Eraserbyte (byte series Book 7)

by Cat Connor

  “Not yet. You want us to do that or do you want to try?”

  “You do it. I want a marksman in that tree.” I pointed.

  Andrews nodded. “I’ve got two on the garage roof.”

  “I saw one.”

  Kurt was on the phone. When he finished he had news and it wasn’t good.

  “Robinson was at a gun range recently with a rifle. He’d just purchased a new weapon and was getting some range time in.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  He shook his head. “No, but you need to know.”

  “Tell me then.”

  “SG 550 and he’s proficient.”

  “And there’s a weapons safe in that study of his, because that’s how our luck goes,” I muttered. “Open communication, Andrews. Let’s see if he wants to talk. Meanwhile, if anyone gets a clear shot, take it.”

  “Step into my office, Conway, you can watch the fun on the monitors.”

  Andrews swung open a side door in the truck.

  It was darkish inside and smelled like men. Not unpleasant like a high school locker room, this was more a mix of deodorant and gun oil. Andrews tapped the back of a chair facing three computer screens.

  “Here’s your vantage point, Conway.” He handed me a headset. “You can communicate with the team. If you need to.”

  “What if I need to be out there, up that tree with a rifle?” I said quietly.

  “In a heartbeat, Conway. But I think Kurt here would have something to say about that.”

  Kurt sat next to me, his elbow resting on the back of my chair. He spoke, his breath tickled as it brushed my ear, “No rifle. No tree. Am I clear?”

  “Yeah.”

  Killjoy.

  My eyes settled on the vista before me. Three different views of the same room. The senator sat behind a large desk. I could see his face. He wasn’t a happy man. Good, he had no rights to happiness. A woman seated in the chair in front of the desk wrung her hands in her lap. Akio Uzumaki. The complication. I could hear Andrews’ team talking via the headset. No resolution. Andrews made a third attempt at getting Robinson on the phone. They’d reinstated the phone line for SWAT use only. I watched as Robinson picked the receiver up off the desk.

  Andrews stood behind me, looking over my shoulder at the screens while he spoke. Calm. Controlled. At times jovial. He was good at his job. I gathered from the conversation that the Senator wasn’t willing to play nice. Andrews’s voice grew quieter. He’d moved to the other end of the huge truck.

  Kurt pulled a folded wad of paper out from inside his jacket and handed it to me. It was a search warrant for the premises and also the arrest warrant for Senator Robinson. I skimmed the documents and handed them back.

  “If he gives himself up, you can slap him with those,” I said. I’d like to shoot the bastard and I’m pretty sure I could live with my decision.

  My phone rang: Delta C.

  Kurt’s phone rang. He held his phone next to mine. Same call. We answered together.

  “Conway, Henderson, Troy is dead.”

  “How?” I asked. “He was in custody?”

  “Yes. He was. He slit his wrists. His escort found his body in the men’s bathroom.”

  “Find out what he used and where he got it!” I hung up.

  Kurt followed suit.

  “We need to move on Robinson before he ganks himself.”

  “Ganks?” Kurt queried.

  I shrugged, and immediately regretted the movement. It hurt. “I’ve probably watched too much Supernatural.” Robinson is a monster. Sam and Dean gank monsters. Gank felt right.

  “Conway, explain gank,” Kurt said with incredible patience.

  “Kill. Before he kills himself.”

  I signaled Andrews by swirling my finger in the air. He’d stopped talking to Robinson.

  “Robinson’s not a happy man,” Andrews said. “What do you need?”

  “We need to get in there, get the woman out, and arrest that bastard. There’s a chance he’ll try and kill himself. His buddy in the FBI did.”

  Movement on the screen made us turn. We all watched as Robinson walked across the room took something large from a cabinet and walked back to his desk with the object hanging next to his leg from one hand. He used both hands to lift it and put it on the desk. A rifle. Not that easy to commit suicide with a rifle. Maybe he was planning on shooting his way out.

  He turned, reached over his desk, and took something from a drawer. A handgun.

  Damn.

  A voice over my headset said, “We have a non-fatal resolution.”

  I answered, “Take the shot.”

  Watching without breathing.

  Robinson’s head turned. He frowned. His body slumped onto his desk.

  Andrews spoke into his headset. “Entry team. Go! Go! Go!”

  Four men stormed the room via the outside door. Watching on the screen, I saw Robinson move.

  Crap.

  A gunshot rang out.

  Red splattered over one screen obscuring the view.

  “Andrews, you’ll have to clean that camera.”

  Forty-Nine.

  Eye Of The Tiger

  I sat in the car, Mitch stood outside talking to Kurt. We’d uncovered a lot of information. Phone call time. I pressed the speaker icon before the phone stopped ringing.

  “Ellie. You okay?” Caine’s voice sounded uncharacteristically soft.

  “Yep.”

  “You going to tell me …”

  “It’s going to take months to go through all the documents found at the estate. Senator Robinson died in a shoot-out with Delta.” I figured if I talked fast enough I wouldn’t have to think too much about the mess Robinson made. “We located two extra people on the premises, a child by the name of Lily-Ann Blackwell and an adult male, Keith Blackwell.”

  I closed my eyes and breathed. “Waiting on Child Protective Services to take the kid. We arrested the father,” I said.

  “And?”

  “You won’t like this … half an hour ago Justin Troy took his own life.”

  “How?”

  “Someone gave him a knife,” I replied. “That someone was his friend from legal. A lawyer by the name of Craig Robinson. He got to Troy before Delta C could arrest Robinson.”

  “Related?”

  “Brother to Senator Robinson.”

  “What a mess.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “The Robinson brothers are perverts. They were behind the Blackwell operation. Not only that, but Senator Robinson was on the board of a nanotechnology company with a Government contract.”

  “The girl’s parents are in that field?” Caine asked.

  “Yes. He approached them. They were about to lose a big contract because they didn’t have anyone as good as the Dobrovolnýs in their specialized field,” I said.

  “This was about getting the parents to come on board and work for his damn company here in the USA?”

  “Seems that way.”

  “Excessive?”

  “The deal is worth billions,” I said. Mitch knew a lot about the company involved and told me more about the contract they were after. Mitch’s company was tendering for the same government contract.

  Money. The root of all evil? Nah. People are the root of all evil, money is just money.

  “While you were busy I did some investigating of my own,” Caine said.

  “Into?”

  “Danni Lane.”

  “And?”

  “She was a nut, working both sides, with her own agenda, which included setting off bombs in D.C. and documenting the results and your reactions for research purposes,” Caine grumbled. “You think you can stop attracting these people?”

  “I’ll do my best,” I replied. “There’s gotta be more to it than that. She was firmly embedded in the situations as they unfolded.”

  And Chance told me she was part of it all.

  “You’re right. There is more to it. We uncovered a connection to
Blackwell.”

  “You what?” I hadn’t expected that.

  “Danni Lane and Blackwell are related.”

  “In what way?”

  I picked they were first cousins who married but that probably wasn’t the case. Maybe their parents were first cousins that married? Focus. Dammit.

  “First cousins.”

  Too good to be true. I doubted my hearing.

  “Say what now?”

  “First cousins.”

  “Who married?”

  Caine’s voice rasped in my ear, “No, but I can see how you’d think that.”

  “But what about Trudi and Susan, what did they really have to do with any of it?”

  “Apart from being convenient scapegoats. Nothing that we have found.”

  “And the State Department guy, David Krauss, did you hear from Iain Campbell?”

  “Yes, they’re dealing with that. Seems he was passing information about you, gleaned from various sources.”

  “So, it’s over?”

  “Yes, just the cleanup now.”

  “No one else is going to try to erase us from the planet?”

  “Not today, Ellie.” Caine’s gruff voice softened. “You can go home. In fact, you are now officially on medical leave.”

  I didn’t argue.

  Fifty

  Enter Sandman

  I stood in the doorway to my home office wearing one of Mitch’s tee shirts and not much else. He was at my desk, with his back to the door. Watching him work made me smile. I stayed there for a few minutes. I could see the screens in front of him. He was writing a report, his report on Operation Tourist. Two steps closer and I could read the writing on one screen and see the graphs on the other. He was writing about how the hummingbird behaved on its first field test. He hadn’t left me since the helicopter crash.

  I was in the middle of a familiar and very comfortable scene. Déjà vu? Maybe.

  An element of fear crept in. I pushed it aside.

  As I walked toward him, he swung around to face me. Smiling. Heart stopping. Yep, he had a heart-stopping smile. Dimples. Sparkling eyes. I slid an arm around his shoulders and sat on his knee. Mitch’s arms wrapped around me, his voice ruffled my hair as he spoke, “You all right?”

  “Needed a hug.”

  “That I can do.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder, eyes closed, as his hands rubbed my back. Slowly I let go of everything and drifted into Mitch.

  “Are you falling asleep?” he whispered.

  “No,” I replied.

  His hand slipped under my tee shirt. Warm against my skin. Each stroke of his fingertips on my back caused a tingle in my spine. I wriggled a little.

  “I need to move,” I murmured. Wrong angle. It was not making my cracked ribs happy. I stood up and turned to face him.

  His smile melted me. Mitch’s hands held my waist as I straddled him in the chair. Bare legs against jeans. Wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in him. Drinking in his scent. Intoxicating. Ginseng and black pepper. Spicy but not overpowering. I could stay there forever.

  And I knew I would.

  Post-it notes

  Shades of black

  Distort the past

  None of it’s real

  Nothing will last

  Reminder to myself:

  Breathe

  Count to ten

  It’ll be okay

  No one has to die today

  Shades of orange

  Become the flames

  A city in ruins

  People maimed

  Reminder to myself:

  Breathe

  Count to ten

  You’ll be okay

  No one else will die today

  Shades of fear

  Filled with pain

  Erase the memory

  Make me sane

  Reminder to myself:

  Take a breath

  You’re not alone

  It’ll be okay

  Repeat after me:

  No one is going to die today

  Unload the gun

  Walk away

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to The Admins for wanting this story to exist and for insisting that it be based on our trip to D.C. (Just pointing out right now that we did not blow anything up!)

  Thank you to my fabulous editor, Jayne, at Rebel ePublishers for all her hard work and big thanks to Rebel for believing in me!

  Thank you to my family and friends for getting that I sometimes get lost inside the words and that I like it like that.

  About the Author

  Cat divides her time between her family, writing, and a retired racing greyhound, Romeo, who is her constant companion. Despite this, she has found the time to write twelve novels, including seven so far in The byte Series. She lives in New Zealand.

  Also by Cat Connor

  Databyte

  Soundbyte

  Flashbyte

  Exacerbyte

  Terrorbyte

  Killerbyte

  And for more from Cat Connor …

  Please turn the page for a preview of the next exciting book in the byte series, Psychobyte

  One

  Some Nights

  Parking behind a police cruiser, I squinted behind my sunglasses as the sun’s morning rays bounced off the hood of my Chevy Suburban. A female detective sporting a long dark ponytail and a Fairfax PD vest stood waiting out the front of an apartment.

  Her. She was in charge.

  I flung my door open, climbed out, dropped a lanyard over my head and adjusted the badge hanging from it. I reached through to the backseat and hauled out my backpack. With a flick of my foot the car door closed and the alarm chirped as I pushed a button on my keychain. The dark-haired woman looked over. Hoisting the bag over my right shoulder and pocketing my keys I walked across the grass toward her. She smiled an acknowledgment.

  “SSA Ellie Conway, FBI,” I said extending my hand.

  “Detective Troy Fallon, Fairfax PD,” she replied, taking my hand.

  “Did you make the call for FBI assistance?”

  She nodded. “That was me.”

  “Who made the initial 911 call?”

  “A co-worker of the deceased. Emilio Herrera.”

  The name rolled around in my head for a minute. Familiar. Good or bad? I gave it a second. Good. Emilio Herrera worked for us. Not us, us, but for the FBI. My brain slid images into place until it hit the right combination and put Herrera in context. Administrative Services Division.Human Resources. Now I knew why the early call to Delta; if the victim was a co-worker of Herrera’s then the crime was committed against a federal employee. I sighed without meaning to.

  “Give me a minute, Troy. I need to make a call.” With my phone in my hand I walked a few feet away and called Sandra at the office.

  “How can I help O Mighty Leader of Delta?” Sandra replied with her usual zest.

  “I’m on scene at a murder of a Federal Employee. I need you to contact HR and get two employee records released to Delta. Emilio Herrera and …” I stopped. “One sec.” I moved the phone away from my mouth and called out to Troy. “Victim’s name?”

  “Jane Daughtry,” she said.

  Not a name I recognized but that didn’t mean much.

  I smiled a thank you and carried on talking to Sandra. “Jane Daughtry, Sandra. She’s the victim. Also, Kurt, Lee and Sam?”

  “Lee and Sam are helping Delta B with an arrest. Kurt is in a meeting with the Chief.”

  Just me for now then. Okay. That’s fine.

  “Okay.”

  “You need backup?”

  “No. Got police on scene. I’m good.”

  “I’ll have those files waiting for you.” The familiar sound of her fingers tapping on her keyboard at breakneck speed punctuated Sandra’s words

  “Thanks.”

  I hung up and pocketed my phone before joining Troy again.

  “Everything okay?” she asked
.

  I nodded. “Is Herrera here?”

  “Yes. Talking to one of my officers.” She turned slightly and tipped her head to a marked car on the opposite curb. “We kept him here until you arrived.”

  That was an unnecessary statement. Kept him here? I doubt he would’ve left. He’s FBI. He knows the drill.

  “Give me a minute, I need a quick word with Mr. Herrera.”

  I strolled toward the marked car. Emilio clambered from the car and met me halfway.

  “Agent Conway.” Relief cocooned his words. “Thank God, you’re here.”

  “You all right?” I asked, noting his pallor. “They treating you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hang here. I’ll go see what’s what then we’ll talk.”

  “We carpool.” He wiped his hand across his watery eyes. “She’s always waiting out front when I arrive …”

  “She?”

  “Jane,” he said, his voice breaking. “Jane Daughtry.”

  “Tell me what happened when you arrived.”

  He sniffed, took a handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose and then began, “I arrived at seven. Parked there.” He pointed to his car. “Jane wasn’t out front. I went and knocked on the door. There was no answer.” He blew his nose again.

  “Take your time,” I said. “There was no answer?”

  “No answer. I went back to the car. I thought she was, you know, indisposed and would be out any minute.”

  “Of course.”

  “Ten minutes later, she was still not out. I called her cell phone. She didn’t answer and it went to voice mail eventually. I called her landline. Nothing.A few minutes later, I texted her. She didn’t reply. I got out of the car and walked around to the side of the house.” He pointed. “And that’s when I saw the windows were open and the flowers in the bed below one window were crushed.”

  “Did you see anyone at all when you arrived?”

  “No.”

  “You saw the crushed flowers and window open, then what?”

  “I listened and heard water running. I called out. No answer. I rang nine-one-one.”

  “Thank you, Emilio.”