Eraserbyte (byte series Book 7)

by Cat Connor

  “Iain?” I said. “Will you?”

  “Yeah. I’ll drive out now and visit Tierney. He owes me a coffee.” Iain glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. “If it gets much later this will be a breakfast meeting.”

  “Thank you.”

  Iain stood up, put his chair back, said goodbye to Troy, waved at me and left.

  “Will he really try to get you drones?” Troy asked. His hand rubbed the back of his neck.

  Something bothered him. I watched his reaction as I spoke again.

  “Yes. Yes, he will. We need to find those women. We need our own feed. You heard my argument.”

  Troy’s fingers pulled at his collar, then adjusted his tie. He nodded. “Now what?”

  I moved away from the drone subject. “Now, you need to add everything you have to our file.”

  He stopped fidgeting. “Yes, ma’am, I mean … SSA.”

  “You can use my office. When you’ve finished, go home get some sleep. I’ll be back here by six a.m.”

  “Yes, SSA.”

  I picked up my phone and holster from my desk before leaving the room. From the doorway, I said, “Hope we get the drone.”

  Troy rubbed his neck and said nothing. Something about the drone made him unhappy. Halfway down the hallway I paused and made a call. While I waited for Mitch to answer, I slid the paddle holster into my waistband and adjusted my jacket.

  “Hi, awake?”

  “Yes. Where are you?” Mitch said.

  “Escaping the office for a few hours. Coffee?”

  “Yes. Come over.”

  “On my way.”

  Seventeen minutes later, I walked up the path to Mitch’s front door. Security lighting flooded the area in a brilliant white glow. The door opened.

  “It’s late, you okay?” Mitch asked, ushering me across the threshold and into the dimly lit hallway. I stepped into his embrace, exhaled, and relaxed, in no hurry to move. “Didn’t think I’d see you until you got back from New Zealand.”

  Leaning back a little in his arms, I smiled. “Plans changed. Kurt and I are staying. Lee and Sam are going.”

  The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted down the hallway. Hand in hand we walked into the kitchen.

  Before I could take the cup Mitch held out to me, the room shimmered, disappearing. My right hand hit the counter as I tried to find something solid. The cold marble countertop jolted the shimmer into submission but the images stayed. I saw the dark-haired woman from the surveillance tapes standing outside the White House and the word ‘renegade’ painted across the lawn surrounded by glowing roses and vegetables.

  An urgency in Mitch’s voice made me look up. His eyes searched mine. “What was that?” he asked. “Something happened.”

  I felt his hand tighten around my arm.

  What was that? There was no good answer.

  “I slipped?”

  “No, you didn’t. What was it?” he said. “Sit down.”

  Mitch watched me, his smile gone. I heard The Joker and recognized the voice as Heath Ledger’s, “Why so serious?”

  Not now.

  Mitch’s head shook just a little. “El, sit down.”

  I did as he asked. My mind ran in circles trying to figure out what happened and why I saw that woman. That woman. One of the three on Troy’s watch list.

  The White House.

  Could be nothing. Could be nothing, except the Secret Service called the President 'Renegade.' The roses came back into view. Glowing. Radiant.

  Nausea circled. I breathed until it subsided.

  Radiance and Rosebud were Renegade’s children. The vegetables. The First Lady, FLOTUS, had a vegetable garden. The Secret Service called her Renaissance. Obviously, that was a hard word for my mind to depict.

  Could be nothing?

  “Ellie? Talk.”

  I looked at Mitch. So worried. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. Guess I’m tired.”

  “Nah, not buying it. What happened? It looked like you saw something.”

  He shouldn’t have to buy it. That’s not fair of me. Need to be better at this relationship stuff than I have been before.

  “I did. I saw something.” That wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. Going for broke seemed like a good plan. “The room shimmered and I saw a target of ours outside the White House … the word ‘renegade’ was written on the lawn and surrounded by glowing roses and vegetables.”

  He looked into my eyes for about twenty seconds before speaking. “Were the vegetables glowing or just the roses?”

  I smiled. “That’s it?”

  His smile came back. “No, but I knew it would make you smile. So what was it?”

  “Hallucination?”

  “Hmmm and it means?”

  That I need another MRI.

  “Maybe something, maybe nothing.”

  “Is it nothing?”

  My head shook. “No, but I can’t prove what my gut is saying until we find the women we’re looking for.”

  “What’s it saying?”

  “That the First family is in danger and that I might be right thinking that one of our targets is ‘someone.’”

  “Wow.”

  “I know, right? Could also mean that I need another MRI … and my brain has finally short-circuited.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “To be fair that’s not a very good indicator, Mitch. I’m always okay.”

  “Yeah, you are.” His eyes studied mine. “You look better. Before, your eyes were dark, the sparkle gone.”

  So seeing things has a physical manifestation. Imagine that.

  “I’m waiting for a colleague to get something authorized for me. Then maybe I can prove or disprove this new crazy.” I picked up the coffee cup in front of me. The coffee was still warm. “Can I stay tonight?”

  He smiled. “You need to ask?”

  “No … that was me being polite. I need to be back in the office by six and I don’t want to be alone.”

  Breaking down walls. Admitting I don’t want to be alone, big!

  A hint of suspicion crept into Mitch’s voice. “Is that something to do with the hallucination?”

  I nodded. “It’s not the first one this week, but it is the first one that could show a possible threat to national security.” I saw the concern in his eyes before he could mask it. I needed to shut up.

  “The others?”

  “I think they’re related to the case in New Zealand, and the discovery of a woman at an abandoned factory. Overall impression is that it’s connected with trafficking and is possibly a distraction. Lee and Sam will figure it out. If it were a distraction, it wouldn’t be the first time, and also only half the team is going.” I leaned on the counter. “Enough work talk … it’s making me sound more and more insane.”

  “Your mind is definitely not like other peoples, but it’s not insanity.”

  “That’s not insane?”

  “No. You’re observant. People’s bodies speak to you.”

  “Thanks. It feels like insanity.”

  “You also have the ability to tap into something out there …”

  “That’s not insane?”

  “No more insane than you and I knowing what the other is thinking, or awake …”

  “You heard those words, right?” I smiled. “When you start hearing the same songs as me you might change your mind about the sanity of the situation.”

  “You mean like Adele’s ‘Set Fire to the Rain’ at four this morning?”

  “Ha, snap!”

  “I’m already there …”

  What were the chances of us being on the same wavelength?

  “What is it you need to do to prove that woman is a threat?”

  “I need to find them. Every time we get them on a camera, the feed disappears and we don’t know where they are. The pattern so far suggests they’re mainly interested in Washington. I know where they’ve been, can extrapolate that information and project it into possible places they’ll end up.”
<
br />   “Soft targets or hard?”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Jargon? Mitch?

  “Do you think they’re going after soft or hard targets?”

  “It’s D.C. We’re still scrambling fighter planes at the drop of a hat. And since the Navy Yard shooting and that woman who rammed the White House gates in 2013, security is even tighter. Is there such a thing as a soft target here anymore?”

  “Good point. Where have they visited so far?”

  “Smithsonian, reflecting pools, Monument, White House, The Mall. Capitol Hill, the Department of Energy …”

  “Okay.”

  No, not okay.

  “What’s with the questions and the jargon? That’s not like you.” I set my cup on the counter. “Don’t think you can pass this off as spending too much time with me, or being in my head.”

  He smiled. “We’ve been working on a Defense contract for the last year. There’s a prototype drone in my office. It’s so small it doesn’t need FAA approval.” He held his index finger and thumb apart about an inch. “It’s the size of a hummingbird.”

  “A hummingbird? How am I just hearing about this now?” I asked.

  “We have lots of contracts for various things,” Mitch replied with a grin.

  That was true. He and his brother owned a company that designed and manufactured electronic components for all manner of applications and, apparently, made drones.

  “Who designed the hummingbird?”

  His smile widened. “It’s my design.”

  “Thought you were more into management these days?”

  “Me too. Couldn’t resist the challenge.”

  That was Mitch. He was all about the challenge and doing things right. Sometimes doing things right meant doing it yourself.

  “And it’s tiny, this drone, the size of a hummingbird?”

  “Yep. There is a catch – you have to follow it, and keep within a mile. The range isn’t great. We won’t be flying these things in Iraq from here.”

  “That’s the only catch?”

  “Not exactly. We’re looking to field test the hummingbird so we would collect data.” Mitch paused then carried on. “The plus of this little toy is … it’s capable of going into buildings.”

  That was a definite design advantage.

  “And if someone spots it and swats it against a wall?”

  “The FBI gets invoiced for quarter of a million dollars.”

  “That seems fair.”

  Yeah, covering the destruction on the tiny drone would blow my quarterly budget straight to hell.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t get squished.”

  If we could get the bigger drone from the CIA to do the initial locating of these women, then we could deploy the hummingbird to follow them more closely. I liked it.

  Seven

  Take It All

  My phone alarm went at five. I woke to the smell of coffee.

  “Morning,” Mitch murmured as he leaned down and kissed me. “Coffee is ready. About to make breakfast. Hungry?”

  “Starving.” My stomach rumbled.

  “Your phone’s being going nuts for the last twenty minutes,” Mitch said and passed it to me. My fingers pressed the button on the top of the case. The screen lit up. Missed calls, text messages, and emails. I pressed the button again and let the blackness swallow the colorful commotion.

  My eyes didn’t want to focus on anything but Mitch. I knew I had to, but not until after my coffee and after breakfast. My stomach grumbled again.

  Mitch laughed. “Sleep well?”

  “Yes,” I said with a smile. “You?”

  “Yes, always when you’re close.”

  Me too. One day soon we’d be really close.

  “Mind if I have a shower before breakfast?” I said. My phone buzzed in my hand. I didn’t look. Instead, I put the phone back on the nightstand. “They can wait.”

  “Go for it. You know where everything is.”

  Ten minutes later, showered and dressed, I joined Mitch in the kitchen.

  “Omelet?” he asked as he broke eggs into a bowl.

  “Please.”

  We ate without talking, because we didn’t need to. After breakfast, I checked the messages on my phone.

  “We got the CIA drone,” I said, reading a text from Iain Campbell. “Lee and Sam are on their way to New Zealand. Kurt couldn’t find me. Troy thinks he found something.” I paused and looked at the rest of the messages. “Troy thinks he found something times three and Kurt’s getting worried.”

  Mitch grinned. “Can no one live without you?”

  “They’re jumpy, that’s all,” I replied.

  I knew why Kurt was worried. He didn’t buy my explanation for the weirdness in the office the other day. And then there was the being shot at thing. I read an email from Kurt. The DA made a decision to hold Trudenca and Cox on murder charges for the death of Arnie Arthur and the attempted murder of two federal agents. Their lawyers were trying to get them released on bail. Kurt thought if they were released, they wouldn’t last long and we’d never find out who Rob is or was.

  “Something is going on in D.C. and we don’t know what it is,” I said.

  “Sure … that’s the reason.”

  “Funny man.”

  “Who’s flying the drone for you?”

  “CIA, I presume, it’s their toy.”

  “Let me know if you want to use the hummingbird.”

  “Who’d control it?”

  “I would,” he replied without hesitation. “Prototype, can’t let anyone outside the company control it.”

  “And you have to follow it?”

  “Yes, it’s a limited-range vehicle.”

  Seemed weird thinking of something very small as a vehicle.

  “So you’d be in the field with me?”

  “Yes.”

  There was no stopping the smile as it spread across my lips. Then there was: in the field? With me? That was a whole new scenario filled with potential hell. ‘What ifs’ circled like seagulls after a free feed.

  “You okay?” Mitch asked, refilling my coffee.

  “Not really. I’m not keen on you being in the field with me. Too many variables.”

  “It’s surveillance. I don’t carry a gun. I won’t be entering any unsafe situations. I’m controlling a drone,” Mitch mustered his patient voice. I knew that wasn’t easy for him.

  I shook my head. Life had a way of fucking everything up.

  “My focus will shift if I know you’re in the field.”

  Honest. Very honest. And true.

  “You worked with Mac—”

  I saw the look on his face as soon as the words left his mouth. “Bad analogy,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Bad analogy.”

  “That wasn’t your fault—”

  “It’s okay.”

  No sense in getting into that or arguing what was or wasn’t my fault. But it’s okay. It won’t happen again. Live and learn.

  “It’s surveillance, El, I won’t be in the line of fire.” He smiled to reassure me. “And anyway, I know you’ll be there.”

  “My focus … it’s about my focus. If I’m thinking about you, I’m not thinking about potential issues.”

  “Okay. It’s your decision. I respect that. But just let me ask you something …”

  I didn’t like where that was going but nodded.

  “Last week you were involved in a situation, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Situation. Ha. Lunatic with a hostage. Good word situation.

  “What were you thinking about when you entered that building? Honestly.”

  Oh, that’s not fair. He knew. He could feel my thoughts when they involved him. How did that even happen?

  “You.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “That’s not the same. You weren’t in danger.”

  “No, but you were and you still focused despite me being on your mind.” He smiled. “You can do this, Grasshopper
.”

  “I can do this. If you get hurt … I’ll kill you.”

  His eyebrows rose. “I guess that’s fair?”

  “Don’t get hurt.”

  “I’ll be out of the way, flying the drone, nowhere near the targets.”

  That’s what you say now.

  “They better not be famous last words.” I finished my omelet before I asked another question. “What’s your security clearance?”

  Mitch’s eyes met mine. “TS/SCI.”

  “Top Secret, Sensitive Compartmented Information.” I let his acronyms roll around my head. “Special projects?”

  He nodded.

  Eight

  I met a boy

  “I need authorization for a civilian to conduct surveillance for us,” I said, sitting on the edge of Caine’s desk and sliding the paperwork across to him.

  Caine read the name on the paperwork, “Mitch Iverson.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Clearance?” he asked.

  “Defense. TS/SCI.”

  “You said civilian.” His eyes met mine. A distracting twitch in the corner of Caine’s mouth caught my eye. Stress.

  “He is. His company has a contract to develop some hardware for our military.”

  “I see.”

  “Just do it …” I said with a smile.

  “Keep him out of the line of fire, Ellie. A lawsuit we don’t need.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Caine twitched again. “I want a protective detail with him. Delta A is down two.”

  I saw that coming. “I’d be happy to ask for volunteers from SWAT.”

  “Do it.” Caine narrowed his eyes. “I’ll authorize this but he doesn’t go into the field without SWAT with him. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  His all-seeing eyes scrutinized my face for a moment. “You all right? Last night was unfortunate.”

  Unfortunate. Yeah, that’s what it was.

  “Kurt and I are fine. My CI not so much.”

  “So I heard.” Caine’s eyes disappeared into the creases of his face. “As long as you’re all right. Carry on.”

  My next visit was to the SWAT tactics room.

  I knocked twice. “Y’all decent in there?” I called and opened the door.

  “Come on in, Ellie,” Andrews hollered from across the room. “Cover up boys, lady on deck.”