Evarts grabbed Matthews’s elbow and led him into the living room. “Rick, are you willing to help me find Trish?”
“I’m insulted you felt the need to ask.”
“These are very dangerous people. This is strictly a volunteer mission.”
“I’m in. Do you want me to round up a few others?”
“First, let’s create a plan.” Evarts looked at Harding, still pacing in the kitchen. “Steve can handle himself now. I’ll fill you in on the details after I make a call.”
Evarts called Congressman Sherman’s private cell.
“Yes?” Sherman sounded very irritated.
“Evarts. They grabbed Baldwin.”
“What? Who?”
“The goddamn union, who else? They drugged her bodyguard and took her.”
“What about the documents?”
“Who the hell cares about the documents? They’ve got Trish.”
“Don’t you understand? Without the documents, my plan goes up in smoke.”
“Well, it’s blown to smithereens. I haven’t been back to the house, but I’m sure they wouldn’t have left them behind.”
The phone went quiet.
Finally, Evarts asked, “What are you going to do?”
The answer came immediately. “Collect my family and get the hell out of here. Good-bye.” He hung up.
Chapter 52
Evarts had the most fitful night of sleep of his life and gratefully rolled out of bed at first light. Matthews woke early as well and kept him company in his anxious vigil. A few hours later, Harding wandered into the front room, but he remained unusually quiet.
Harding seemed to have recovered most of his faculties. Now it was Evarts’s turn to pace the small kitchen. He felt impotent. He had wanted to charge over to Harding’s home the prior evening, but his friends convinced him it would be a mistake. Instead, Evarts had briefed Matthews on the entire history since Santa Barbara, and they had talked over alternatives. They could come up with no action they could take until the union contacted them. Assuming they would.
That was the part that worried Evarts. He possessed only a single original document from the William Evarts dossiers. Was it enough? They had blunted Congressman Sherman’s political assault and most probably had picked up all the copies from Harding’s house. Did he still pose enough of a threat that they would contact him, or would they just dispose of Patricia Baldwin and discredit him in some way? The Rock Burglar episode certainly showed they used means other than violence.
Despite a light breakfast, Evarts’s stomach felt sour and bloated from too much coffee and nervous agitation. He walked around the counter to the tiny eating area where Harding and Matthews sat silent at a small table. “Rick, you’ve got tons of computer gear in that extra bedroom. Does any of that equipment give you access to secure government files?”
“I have access to everything, including stuff I’m not supposed to know exists. What do you want to research?”
“Hell if I know, but I’ve got to do something. Maybe some agency has an ongoing investigation of the union or Ralph Branger.”
Matthews gave him a sympathetic look. “I checked while you were in the shower. Nothing except for Branger’s tax records. He consistently reports an eight-figure income, and there’re no audits pending. On paper, he looks to be an upright guy.”
“Shit.” Evarts pulled over a chair and sat down at the table. “What else can we look at?”
‘There’s so much material on the drug cartels that it would take months just to sift through it.”
“The union?”
“No references.”
Harding cleared his throat. “Greg, I’m—” He choked. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve—”
“Steve, I understand,” Evarts said. “It’s not your fault. I was the stupid one. I thought your place would be safe because I haven’t lived there in years. I was the idiot.”
“But I should’ve known better than to take her out of the house.”
“Steve, right now, I need you. We’ve got to get her back and self-recriminations won’t help.” Evarts was angrier than his words indicated. What he had said was true, but logic didn’t overrule emotions. At least not this day. He knew it could have been him as easily as Harding. After all, he had visited the gym with Baldwin several times, but he had put the most precious thing in his life in the hands of a trusted friend, and that friend had failed him. Reason had nothing to do with how he felt.
Evarts changed the subject. “Rick, can you penetrate private corporate records?”
“Sure, with time. Which ones?”
Rick Matthews’s specialty in army intelligence had been cracking computer systems and wireless communications. He knew more about cell phones than practically anyone on the planet, which was why his second bedroom looked like an electronic junkyard, with computers and communication gear strewn everywhere. Most of the devices were in some stage of disassembly, and Evarts found it hard to believe that Matthews knew which ones were operational.
“Confederated Trust. I heard on television that some guy named McGuire is CEO.”
“That’s J. C. D. McGuire, a legend in the investment banking world. This should be fun. I always wanted to—”
Harding’s cell phone rang.
They all just stared at it. On the third ring, Evarts picked it up and checked the caller ID, but it said “restricted.” He opened the phone and put it to his ear but said nothing.
After a moment, a husky voice said, “There’s a package for you at Harding’s house. Go pick it up.”
The caller disconnected.
“What did they say?” The question came from Harding, who had finally come out of his daze.
“They left something at your house, and they want me to go pick it up.”
“A trap?” Matthews asked.
“We should proceed on that assumption,” Evarts said.
Harding went into the kitchen and poured himself more coffee. When he stepped back into the living room, he said, “We’ll get her back. They’re not supermen. They already made one big mistake.”
“What’s that?” Evarts asked.
“They left me alive.”
Chapter 53
That afternoon, they approached the Georgetown brownstone from three different directions. Harding jumped a neighbor’s fence and entered from the rear through his garden. Matthews scaled a trellis on an adjoining house and leaped onto Harding’s roof. Evarts intended to approach the front door directly. On the way over, they had stopped at a RadioShack and improvised a makeshift communication system. Evarts waited around the corner until his friends called to say they were in position.
He heard Harding’s voice first. “I’m in position and see no threats through the kitchen window.”
“In position,” Matthews answered. “Their surveillance point is across the street at 347 on the third floor. I see a man in the window with binoculars.”
They had discussed the possibility of Matthews’s spotting the surveillance from his rooftop vantage. Evarts heard Harding say, “Plan B.”
Plan B called for them to take out the surveillance team and apprehend at least one of the men alive. Unfortunately, Plan B had no course of action except that Harding and Matthews would withdraw, and then they would all meet to figure out how to catch the watchers by surprise. The three had talked through several scenarios but had no firm plan.
They met at a rendezvous point in a pocket park two blocks away. Evarts asked Harding, “Do you know that house?”
“Yeah. Two years ago they converted it into apartments. The third floor has three or four studios.”
“Security?”
“Buzz-in entry. Roof’s probably secure. Best bet is to come in from the back.”
“Or get a neighbor to buzz us in,” Matthews offered.
“There’s an old woman in the ground-floor unit. She owns the building and had it converted after her husband died.”
“Does she know you?” E
varts asked.
“Yeah, but if I approach the building, I’ll alarm the observation team.”
They had previously decided that if they spotted a surveillance nest, Harding would become the diversion, and Matthews would act as point person in the assault. They hadn’t decided on a role for Evarts.
“Wait a minute,” Harding said. “Her husband was a dean at Georgetown. What if Rick pretended he had some personal item from her husband to return to her?”
“What item?” Evarts asked. They had nothing but weapons and communications gear.
“This,” Matthews said. He took off his watch and handed it to Harding. “It’s inscribed on the back: ‘From the gang, good luck.’ I can say they found it in his old office or somewhere, and we think it might be her husband’s.”
“That gets you in,” Evarts said. “Then what?”
“I can handle whatever’s in that room upstairs, if you two can keep them glued to the window.”
Evarts didn’t like Matthews going in alone, but he knew his capabilities, and he would be a stranger to the watchers. He also had the only silenced weapon, something he had appropriated from a hostile combatant when he was in the army.
“All right,” Evarts said. “They know both of us, so we’ll walk the block on alternate sides like we’re casing the house before entering. Use the walkie-talkie to tell us when you’re out of her apartment and on the stairs. Sure you can get through the studio door?”
“I haven’t forgotten all my training. Let’s go.”
As Matthews approached the converted townhouse, Harding took a circuitous route around the block so that when the time came, he could approach from a different direction than Evarts. Splitting the watchers’ eyes between the two of them would create a better diversion.
It seemed like an eternity before Evarts heard Matthews in his earpiece. “I’m climbing to the second floor.”
“Hold,” Evarts said. He had kept out of sight over a block away. “I’ll be in position in two minutes. Steve?”
“Ready.”
“She took the damn watch,” Matthews whispered.
“I’ll get it back for you later,” Harding said.
“In position,” Evarts said.
He turned onto Harding’s street and made a show of looking into cars and at windows. He saw Harding approach him on the opposite side of the street. Their behavior should look normal. They had been ordered to the house, but the union knew they had professional training and wouldn’t just barge in the front door. Hopefully, the watchers would stay behind curtains and track them as they reconnoitered. Everything depended on timing. Both he and Harding passed his townhouse and pretended not to notice each other.
Evarts had reached the end of the block and turned back toward the townhouse when he heard Matthews’s voice in his ear. “Mission accomplished. I’ll buzz you up.”
Evarts resisted an urge to run back up the block. Harding arrived first and waited for him. Without pushing the button, they heard the door buzz and entered the building. When they got to the third-floor apartment, the door was closed. They crouched on either side of the door and drew their weapons. They couldn’t rule out that Matthews had been forced to give them the all-clear message. Evarts took hold of the door handle and twisted it slightly to verify that it was unlocked. Then he nodded to Harding, and they burst through the door.
“Hi, boys,” Matthews said, pleased with himself. Matthews had two men trussed up on the floor, with duct tape over their mouths.
“Have you decided which one to kill and which one to interrogate?” Evarts asked.
“Not yet. But I think they’ll cooperate. They told me there’s nothing in Harding’s house except a package.”
“Do you believe them?” Harding asked.
“Yeah, they said they were only assigned to call after you got the package. These guys are rent-a-thugs. Evidently the pros cleared out once they grabbed Baldwin.”
“Rip the tape off,” Evarts ordered.
Matthews picked the closest guy and tore the tape from his mouth.
After yelping, the man immediately started talking as fast as he could. “Please, this was supposed to be an easy gig. Just ask us anything. We’ll tell ya what we know.”
“Let me explain,” Evarts said evenly. “I have a nasty background. I’ve been trained to take people like you apart. Your employers grabbed the only woman I’ve ever cared about. I’m telling you this because I want you to know I’m capable and motivated. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The one still taped nodded his head vigorously.
“Good. Who hired you?”
“A man named Greg Evarts, but I doubt that was his real name.”
Bastards, Evarts thought. “How did they contact you?”
“They mailed us that cell phone.” He nodded toward Matthews, who took a cell phone out of his pocket.
“I already checked,” Matthews said. “Only one number in the directory.”
“What were your instructions?”
“Watch the house and call that number when you entered. They sent photos of you two with the phone.”
Evarts had already spotted the surveillance photographs on the table by the window. “How were you to be paid?”
“Wire transfer to an account number that we gave them when they explained the assignment.”
“Have you ever seen any of the people who hired you?” Evarts already knew the answer to that question.
“No. Honest. Only the name … Greg Evarts.”
Evarts made a signal, and the three of them retreated to the opposite side of the room. “What do you think?” he whispered.
“They don’t know shit. Amateurs.” Matthews sounded disdainful.
“I agree,” added Harding.
“Any other questions you guys can think of?”
Both shook their head no.
Evarts walked back to the captives. “What’s in the package?”
“We don’t know. We didn’t plant it.”
“A bomb?”
“No. We were supposed to call again after you exited the house. They wanted to know if you appeared angry or grim or whatever. They seemed anxious to—”
Evarts didn’t hear the end of the sentence because he had charged out of the apartment and barreled down the stairs.
Chapter 54
Evarts fumbled with the lock on the door to Harding’s townhouse. When he finally got the door open, he saw a Best Buy shopping bag tucked in the corner of the entry. He ignored the bag and raced through the rest of the house, dreading that he might find Baldwin’s body. He found nothing new or threatening in the house except for the shopping bag. There were things missing, though. All their photocopies and notes had disappeared from the kitchen table, and Evarts didn’t see Baldwin’s laptop computer.
Evarts keyed the makeshift communication system. “House clear. There’s a shopping bag in the entry. Do you read?”
“Copy. Should I come over?” Harding answered.
Evarts decided he wanted the company. “Yeah. Make sure our guests are secure, and then both of you come over.”
Evarts went to the window and checked the street. Could the rent-a-thugs be a diversion? He saw nothing untoward. He watched Harding and Matthews casually cross the street and greeted them at the door. All three of them looked down at the bag.
“I don’t think it’s a bomb,” Matthews said.
Harding leaned forward and peeked inside. “Merchandise boxes. The top one looks like a digital camera.”
“Let’s take it into the kitchen.” Evarts wanted enough flat space to lay out the contents so they could all see.
In the kitchen, Harding reached into the bag and carefully extracted a box with “Canon” emblazoned on all four sides and placed it on the counter.
“Digital camera. The box has been opened,” Harding said.
“What else is in the bag?” Evarts asked.
Harding looked. “A disposable cell phone, the kind parents buy for
their teenagers. Plastic shell packaging, also opened. The sons of bitches threw in the register receipt.”
“Pull it out.”
After Harding extracted the cell phone, he said, “And a letter.” He handed the plain white envelope to Evarts. “It’s addressed to you.”
Evarts hesitated for a nanosecond and then ripped open the envelope. Someone had handwritten the message in block letters.
Look at the camera. You should recognize your work. We will trade Baldwin for original you took from DTCC. Use cell phone for instructions.
Evarts read the short note a second time. It told him a lot. He felt heartsick. He knew what must have transpired to force Baldwin to reveal that he had an original document in his possession. He handed the note to Harding. “They broke her.”
He reached for the camera box with an unsteady hand. He jockeyed the camera free from its Styrofoam brick, turned it on, and flipped the setting switch to view the stored pictures. Baldwin’s face filled the little screen on the back of the camera. She looked distraught and in pain. Damn them. The next picture showed only her bare thigh. The image conveyed an unmistakable message: She had been shot in the leg. The last photograph showed her full body with her hands tied behind her back. It was framed to show that the wounded leg belonged to Baldwin. Her helpless, frightened expression made Evarts want to throw the camera across the room. Instead he handed it to Harding and went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.
The Shut Mouth Society Page 30
