort. She pulled her phone out and dialed 9-1-1. “This is Office Ling. We’re in the basement of 950 Bryant, just outside the lab. We have a—” She glanced at the woman’s attire, unsure if she was a detective or an attorney or what? “A woman’s been shot. She’s bleeding.”
“I need to try to reach him.”
Mei nodded.
Sydney seemed to be unsure what to do next.
“Call him,” Mei said, holding her hand over her own phone.
“We have ambulances en route,” the dispatcher said.
Mei watched as Sydney dialed. A moment passed while she said nothing. Then, she lowered the phone, hit another button and lifted it to her ear again.
“Are there any casualties upstairs?” Mei asked dispatch.
“I’m not sure yet, but officers are still searching for the shooter.”
“He got away?” Mei said. How the hell did a shooter get away from a building full of cops? And what kind of crazy person took aim on a police department?
“Don’t hang up,” dispatch said. “I’ll be right back to status that ambulance.”
Sydney looked up and shook her head, a look of panic on her face. “I can’t reach Mark.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“This is when he goes to lunch. He might’ve been on the street outside or coming back.”
Sophie was paler. “Help me get her onto her back,” said Mei as she shrugged out of her jacket and balled it up on the ground. With Sydney’s help, they lowered Sophie onto the makeshift pillow.
Sydney hit send again.
“Sophie,” Mei said. Sophie looked up at her and Mei noticed that straight-on, she looked a bit like Jodi with her hazel eyes and blondish hair. The same small, perky, Anglo-Saxon nose that always made Mei jealous. Her fuller lips. “Can you hear me?”
Sophie nodded. Her eyes fluttered closed.
“Stay awake with me, okay.” Mei took her hand. “Squeeze my hand if you understand.”
Mei felt the squeeze.
Sydney shook her head again.
“Go find him,” Mei told her.
She seemed to be holding her breath. Sydney’s husband, Mark, was an accountant in the finance office, not a police officer. The wives of officers expected this kind of risk, this fear, but not the wives of the administrative officers. What place could be safer than inside these walls? What kind of idiot would open fire in the lobby of the police department? And how had he gotten through the metal detectors?
For a moment, Sydney didn’t move.
“Go,” Mei commanded. “The ambulance is on its way.”
Sydney looked from Mei to Sophie then back again.
“Go,” Mei said again. “Text when you find him.”
Sydney blinked, and her eyes met Mei’s. With a brief nod, she turned and ran for the stairwell.
“Officer,” came the dispatcher.
“Yes. I’m here.”
“Your ambulance is en route. ETA is four minutes.”
“Okay, we’re in the basement.”
“They know. Hold the line.”
Sophie’s eyes closed again. Mei touched the side of her shirt, but the blood stain hadn’t grown much. “You’re doing great.”
Sophie squeezed Mei’s hand again.
Mei studied her face. “Where do I know you from?”
Sophie tried a smile, but it stalled on her lips.
“You work in the department, don’t you?”
Sophie squeezed. Mei wasn’t sure it was appropriate to ask a lot of questions, but maybe it would keep her distracted until the paramedics arrived.
“Finance?”
Two squeezes. “That’s a no, then?”
One squeeze.
“Police officer?”
Two squeezes.
“Detective.”
Another two.
Mei made unsuccessful guesses until she hea
rd the drumming of feet on the stairwell. The metal fire door sailed open and slapped against the wall. Two paramedics set a gurney down and pulled it to full height then jogged it down the corridor.
They were both tall, thin men. One was white-blonde that had to be real because he had the kind of skin that got sunburned in minutes and never tanned. It was now a deep, uncomfortable shade of red. He’d obviously been somewhere other than the city to get that burned. “We’ve got this,” he announced, waving a hand as though to clear her from the area.
Mei hesitated.
The other man was dark-haired with a kind of hooked nose and a thin, small mouth that seemed almost circular. “A little space, please,” he added.
Mei stood and pried her hand from Sophie’s.
They huddled over her. Checking pulse-ox, heart rate, things Mei had seen done a million times on cop shows. This was the first time she’d seen it in person. Then, before she could ask how Sophie was, they’d lifted her on the gurney. “Clear to come up,” the hooked nose asked into the radio.
“All clear,” came the response.
The other paramedic pressed the button to call the elevator. It came faster than it had the last time and Mei was caught off guard as the doors started to close again before she could join them.
“Wait. I’ll come with you,” Mei said, reaching.
“Are you family?” small pursed lips asked from under the hooked nose.
“No.”
The sunburned one shook his head, making little white lines in the burn as he moved. “Sorry, then. Can’t take you. You can call the hospital and see how she’s doing.”
“Where are you going?”
“General,” Sunburn said just as the doors met with a little thump.
Mei turned back to retrieve her jacket and her phone.
“Officer Ling?” The dispatcher’s voice sounded a little urgent.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“The paramedics are there?”
“They just left with her.”
“Good. You need anything else?”
Mei shook her head then realized she hadn’t spoken. “No. Thanks.”
Interference Page 5
