Let the Hunt Begin

by Alex Ander

  “How’s that?”

  “Most people are too embarrassed to talk about themselves.” He showed her his palms. “Don’t get me wrong, people love to talk about themselves, but sharing something personal, something life-changing, something deep?” He shook his head. “That’s the tough part.”

  Devlin thought for a moment, recalling times in her life she knew she would have a difficult time telling anyone else. She nodded a tick later. “I suppose you’re...”

  Her jacket pocket shuddered.

  “...right.” Digging out her mobile, she half smiled. “Maybe Faith made the right choice about you after all.”

  Randall held a shrug while sending a mischievous grin Devlin’s way. “Of course, she did. It was a no-brainer.”

  Her smile broadening, the marshal shook her head at him. “Don’t ruin the moment, Noah.” She spied her device. “Huh. Looks like someone’s ears must’ve been burning.” She tapped the screen. “Hello, Fay. Are you settling in all right?”

  *******

  6:42 P.M. (LOCAL TIME)

  ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

  Glancing out a third-floor window, wearing rounded, gold-colored, metal eyeglasses, her long blonde hair in a high ponytail and secured with a black ribbon, Faith cupped her right elbow while holding her cell phone to her right ear. “I’m doing great.” She looked over her left shoulder and spied the spacious room she had been given for an office. “They set me up in a conference room that has to be four times the size of my office back in Seattle.” She glimpsed the array of computer equipment spread out over a long table. “And your tech guys did a bang-up job on getting me what I needed.”

  Devlin: “Glad to hear it. I’m putting you on speaker. Noah’s here with me.” A beat. “So, what’s up?”

  “Well,” Faith pivoted away from the bank of windows and sat in a black leather executive chair, her black leather jacket draped over the back, “I think we may have gotten a break on this case. I just intercepted a communication between the Secret Service and the FBI. Four days ago, a server at a card room was—”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Wait a minute. You intercepted a communication between two federal agencies? How’s that even possible?”

  “Do you really want to know how the hot dogs are made, Jess?” Wedging her mobile between her cheek and shoulder, Faith pushed her white blouse’s sleeves up to her elbows. “Because I can give you all the technical mumbo jumbo jargon of algorithms, binary code, encryption software, and so on. Or,” she crossed her legs and leaned back, “you can accept it on faith—yes, pun intended—that your little sister knows what she’s doing when it comes to computers, and that the Intel I’m giving you is solid.”

  A sigh came through the line.

  Envisioning her older sibling rolling her eyes, Faith grinned.

  Devlin: “Fine. Proceed.”

  “Thank you. Now, as I was saying...four days ago, a server at a card room in Salem received a generous tip, a ‘hondo’ from a customer. She thought it looked funny, so she turned it in to the Secret Service. They determined the note was real; however, during their investigation, they discovered the serial number matched a bill that was part of a bank robbery from last year in Redding, California.”

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  “Six months ago, I worked on a task force that focused on unsolved robberies up and down the West Coast. When I heard Redding, California, I reviewed security footage of that job...four armed men moved as a unit, as a tactical team, during the robbery. Just like in Eugene, they were in and out in less than two minutes. That can’t be a coincidence. Plus, when I ran this by Deputy Director Thorn, she immediately remembered the Redding robbery and realized that’s why her instincts had been telling her to send you two to Oregon in the first place...the similarities are uncanny.”

  Randall: “Hey Faith?”

  At the sound of his voice, Faith’s heart beat a little faster. “Yeah?” Hearing her tone go from businesslike to giddy, she made a face and a fist but stopped herself from pounding on the table. Get it together, Fay.

  “Was one of the robbers from Redding a woman?”

  “From what I recall, all indications point to four men; however, after going over the video again, there was one who appeared to be shorter and slimmer than the others. Why do you ask?”

  “Julia Witten is almost positive one of the Eugene robbers was a woman.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind while I’m digging around.”

  Devlin: “This server in Salem...is that in Oregon?”

  “Correct...an hour’s drive from where you are now. Oh, and one more thing. I just pulled down this information, so I doubt if the FBI has had time to connect the bank note from the server to the robbery from three days ago. So, if you hurry, you can be the first ones to question her.”

  *******

  EUGENE, OREGON

  Devlin rose from her chair. “We’re leaving now. Send me the woman’s address.”

  Faith: “It’s on its way.”

  “Great job, Fay. This is exactly why I wanted you working with us...talk later.” She clicked off and got the attention of her and Randall’s server. “We need to leave now. Can you...” she handed over a credit card.

  “Certainly.” The server eyed the second half of the pizza still on the tray. “I’ll bring you a box for your leftovers, too.”

  “Forget that. We’re in a hurry.”

  Randall twirled his leather jacket around his shoulders, “Not so fast,” then shoved arms into sleeves. “I’ll probably be hungry again in two hours.”

  Devlin started to say something to him, stopped herself, then smiled at the other woman.

  The mid-thirties woman smiled back.

  “I guess we’ll be needing that box, after all.”

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 11

  In Two Minutes, We’re Gone

  3:57 P.M.

  EVERETT, WASHINGTON

  Sitting in the back of a black Ford Transit—two people seated across from him, one person on his right, and a driver at the wheel—Duke Hammer slipped a black balaclava over his head then donned a helmet and goggles.

  All four people in the back of the Transit were dressed in identical gear—black tactical clothing, helmets, goggles, black balaclavas, and chest rigs loaded with spare magazines for the AR-15s slung across their chests.

  “Okay, I,” Hammer verified the status of his AR-15, “I know we’ve gone over the plan dozens of times, but in a few minutes, it’ll be for real. So, one last time, once we’re in,” he pointed at the two broad-shouldered wide bodies facing him from across the width of the van, “you two head straight for the vault and load up the duffle bags.”

  The Wide Bodies nodded.

  Hammer made a fist and swung his up-turned thumb back and forth between himself and the person on his starboard side. “Sam and I will secure the main lobby and keep any twitchy fingers from signaling the police.” He held up the ‘peace’ sign. “In two minutes, we’re gone. Understood?”

  More nods.

  Hammer turned toward the driver. “How’s it looking out there?”

  Squeezing the steering wheel, Dryden peeked at the side mirrors and scanned the street. “Traffic’s picking up, Boss, but we’ve still got a clear shot to the front doors.”

  “Copy that.” The leader checked his watch. “We roll out in,” he paused, “ninety seconds,” before eyeing his teammates. “Complete radio silence while we’re inside. I’ll be the only one talking. Any questions?”

  The Wide Bodies and Sam said nothing.

  “All right. Stay focused, people. When this is all over, we’ll head to the rendezvous point and disappear into the surrounding forest.” Hammer gripped his long gun and glimpsed his watch, “Forty-five seconds to breach,” then he faced Dryden. “Let’s get this ride moving, Dry.”

  *******

  4:01 P.M.

  Noticing a man’s hand disappear under the high counter, Ha
mmer launched the upper half of his six-five body across the horizontal barrier and drove the stock of his AR-15 into the teller’s face.

  Howling in pain, the employee covered his bloodied face and toppled to the floor.

  Hammer leveled the gun at the remaining money changers. “Anyone else tries alerting the police and you’ll wish for a broken nose.

  Four women and a man backed away from their stations, their hands in the air.

  Hammer eyed his watch and glimpsed the back of his partner’s head. “Sixty seconds!”

  Not turning around, Sam acknowledged him with a ‘thumbs up’ while keeping the AR-15 trained on the customers lined up and sitting on the floor, their backs against a wall.

  *******

  Inside the bank’s vault, Wide Body 1 and 2 stuffed hundreds, fifties, and twenties into duffle bags while bank personnel, and a guard from the armored car outside, lay face down on the floor, their fingers interlaced on their heads.

  The guard turned his head to spy the robbers.

  Glimpsing him out of the corner of his eye, WB1 stopped what he was doing to aim his rifle at the man’s nose. “Whatever you’re thinking, ask yourself this...is minimum wage really worth dying for?”

  In their ears, Hammer’s voice: “Thirty seconds!”

  The guard turned away from the gun’s muzzle.

  WB1 slung his gun, “Good answer,” then hefted a duffle bag over each shoulder and tapped WB2 on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  *******

  39 MINUTES LATER...

  THREE MILES NORTH OF

  STARTUP, WASHINGTON

  Having been staged in the woods the night before, forest green canvas tarps draped over it, a covered trailer sat beside a black Ford Transit at the end of a little-used trail.

  WB1 pushed a four-wheel all-terrain vehicle down the trailer’s ramp and hopped onto the machine.

  During the drive from the bank, the robbers had divided the money into five smaller duffle bags, stripped out of their tactical clothing and piled everything, AR-15s included, at the front of the trailer.

  Now dressed in street clothes, looking like civilians, each person climbed aboard an off-road bike. WB1 and WB2 sat on ATVs. Dryden, Hammer, and Sam straddled motorcycles. All five had a duffle bag strapped across their backs.

  The five vehicles revved higher before taking off, their riders leaving everything behind.

  One following the other, the Wide Bodies headed northeast.

  Throwing out a rooster tail behind him, Dryden went southeast.

  Hammer squeezed the clutch, used his foot to shift the bike into first gear, and peeled out speeding eastward, Sam right behind him.

  Within seconds, all of them had been swallowed up by the thick wilderness.

  ∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞

  .

  Chapter 12

  Poker Room

  4:53 P.M.

  SALEM, OREGON

  MOUNTAIN PASS POKER CLUB

  Having arrived at the poker room three minutes ago, spoken with the manager, and been told the woman they were there to see would be starting her shift at five o’clock, Devlin and Randall sat down across from each other at an empty table near the establishment’s front door to wait for the woman to arrive.

  His back to the entrance, Randall gazed down the length of the long and narrow space to see two rows of green-felted, oblong wooden tables with matching wooden chairs. The walls on either side of the gambling area supported a horizontal line of large televisions. At the far end of the room was a bar area. Multi-colored, patterned carpeting, as well as overhead lamp shades pumping out subdued beams of yellow light, completed the décor.

  The afternoon crowd had petered out, and the evening rush had yet to begin, giving the agents a quiet place to question the server who had received the suspicious hundred-dollar bill and subsequently turned it over to the Secret Service.

  Two minutes into Devlin and Randall’s conversation about comparing the similarities of the robbery from last year to the one from three days ago, a short, early thirties woman in black slacks and a white dress shirt, her blonde hair in a mid-rise ponytail, entered the poker room. She acknowledged the agents with a brief smile and strolled the length of the room, veering left when the manager called her over.

  The manager spoke with her while throwing out a pointed finger once.

  Following his gesture, she glimpsed the two people she had smiled at earlier then faced her boss again.

  He said a few more words then headed for the bar area.

  The woman made a bee line for the marshals. “Hi. I was told you wanted to speak to me about the tip I received?”

  “Are you,” Devlin stood while fishing out her cred pack, “Rebecca Daniels?”

  Daniels nodded.

  “I’m Marshal Jessica Devlin.”

  Rising to his feet, Randall extended a hand. “And I’m Deputy Marshal Randall.”

  Handshakes ensued.

  “So, how can I help?”

  “Please,” Randall motioned toward the chair on his left, his partner’s one o’clock.

  Daniels sat and crossed her legs. “I was told the bill ended up being real.”

  Devlin nodded. “It was.” A beat. “However, it was also part of a bank robbery that took place last year in Redding, California.”

  Her eyes widening, the poker room server recoiled an inch. “Really? Wow. I didn’t know that. Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Thankfully, no,” Devlin shifted in her chair, “but that’s not why we’re here. We’re here to find out if you could tell us who gave you that bank note.”

  Daniels shrugged. “Gosh. I haven’t the faintest idea. He wasn’t a regular. If he was, I might’ve been able to give you a first name. But as it is, I’ve never seen him in here before.”

  “Could you describe him to us?”

  She hunched her shoulders while glancing away. “Average height and build, I guess. Mustache.” She wavered. “Or maybe he had a beard. His hair was light-colored and down to his collar. It was parted on the side. The left side, I think.” She made a face. “Or maybe it was the right. I’m not sure.” She regarded her questioner. “Like I said, I had never seen him until that night.”

  Randall leaned forward a hair. “What about his speech, his voice? Did he have an accent?”

  Daniels eyed him before glancing away again. “No.” She came back to him. “He talked like anyone else.” She scrunched up her eyebrows and went from him to Devlin. “Have you checked out the security cameras here?”

  The marshals exchanged a look then twisted their necks back and forth while spying the upper portions of the room. “Does this place have,” Devlin confronted her, “security cameras?”

  “They’re hidden, but every player knows they’re there. Newcomers have to sign a waiver giving us permission to record them.” She jabbed a thumb toward the bar area. “Tommy’s had to use it on occasion when money’s come up missing. In the past, some of the servers have been caught stealing.”

  Randall stood. “I’ll go see if he can get us the footage.”

  Devlin nodded at him, retrieved her phone, and tapped the icon for Faith. “So, Miss Daniels, would you be willing to work with another member of my team in identifying this man,” she motioned toward the poker room manager, “by going over the video from that night?”

  “I guess so,” a beat, “as long as my boss says it’s okay.”

  Devlin’s call connected.

  Faith: “I was just getting ready to call you. An hour ago, there was another bank job with the same M.O. as the one in Oregon.”

  “What? Where?” Devlin got up.

  “Everett, Washington.”

  An approaching Randall heard the tone in his partner’s voice. “What’s going on?”

  She held up an index finger toward the other female. “Will you excuse us for a minute, Miss Daniels? We’ll be right back.” She took his elbow, moved to the opposite corner, and tapped her phone’s screen, “You’re on
speaker with Noah and me,” then faced him. “There’s been another robbery just like the one in Oregon.” She eyed her mobile. “Go ahead, Faith.”

  “Details are sketchy at this point, but I was able to find out there were four individuals involved, and they were in and out in a couple of minutes. Witnesses reported seeing a black delivery-type van parked outside. That’s all I know. After we’re done here, I’ll be calling my precinct in Seattle. Detective Harker might have more for me.”

  “How far away is Everett from where we are now?”

  “Um,” a long pause, “looks like a good four-hour drive from Salem.”

  “Okay,” running the fingers of her free hand through her hair, Devlin pivoted to spy Daniels, “after you contact Harker, I need you to work with a woman who might be able to ID the guy who passed the hundred-dollar bill. Her employer has security cameras.”

  Randall: “The manager told me the system stores video for seven days before it starts recording over everything again. So, we’re still in that seven-day window. He’s also agreed to give us access to the system.”

  Faith: “Can he send me a copy, so I can verify what I’m looking at matches up with what the witness is looking at?”

  “I’ll see what I can get you.”

  “I’ll also need you to,” holding her locks at the back of her head, Devlin scratched her scalp, “get with the local police in Everett, Faith—or the FBI if they’re on the scene—and tell them we’re coming. I want an update from someone as soon as we roll into town. This robbery is fresh, and I don’t want to waste time. They may have left some clues for us to track.”

  Faith: “You got it, Jess. What else do you need?”

  “If I think of something, I’ll call you from the road. We’ll be leaving as soon as we know you’ll be getting what you need and that the witness knows what to expect. And please call me the second you have anything.”