Smoke Screen (The Darcy Lynch Series Book 2)

by Elin Barnes

  “What I’m saying is that I want to sell NanoQ for a profit. I don’t want to start from scratch again,” Martin said, ignoring Blake’s remark.

  “We’re about to sell for a hundred sixty-eight million dollars. We have a few more days of due diligence, and the papers will be on your desk way before Thanksgiving. What are you worried about?”

  The small and beady eyes of the twenty-seven-year-old CEO settled on his. Blake was unable to read his best friend’s expression, so he didn’t say anything more.

  “You sure about that?” Martin asked.

  The cappuccino Blake had just made in the fancy espresso machine suddenly tasted bitter. He rested the cup on the sofa’s armrest and sighed. “Yep,” he responded.

  “So there’s nothing about an impending lawsuit for patent infringement that I need to worry about?” His words came out slowly but deliberately, as if he was trying to hold back the betrayal he felt.

  Blake combed a hand through his blond hair. It was thinning even though he wasn’t thirty yet. “It’s not a lawsuit. We just got notified. Besides, it’s bogus. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  “We’re in the middle of an M&A, and you don’t think you need to tell me about a potential lawsuit for patent infringement of our core technology?”

  “Martin, this happens all the time. The patent trolls hit companies like ours to get patents cheaply and see if they will get lucky making millions suing the giants.” He took another deep breath. “I got this. I know our patents are fine. They’re just trying to scare us.” He paused for a second, as if a new idea had just popped in his head. “Or maybe your buddies are doing this to get us to drop the price.”

  Blake saw Martin’s jaw clench. He knew he’d just pushed a hot button. They’d had too many arguments about selling to Karsum Conglomerate, but Martin was ready to move on, so there was nothing more to discuss.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Martin finally said, but his voice quivered a little.

  Blake could see that the brilliant computer scientist was working his brain. He had managed to plant the seed, and now his friend was calculating the actual mathematical possibility that their buyer was playing dirty tricks on them. Blake knew Martin would ultimately decide that it was ridiculous and let the idea go, but at least he’d be distracted for a day or two.

  And by then the problem would be solved.

  “I don’t think so either. You said they were good people.” Blake made sure there was a hint of accusation in his voice.

  Still thinking, Martin asked, “So, then, what do you think is going on?”

  “I’m digging into it. You go on with your schmoozing and let me figure this out.” He took the mug and got up. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Let’s sell this thing and start our next venture.”

  Blake walked toward the door, but before he left, Martin said, “You know if this gets out, the deal will be off the table.”

  Blake turned around, locked eyes with Martin and responded, “That’s why I’m taking care of it.”

  Chapter 20

  Darcy leaned against the wall, too antsy to sit. Saffron stood by his side. He didn’t know what to say. He checked his watch. Jon was still in surgery. Darcy didn’t know how long he would be on the operating table, but he figured that as long as he was there, he was still alive.

  He sensed Saffron looking at him, but couldn’t meet her eyes. He pushed himself off the wall. She reached out and grabbed his hand. For the first time since he’d got to the hospital, he felt himself exhale.

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Sorensen yelled from the entrance of the hallway.

  Darcy turned to face him, releasing Saffron’s hand. He felt everybody’s attention turn first to the huge detective and then back to him, probably waiting to see how he would respond. But he didn’t reply. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, so he couldn’t answer his partner’s question.

  “Sorensen . . .” Captain Virago started saying.

  Sorensen reached Darcy and threw a punch that propelled him a few feet backward. Saffron tried to get in between, but Sorensen was faster. He got in Darcy’s face, his left hand pressed against Darcy’s chest, pinning him against the wall, his right fist raised up high, ready to punch his partner again if he didn’t like what he had to say.

  “I asked you a question,” Sorensen hissed, pushing him harder against the wall.

  “Enough!” Virago yelled, stepping beside them. “This is not appropriate,” she said to Sorensen, who backed away but huffed while he did.

  Darcy wanted to feel ashamed that the captain had to come to his rescue, but the only thing he felt was an overwhelming guilt.

  A phone rang somewhere close by. Virago, standing in front of Darcy but looking at Sorensen, fished her phone out of her purse.

  “What?” she barked.

  Darcy couldn’t hear the voice on the other end. Virago nodded while she listened. Her face was stern, every muscle tensed. When she finally hung up, she turned to Darcy and said, “Go back to the office.”

  “What? I’m not leaving until I know Jon’s okay.”

  “It’s not a request, Lynch. I’ll keep you posted.”

  He didn’t move. Her dark brown eyes looked onyx black under the fluorescent hospital lights.

  “If you really want to help, find out who’s behind this.” Her voice was a little softer.

  Darcy exchanged glances with Saffron, and they both started walking away.

  “And Detective . . .”

  Darcy looked back over his shoulder. He felt every officer and detective watching him.

  “Yes?”

  “Put on a jacket or something.”

  He nodded and touched his shoulder. He met Saffron’s stare and grinned, trying to defuse her worried look.

  Once they were out of earshot, Saffron said, “Loads of love in there.”

  “You’ve got no idea.”

  He was walking fast. Saffron’s long legs allowed her to keep pace with him.

  “Can I borrow your car?” Darcy asked.

  “I thought that’s why I was coming with you.”

  She put her arm inside his, and he realized how much he appreciated her warmth. Once they were outside of the hospital, Darcy stopped and hugged her. She kissed his cheek and squeezed him harder.

  She let him go and handed him the keys. “Jon’s going to be okay. He’s a strong kid.”

  “I hope so.” He kissed her and got in the Mini.

  “Go get the bad guys, Darcy. I’ll wait here until Jon’s out of danger.”

  He nodded and started the car. “Keep me posted.”

  “You know it.” She blew a kiss in his direction.

  Darcy drove out of the parking lot, but before he was gone he looked back toward the hospital entrance. He saw Saffron stop and turn back. She saw him and waved.

  Before he’d reached the light, he checked his phone and flinched. It was speckled with Jon’s blood, silently accusing him of recklessness. He wiped it against his pants, but the blood was already dry. Darcy debated for a second whether to use the phone anyway but then put it back into his pocket.

  Chapter 21

  After Darcy left, Sorensen walked to the hospital’s waiting area and searched the vending machine for a Red Bull. There weren’t any, so he settled for a Diet Dr Pepper. He went back to talk to Virago.

  “What do you have?” she asked.

  “Not much. The van disappeared somewhere around Central Expressway. They’re canvasing all the warehouses in the area, but no luck so far. Lynch never called in the license plates, so we can’t dig through that angle.”

  “Traffic cams?”

  “The assholes didn’t run any red lights. Don’t ask me how, or the stupid things weren’t working. Who knows? But Traffic hasn’t found anything yet.”

  “And the bank?”

  “Same gig as the coffee shop and the VTA. But this time there were only four men. The ATM and the bank cameras caught that much. All in black, masks, thr
ew the gas grenades, and then all you can see is gray.”

  “Did they take money this time?” Virago sounded as exasperated as Sorensen felt.

  “It doesn’t look like it either.”

  “Kidnapping?”

  “We haven’t verified that yet, but I have a gut feeling there’ll be somebody missing.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “Nobody awake, and nobody else has come forward.”

  Virago fell silent for a while. Her eyes were lost somewhere, but Sorensen knew she was thinking hard.

  “It’s up to you, Detective, but if you’re up for it, I would rather have you out there solving this case . . .”

  Sorensen hesitated. He cared about Jon as if he were his own kid.

  “You’ll keep me posted?” he asked.

  “Play by play.”

  He nodded and followed Darcy’s path out of the hospital. But instead of going back to the office, he went to the shooting crime scene. When he got there, he walked over to Sergeant Marra.

  “What can you tell me?”

  “We’ve found thirty-four shell casings. 5.56 mm, so these guys weren’t kidding around. I’m surprised there wasn’t more damage. How’s your guy, by the way?”

  “Still in surgery.”

  Marra nodded and started walking toward the end of the street. Sorensen followed him. The orange tape cordoned off an area flanked by light posts. Several yellow cones with numbers pinpointed the evidence within the perimeter. A burly man was hitching the Cobra to the tow truck. A tech knelt on the ground taking photos of a tire tread. Sorensen wondered how the scientist knew that that tread was more significant than the dozens of others on the street. He made a mental note to ask Lou one day.

  When they reached the end of the street, Marra stopped. “From here, if they took a left we have no camera coverage for a couple miles, if they were smart enough to stick to side streets. If they took a right, they may have gone up to Central Expressway, and we may get lucky with a pic or two.” Marra didn’t sound very confident.

  “Traffic hasn’t found anything yet.”

  “Yeah, I heard.” Marra looked toward the area behind them. “Maybe we’ll get something here.”

  “No witnesses?” Sorensen did a 360, taking in the entire crime scene.

  “I got a bunch of officers canvasing the area, but there are no storefronts; these are all warehouses. Most people probably thought it was safer to stay inside once the fireworks started.”

  “A man can always hope.” Sorensen checked his phone in case he’d received any other leads. There was nothing. “Okay, thank you. I’m heading out to the station to see if I can dig up any connections with the other two incidents.” He dreaded having to be in the same room with Lynch, but solving this case was more important than having to breathe the same air as the asshole who’d put Jon in the hospital.

  “I’ll let you know if I find anything here.”

  Sorensen shook hands with Marra and walked back to his car. As he drove, he wondered how long it would take the Feds to come knocking at this door, asking about the missing Marine.

  Chapter 22

  Ethan’s place wasn’t very big, but it was modern, clean, and it had an amazing view of Moffett Field. Ethan pulled cold beers from the fridge for everybody, even though it was barely noon. They all opened them and sat in the living room.

  “We have to blow up the van,” Ethan said.

  He watched Mac’s face show a pang of regret, but instead of saying anything, he emptied half his beer. Good boy, Ethan thought.

  “Semtex?” Barr asked.

  “That’s some heavy-duty stuff,” Curtis said. “They’ll trace it.”

  “Maybe, but we need to completely destroy it. It’s the only way to make sure there’s no evidence.” Ethan looked around to let the gravity of the statement sink in. “There’re only two things that went well today: one is that we got the target. The other is that we didn’t get caught. But it was a close call, and we shot at the police. They’ll even have the janitor looking for us.” He finished his beer. “What we need to do is get this job done ASAP so we can get paid and take a well-deserved vacation.”

  Mac got up and checked on Suresh Malik. He was still unconscious from the blow to the head Barr gave him when he started waking up at the warehouse.

  Mac looked back at the group and asked, “Should we start then? I can’t wait to go to Maui.”

  They toasted to hot beaches and finished their beers.

  Then Ethan got up to begin the torture session.

  Chapter 23

  Sorensen was glad Lynch wasn’t in the bullpen when he arrived. He looked at the boards and read the information his partner had added about the bank case, the van, and the shootout. He filled in a few blanks with what he’d learned from Marra. But his mind was on Jon. The last update from Virago told him that he made it out of surgery.

  At least he was still alive.

  Sorensen sat in his chair and chugged the last few drops of an old Red Bull. The station was almost empty. It felt eerie, but he knew they were all gone, trying to find who’d shot Jon.

  And he was here.

  He looked up at the boards covered with crime scene photos of the VTA, the coffee shop, the bank, and the street where Lynch finally stopped pursuing the van. The last check of the traffic cams still showed no leads. Some officers were canvasing the warehouses, asking people if they recognized, or had seen, the black van. So far, nothing. It had vanished. Just like that.

  He went to the vending machine and got a bag of potato chips and another Red Bull. On the way back he heard his desk phone. He picked it up on the last ring.

  “Sorensen.”

  “I’m not really sure how to tell you this,” First Sergeant Loren said. There was dread in his voice, and Sorensen felt his neck hairs stand on end.

  “National security threat?” the detective asked, sitting down.

  “I never thought I would say this, but today I kind of wish it was.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What could be worse?” He rubbed his eyes with his thick knuckles, then opened the can.

  “Seth McAuley just called me.”

  “He’s alive? That’s good.”

  “From Seattle.”

  “Why? He deserted?”

  “What? No. Why would you think so?”

  “I don’t know. You said this was worse than a national security threat. Can you get to the point? What the hell’s going on?” Sorensen asked, losing his patience.

  There was silence on the other side, and finally he heard an audible sigh that lasted forever. Sorensen imagined his long-lost friend bracing himself before giving him the worst news he’d probably ever given.

  “We just put McAuley on a plane back to the Bay Area. He doesn’t remember anything after the gas started spreading inside the coffee shop.”

  “Okay . . .” Sorensen said, encouraging him to continue.

  “He woke up on a bus heading to Vancouver, BC.” Loren swallowed. “He was dressed in a kilt—”

  “He was what?”

  “He was dressed in a kilt, and his eyebrows were missing.”

  Silence overtook both men.

  Sorensen didn’t know what to say. Finally he rose from the chair and yelled, “This is not fucking funny, Loren. I have three cases with the same MO, and one of my guy’s in the hospital shot multiple times, his life hanging by a thread, and you’re making jokes?” He started pacing by the side of his desk. “Grow up and get over what happened in college,” he shouted, and hung up.

  Still holding the receiver, now in the cradle, he looked up at the board and saw Jon’s smiling face from the DMV photo. Sorensen lifted the receiver and slammed it three times against the desk, each time with increasing force, making a point to the world. But there was nobody around to see it.

  The phone rang again.

  “What?” he snarled, not caring who was on the other end.

  “Sorensen, I’m serious,” Loren said. “
What I’m trying to say is that in McAuley’s case, it doesn’t seem to be a national security case or even a crime at all. I’m embarrassed to say that it looks like some shitbirds on my side of the fence wanted to make a statement. This was a prank.”

  “You can’t know that after talking to a guy who doesn’t remember anything.” Sorensen paced again. “Make sure he comes straight here from the airport. I have a lot of questions for him.”

  “We’ll have to debrief him first.”

  “No. You listen to me. I got a man in the hospital and dozens of shots fired from a van in a public street. That’s no prank. If you want to debrief your man, you better do it in the car on the way to my station.” He realized he was still yelling. “If you don’t, I’ll arrest you for obstruction,” he said in a lower but equally firm voice.

  “Very well. He’ll land at 1330 hours. We should be in your office by 1400 hours.”

  Sorensen checked his watch. He had a little less than an hour to prepare.

  Chapter 24

  Ethan didn’t really like to punch people. But it seemed that today he’d been forced to do it a few times. He looked down at Suresh Malik, tied to the chair and already bloody.

  “How much do you want to live?” Ethan asked him again.

  Malik’s left eye was swollen shut and already the size of an egg. He was bleeding from his nose, and the front of his white polo shirt was soaked red. But still the only thing Malik did was beg.

  Ethan turned around and walked to the table just a few feet away. He could sense Malik watching him.

  “You can stop this at any time. I’ve told you that already,” Ethan said, ogling his tools.

  He picked a pair of pliers and faced his victim. Ethan swung the device from side to side as he approached Malik. The man retreated against the back of the chair he was tied to and gripped the ends of the armrests, as if that would protect his nails from being pulled out. Ethan got closer. When he was only a few feet apart, Malik started shaking his head and whimpered harder. Ethan stopped and just watched.