Firewall

by DiAnn Mills

  “It’s the mother instinct.” Joe’s words took Grayson back to his mother’s sacrifice. He wasn’t ready to have Taryn do the same thing.

  Outside the building, hot September temps made it feel like they were walking into an oven.

  “What you’re suggesting is too dangerous,” Grayson said. “We’ve already learned Cameron Wallace is mixed up in this. He killed Murford, and we don’t know if he’s still in the country. The thing is, Wallace is a professional assassin, not a kidnapper.”

  “Not likely he’d be after her, but I’d feel better if we knew he’d left the good old US. Better yet, apprehended.” Joe turned to him in the car. “Did you have a chance to find out any of his past employers?”

  “A little. The last few years have kept him in Europe. But last summer he took out six leaders of a cartel in Venezuela, putting the largest drug lord in power. Our agents tracked him down when he arrived in the States a week ago. Facial recognition showed him coming through Reynosa. Then he disappeared.” Grayson, like many other agents, leaned toward a collaboration of homegrown and foreign terrorism, which meant who hired Wallace?

  “The question is, does he have more hits on his list?”

  “And who? Whoever’s in charge in New York has a big agenda,” Grayson said. “What I wouldn’t give to find the link from the software to the airport bombing.”

  “When are you going to share your own conclusions?”

  Grayson chuckled. “Soon. I have an idea brewing, but I hate being wrong. Agents are investigating my same thoughts, and I’m following them.”

  “Try me. What do you have to lose?” Joe tilted his head and gave Grayson his full attention. “Gut instincts never failed me.”

  Grayson changed lanes and toyed with his hunches. “When I get to thinking about who has the most to gain from an attempt to strike fear into the American public, lots of possibilities pop up. And we have enemies all over the world taking credit for the bombing, but the software is a side note. Especially now, since the seller is dead. When I lay that alongside what could happen if access to the software got into the wrong hands, the list narrows to a small window.”

  “As in another country that wouldn’t want us exporting LNG?”

  “On the West Coast it’s hard to say. On the East, it’s Russia. But they’re too smart to bomb an airport or implicate themselves.”

  “Taking us on in that capacity is ridiculous.” Joe scrolled through his BlackBerry. “We’d pull aid and they’d be hurting. I know it’s a possibility, but a useless venture in my opinion. My vote goes to the Middle East teamed up with someone in New York.”

  “Unless Russia hired someone to do their dirty work.”

  Joe frowned. “I still think it’s the Middle East.”

  “Stay with me, Joe. Who has the most to gain when oil prices go up or down?”

  “Oil and gas traders. You’re looking at two separate theories. No connect.”

  “Maybe.” Voicing his thoughts somehow lessened their credibility, but he wasn’t ready to let it go. “I spent most of the night—what was left of it—digging into other FBI investigations. If my thoughts are in left field, why are agents on that trail?”

  “I’ll need more to convince me. And I promise you, I’ll look into the same research, but right now I think you’re fishing.”

  “Go back to my original statement. Oil and gas traders stand to make money regardless of pricing. Most of them care only about the almighty dollar. So an unscrupulous trader sabotages the software designed to protect our infrastructure, and that person makes millions.”

  “I agree a trader on the prowl makes sense. But I suggest keeping the oil trader on the front burner and ice the involvement of Russia.”

  Grayson let the idea slide a notch. Joe hadn’t steered him wrong before. “Maybe you’re right. Our assignment has always been Taryn.”

  “Do you have any idea how her safety was compromised?”

  “Money can buy anything. I’d feel better if I had a few more puzzle pieces. Regarding the note she received, I’m afraid Zoey’s not alive. Think about a three-year-old—crying, whining, hungry. Not good.” He’d not admit the same thing to Taryn.

  Joe nodded. “Do you want to take the chance?”

  “What do you think? Taryn would walk into the pits of hell if we asked her. I’ve expected a call from Clint or Patti that she’s walked away from FBI protection.”

  “Don’t you think it makes sense for us to lead the way than have her take off on her own?”

  Grayson hated it when Joe was right, but the wheels began to turn. A plan formed in his mind, a way to stage Taryn that looked like she’d left the safety net of the FBI, beginning with bringing her back to the office. He shared his idea and Joe added a few details.

  “It seems risky to me. But the advantage is we’d have her covered.”

  “I can’t believe I’m suggesting it, but it beats her striking out on her own,” Grayson said. “Before we get to the retirement community, would you read the latest updates? Might change our path forward.”

  Joe read from his BlackBerry. “A congressman’s aide confessed to leaking the information about Nehemiah to the media after Taryn was listed as a person of interest in the bombing. No evidence of the industry and manufacturing companies in the States being behind the problem at Gated Labs.”

  “The money behind this operation is astronomical. Looks to me like several companies would need to pool funds to pull it off.” It also fed into Grayson’s thoughts about Russia, but he’d not bring it up again.

  “Nothing from the bomb’s remains point to a particular source.” Joe stared out the window. “We all know the bomber would place the source elsewhere. Some sources doubt if the incident at Gated Labs is tied to the airport bombing.”

  “My instinct says it is.”

  “Oh, I know your theory. Whoa,” Joe said. “We picked up Haden Rollins at the Westin Oaks. Confiscated his burner phone.”

  “Interesting. Hope they can crack him so we won’t have to put Taryn’s life in danger. But I’m probably dreaming.”

  4:35 P.M. THURSDAY

  While Taryn rode to the FBI office in the backseat of Grayson’s Mustang with Buddy beside her and Joe in the front, she listened to Grayson’s proposal. “Yes. Wire me up. I want to get started as soon as we get to the office.”

  “Are you physically up to it?” Grayson said.

  Her health wouldn’t stop her. “Explain every detail again so I have it in my head.”

  “We want to make this look like you’re deserting the FBI to comply with the kidnapper. We’ll set up a scene outside the office to show our mutual dissatisfaction.”

  “I’m getting good at stepping out of my geek box.” She laughed while her insides whirled.

  “We might be able to get a little media support if you’re wanting to go that far,” Grayson said. “I could manage a leak—unofficial, of course. You’d have a rental car with a concealed tracking device. The car would have to be torn apart to find it. And you’d have a special implant for us to know where you are.”

  She’d seen a few movies with those things. “As in buried beneath the skin?”

  “Yes.”

  She willed her headache to cease. “Is it also a recording device?”

  “No. Taryn, this is a serious risk factor. We’ll be monitoring your location and closing in on the kidnapper. Your phone has the same device. In other words, we’ll have your back, but we can’t stop anyone from pulling a trigger.”

  A flash of how the retirement center had been compromised caused a catch in her spirit. “How easy would it be to detect?”

  “Difficult without specific equipment. And considering your two trips to the hospital, any lesions could be explained away. One more thing. I want to show you a photo of the man who killed Murford. He’s the hired assassin, a good one. We don’t believe the bad guys want you dead, but you need to be familiar with him.”

  Grayson handed her his BlackBerry with
a photo of the man. She studied the assassin’s square jaw, dark eyes, and heavy brows. “Name? Habits?”

  “Cameron Wallace. Think chameleon. Known for his disguises. The photo we have of him entering Reynosa shows him with black hair.”

  After committing the face to memory, she returned the phone. “So it’s quite probable he changed his looks?”

  “His appearance at the border could have been to throw off law enforcement.” Grayson sighed. She sensed his wariness with the plan.

  The only choice was also the right choice. “I’m on board. We’re battling time because Save thinks he’s nearly there in discovering access to the software.” She hesitated. “But it will take time before he gets through the encryptions or to the point where the virus attaches to his system.”

  “Clarify that for me,” Grayson said. “You’re saying he could bypass the false front?”

  “Yes, at the point where it looks like he has entrance, but it contains a virus that will shut down his system. I’m not flawless, and he could be prepared, but I don’t want to take the chance. Get it arranged now, Grayson. How long will it take?”

  “By the time the rental car arrives, we can put the plan in motion. Joe and I will do a quick interview with Haden, then let other agents take over there.”

  “Okay, what else?”

  “There’s a restaurant close to the office, and we’ll set the argument there.”

  Every moment wasted ticked at Zoey’s life. “Where will you and Joe be?”

  “We’ll be with the surveillance team. You’ll always be in our sights.”

  The reassurance calmed her. “Thanks.”

  Grayson made a call. The arrangements sounded . . . clinical, and a wisp of fear settled on her. “In place,” he said a few moments later. “We’ll rehearse the plan while waiting on the rental.”

  “Is there a way to take Buddy?”

  “Aw, Taryn.” Joe turned to her. “If those guys care less about human life, what’s an animal?”

  The truth had a way of sending glass shards into open wounds. “You’re right. If something happens, don’t send him to the pound. Okay?”

  “I’ll take Buddy myself.” Joe reached behind the seat and took her hand. “If I were thirty years younger, I’d be sweeping you off your feet. You’re my hero, little lady.”

  If only she felt like one.

  CHAPTER 50

  5:05 P.M. THURSDAY

  Grayson and Joe stood outside the interview room where Haden Rollins waited. They studied his body language, viewed his slumped shoulders.

  “Look how many times he’s swallowed,” Joe said.

  “Right.” Rollins’s tense facial muscles indicated his fear. He should’ve known they were observing him.

  With a legal pad tucked under his arm, Grayson opened the door, wishing he could monitor Taryn at the same time. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rollins.”

  His gaze narrowed. “If it isn’t Special Agent Hall and a different sidekick.”

  “I’m the old guy who’s experienced in nailing the guilty ones.” Joe smiled. “So I’ll sit back and watch while you confess to stealing Gated Labs software and setting up at least three people for murder.” Joe pulled out a chair, not once losing eye contact with Rollins. “I’d like to tack on terrorism for the airport bombing, but you’ll need to fill in a few blanks.”

  Rollins startled. “Hold it. I’m not taking the blame for all those crimes.”

  Grayson tossed his legal pad and pen on the table. “Why don’t you begin by telling us what you are responsible for?”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  “Sure,” Grayson said. “We can pose the same questions in front of him.”

  Rollins crossed his arms. “Not a word from me.”

  “Poor Kinsley.” Grayson jotted the word lawyer in big letters on his legal pad.

  “Why? What happened?” Rollins stiffened. “Is she all right?”

  Grayson raised a brow. “Didn’t you hear?” He stared at Rollins and counted to five before responding. “Her family and friends are unable to find her. We figured you’d killed her, too.”

  Rollins moistened his lips. “Kinsley is innocent of any of this.” At the mention of her name, his voice softened.

  They were onto something. “Did you use her for your own purposes?”

  Rollins shook his head. “I’m not answering your questions until I talk to a lawyer.”

  Grayson tapped the top of the desk with his pen. “We could find her and keep her safe if you’d cooperate.”

  He rubbed his palms. “You mean without a lawyer?”

  “With or without.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone. That wasn’t my job. I doubt the airport bombing was a part of the plan. Probably two separate situations.” He scratched his chin. “But I can’t figure out where it’s all headed.”

  Grayson nodded, silently offering sincerity. “I can understand how you wouldn’t want to take the blame for something you knew nothing about. Especially with so many dead. What was your job?”

  He hesitated, no doubt thinking through pulling the lawyer card. “To secure Nehemiah. Taryn had this tight hold on the project, and I couldn’t access it.” His knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists. “I pursued Kinsley, and when I gained her confidence, I worked toward having her replace Taryn as lead developer.”

  “Murford hired you?”

  “Thought he did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Murford approached me, but I’d already been hired by someone else to keep an eye on him.”

  Finally they were getting somewhere. “Who?”

  Rollins no longer had the pretty-boy confidence. “Four people from the original team are dead, and I figure I’m on her list too. But I don’t want Kinsley to be next.”

  So he loved the woman, at least in his own way. “We’ll do all we can to keep her from being harmed.”

  “She’s the only thing I care about. I think this person has eyes everywhere.”

  “Is this person in New York City?”

  He whispered yes, then shook his head. “No.”

  “Haden, where is this person? We have to know everything to stop the killing and investigate the possibility of a link to the airport bombing.”

  A streak of fear flashed across his eyes. “What about witness protection?”

  First Pedraza and now Rollins. “If necessary and we recommend it.”

  “Could Kinsley go with me?”

  “If she’s still alive.” Grayson stared into his eyes. “Witness protection may not be her choice.”

  “I couldn’t blame her,” Rollins said. “Especially when she finds out the truth.”

  Grayson jotted his request on the legal pad and circled it. “So what have you done for this person in New York?”

  “I followed orders, like having Murford think he was the boss.”

  “What else?”

  “I was an expensive gofer in a three-piece suit, and my checks were deposited into a Tokyo account.” Rollins glanced away. “She’s furious Murford didn’t deliver the software, but I never thought he’d end up dead.”

  “Have you killed anyone?”

  Rollins pressed his palms against the table. “No one. That’s the dividing line.”

  “What’s her plan B?”

  “She hired a hacker. According to her, he should have Nehemiah working tonight. She’s obsessed with gaining control of the software. Twofold plan: blow up the LNG pipes, which causes prices to rise, and sell the software to the highest bidder.” He paused. “But I doubt that it all happens her way. Taryn had layers of encryption.”

  “What’s the woman’s name?”

  “She’s an oil and gas trader on Wall Street.”

  Just as Grayson and other agents had speculated. “She stands to make millions by manipulating oil and gas prices. Who is she, Haden?”

  He swallowed hard. “Iris Ryan. She’s staying at the Westin, where you picked me up. At least she was. Probably gon
e by now.”

  “Why blow up the airport?”

  Haden shrugged. “Not sure she lit the fuse on that one.”

  6:00 P.M. THURSDAY

  Taryn had performed her best acting job with Grayson for their shouting match in the restaurant parking lot. She’d snatched the rental car keys from him and tossed him onto the ground before taking off, leaving him in feigned pain and anger. Hopefully tonight’s news didn’t focus on an FBI agent being deflated by a woman terrorist. Not exactly a boost for his ego.

  An e-mail from Save came through just as she left the parking lot, and she forwarded it to Grayson. Save thought he’d gotten through all the layers when something changed, and it was like he was back at square one. Assuming he managed to get through the firewall and attempted to test his ability to regulate temperature and pressure of the liquid natural gas, a virus would destroy his system. Unless he discovered her virus first and figured out how to bypass it.

  The deadline was tomorrow morning at six. Who would be killed once the time arrived? Taryn feared Zoey didn’t have a chance either way.

  Panic clawed at her, but she’d not give in to its power. She’d offer the same thing she’d done with Murford—a partnership in developing software for whatever they demanded.

  She’d not back down now. Wearing the implant injected into her upper left hip, she’d do exactly what the kidnapper wanted to deal for Zoey. She drove north on I-45 toward Huntsville because she had no clue where else to drive. Maybe the kidnapper was still close to the state park and assumed she’d head there first. Her attempt to draw him or her out could be pointless, but she sensed someone watching her every move, and it wasn’t just the FBI. Could that person be the man or woman who held Zoey? Or simply paranoia? She peered into the rearview mirror for a vehicle tailing her. Nothing. So many things in her life were unsettled.

  Kinsley Stevens . . . Grayson said contacting her wasn’t wise, but Taryn believed differently, and the burner phone lay on the console. She couldn’t change her unsociable ways of the past, but she could make amends if she didn’t have tomorrow. Remembering Kinsley’s cell phone number, she pressed it in. The young woman answered on the third ring.