by Ken Fite
Shapiro stared at me for a moment before speaking to Jami. “Davis, you’re coming with me,” he said, and Jami shook her head slowly.
Mallory returned with a guard, who walked over and brought us to our feet to separate us again.
FIFTY-NINE
MORGAN KEPT HIS eyes on the screen. “You don’t want to do that,” he said with a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“Pack up, Lennox. Let’s go,” Shapiro ordered.
Morgan raised his left hand in a stop right there kind of motion and kept his right hand on the laptop’s keyboard, looking up at Shapiro before his eyes returned to the keyboard. He brought his hand back down to the laptop, finished typing a command, and hit enter.
“I had a feeling this would happen. Those coordinates I gave you earlier weren’t accurate,” he said.
“What the hell are you doing?” Shapiro barked.
Mallory looked at Morgan, then turned back to Landry and Shapiro to get their reaction.
“In addition,” continued Morgan, “I’ve just spent the last few minutes deploying a worm with a highly complex spread algorithm into your network that by now should be fully propagated into your system. Thank you very much, Agent Mallory, for the detailed information on your security, by the way.”
Mallory stared at him. “You’re good, but not that good.”
Landry crossed his arms. “You’re bluffing, Lennox.”
“Alright then, mate,” said Morgan as I watched him type a command into his laptop. The lights in the entire building went out for five seconds. All I could see during the short blackout was Morgan’s grin illuminated by the laptop screen. He was enjoying this.
The look on Landry’s face when the lights came back on was priceless. He had underestimated Morgan.
“I’ve set an internal timer. When it goes off, the worm—which has already spread to every file, every device, anything connected to your network as of five minutes ago—will start corrupting everything. The entire Chicago office will be brought to its knees. Unless I enter the override code. My insurance policy, just in case you try to do something to me before that time,” Morgan said and gave Mallory a wink.
Roger Shapiro stepped forward. “Do you realize what you’re doing? Coercing a government agency through unauthorized access to one of their networks with the intent to alter or erase data, it’s considered a Class B felony with up to five years in prison. Are you prepared to spend the next five years of your life behind bars for what you’re about to do?”
“First of all, it’s not unauthorized access. Agent Mallory logged me into the Bureau’s network when I got here. I didn’t hack in, the door was wide open, and I was invited in. Second, I technically haven’t done anything—yet.”
Jami and I looked at each other as we realized where Morgan was going with this.
“The senator will very likely be elected to the presidency. I feel compelled to make sure he’s found safely. Blake Jordan knows the man better than any of you. He’s as much of a pain in my ass as you all are, but he’s the only one I believe can get Keller back. You honor the arrangement you agreed to with him. You let Jordan run this operation, and when he gets the senator back, I’ll activate the deletion of the worm.”
Landry stared at Morgan. “Backups are made every thirty minutes. We have extra equipment we can hand out to our agents. We can even run this operation out of DDC if we need to,” Landry countered.
“Yes, but that will take time and the clock is ticking. And as far as DDC goes, I placed a copy of the worm on their central drive. I’m still logged into their network, you know.”
Morgan had thought of everything. I wasn’t surprised by his drive to do the right thing, no matter what. He knew I could get Keller back alive. I was glad to have him on my side.
Landry hesitated for a few seconds and then finally addressed me. “What do you need?”
“Give me my gun. I’ll need ammo, my badge. I want new phones for Agent Davis and me. An audio kit with a comm unit for us to communicate with Lennox and direct access to him at all times. We’re also gonna need a car,” I said.
“We’ll get everything ready for you. Original plan—you’ll run this. Mallory stays with Lennox. I still want Mallory involved in everything. The second we think you’re taking this operation in the wrong direction, we take back control of the wheel.” Landry looked at Mallory, who then turned to me. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I need you to stay the hell out of my way.”
SIXTY
VICTOR PEREZ YELLED into his cell phone. “Where is he?” the kidnapper asked. His plan was falling into place, but there was one more thing he needed for tonight’s performance to have the full effect. “I’ll meet him outside,” he said and slid the phone into his back pocket after disconnecting the call. “Five minutes,” Perez said to the woman.
She was in one of the bedrooms, looking after the senator. Perez entered the room to check on them.
“How is he?” Perez asked.
“He’ll be fine. He’s stabilized now,” the woman said. Keller was resting on a bed with his wrists secured to each side with zip ties. The woman had a bowl of ice water in her lap and a wet rag that she squeezed before placing it on Keller’s forehead. “I’m just trying to reduce his fever.”
“We need him conscious for the broadcast. It won’t be long now.”
She nodded. “He should be ready.”
“What are the options should Keller fall unconscious again?”
The woman looked up at Perez. “I can give him another shot of epinephrine. There’s some danger in administering two doses so closely together, but if we don’t need him alive much longer, it won’t matter. We should be fine.”
“I have to step outside for a few minutes. If anything changes, come get me,” he said to the woman while looking over Keller. The senator was sweating badly and looked like he could go into shock at any moment. The original plan was for the woman to join him at the warehouse after her shift ended at the prison and bring some medication with her in case he needed it. But bringing Keller to her ended up being a better plan, anyway.
Perez walked through the house, inspecting each room as he passed through. He hadn’t been here in months, but it was just like he remembered the place. This was where he’d get his revenge. Plan B.
The large family room had become an improvised broadcast studio. Perez had been setting up the lighting equipment so he could air a clear, crisp image of the senator begging for his life before his execution. Although the world would be watching, the performance was really for an audience of one—Blake Jordan.
He headed to the front door and walked outside. It was late afternoon, and in just under two hours, the sun would be down and the show would be on. The temperature was dropping and the wind picked up. Perez didn’t like last minute changes. He preferred to make a plan and follow it. The change of venue threw him off at first, but he was starting to adjust. Now if he just had the last thing he needed, he’d be set.
A few minutes later, he saw movement through the trees scattered all around the property and down the road. A car was approaching the house. He put a hand on his Beretta just in case it wasn’t the company he was expecting. The driver lowered his window and stuck a hand out to wave at Perez.
The car pulled into the driveway and parked. A young man stepped out and closed the door.
“Aasaal Nazir sent me,” the man said.
Victor Perez looked him over before speaking. “Why did it take you so long to get here?” he said, and the man started to look nervous.
“All of the roads are shut down. There were checkpoints everywhere. I had to take back roads just to get here and I almost got caught.”
Perez looked past the man, scanning the surrounding area. “Were you followed?”
The man shook his head. “No, I was careful and followed all of the directions given to me by Nazir.”
“Very well. Did you bring me what I asked for?”
Th
e young man nodded. “Come look for yourself,” he said, and Perez followed the man to the back of the car. He popped the trunk and slowly lifted it up and the two men stared inside.
“Good work,” Perez said before he brought the Beretta to the young man’s back, pulled the trigger, and watched him fall to the ground. Perez holstered the gun and grabbed the man’s arms and dragged him to the side of the house. When he returned to the car, he looked at his prize possession.
Now the plan is complete.
SIXTY-ONE
AGENT MALLORY HANDED me the keys to one of their SUVs. “It’s been prepped with everything you asked for,” he said and walked Jami and me to the elevator, and we took it down to the ground floor. Similar to DDC, their agents parked in a heavily guarded and monitored area within the building for safety concerns. I was surprised to see that the vehicle they gave us looked exactly like mine. Standard issue, I thought to myself.
Mallory left as Jami and I climbed in. We had been given our guns back upstairs. Jami got her old badge back and I was issued one from the FBI. I placed a test call to my dad with one of the two phones. He didn’t pick up. I looked at Jami’s phone, found the number, and called so she’d have my number, too.
“Morgan, do you copy?” I asked as Jami and I put our earpieces in.
“Copy,” he replied. “Take Madison east to North Ogden. We’re watching.”
I looked at Jami. He was letting us know that he and the FBI were tracking us. “Copy that,” I responded.
We left the parking garage and sped down Madison. I saw Jami looking out the passenger window. She leaned forward and looked in the mirror, then turned around and looked out the back window of the SUV.
“We’re being followed,” she said. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a car trailing us at a distance. They were easy to spot with no traffic on the streets.
“I knew they wouldn’t give us too long of a leash,” I said.
Jami looked at me. “What are we going to do?”
I turned to Jami, then looked back at the road before responding, “Not give them a reason to take over,” I said as I picked up speed on Ogden, trying not to waste any time.
“Okay, Blake. Turn east on Chicago Avenue,” we heard Morgan say as we drove over Interstate 90.
“Where do you think he’s taking us?”
“Downtown,” I answered as I saw Jami look out the passenger window, where we could see the skyscrapers that appeared at the top of the overpass. We made a right on Chicago and raced through midtown as we saw the downtown buildings getting closer as we approached.
When we got on the bridge to drive over the Chicago River, Morgan made contact again. “Left at Wabash, right at Pearson.”
“Copy that,” I answered.
I knew this area well. I had proposed to Maria not too far from here, at Navy Pier. Earlier that same day, I’d taken her to the theater on Michigan and Pearson. It was one of her favorite things to do.
“Blake? Are you okay?” Jami asked, and I nodded, becoming fully present again. A few seconds later, we heard Morgan’s voice.
“Stop, Blake, you’re there.”
I parked the vehicle across the street from a Macy’s under a row of huge oak trees that lined the street. We were in the Streeterville neighborhood, just east of Michigan Avenue, close to the historic Water Tower. We sat still to get our bearings and come up with a plan. The streets that would normally be bustling with Magnificent Mile shoppers and tourists was now deserted because of the citywide curfew.
“Are you sure this is it? There’s nothing here. I don’t see any apartments anywhere,” I said.
Morgan came back on. “I’m sure, Blake. The files were created within a twenty-yard radius from your current location.”
Jami and I stepped out of the car and looked around. There was a park to the south of us next to the Water Tower and a hotel across the street.
“The Ritz-Carlton?” asked Jami.
“Not sure, love.”
“When were the files created? Over a period of a few days or weeks?” she asked. We stood together on the side of the road, waiting for Morgan to confirm for us.
“Based on the creation dates, it’s looking like several months, Jami.”
“We’re going to try the hotel first,” I said as we walked across the empty street and stepped inside.
SIXTY-TWO
A MAN IN a suit and tie greeted us immediately.
“Good afternoon, may I help you, officers?” he asked from behind the concierge desk.
Jami spoke first. “We need your help. Do you have any guests here on extended stay?”
The man thought about it. “There’s a woman who’s been here for about two months. She just moved to the area and is trying to buy a house, from what I remember.”
“Anyone else?” asked Jami, and the man slowly shook his head.
“Not in recent memory, no. But I can check the reservation system just to be sure.” He started typing. “Yep, just the woman, she’s been here for sixty-two days now. Next closest is a couple at fourteen days. Newlyweds, I’ve helped answer questions for them a few times now. It’s been a while since we’ve had anyone staying here for long periods of time. A lot of cheaper options out there.”
“Are there any apartments or condos close to here?” I asked.
“Yes, actually. The Residences at Water Tower. It’s right next door, 180 Pearson. We have an agreement where they can use the Ritz’s concierge whenever they need anything, so I know many of the residents that live over there.”
“Has anyone new moved in over the last three to six months?” I asked.
The man brought a hand up to his chin to help him think. “A family moved in a few months ago. Lawyer. Nice guy. Very young kids.”
“Have you seen anything out of the ordinary?” asked Jami.
“Actually, about two weeks ago, I was working the overnight shift. Just before midnight, I saw a guy exit 180 wearing a janitor uniform. I hadn’t seen him before and I thought I knew all of the residents. I figured he was just here fixing something, but then he came back at eight in the morning right when I was getting off work. That blew my mind. Condos aren’t cheap downtown, even if you’re just renting. I haven’t seen him again, but I also haven’t worked an overnight since then, either.”
“Did you happen to get a name?” I asked.
“No, I only saw him that one time. It looked like he was in a hurry. If you talk to Bryant next door, he may know the guy. He’s the doorman over there.”
“What did he look like?” I pressed.
“Tall, Hispanic man, late thirties if I had to guess. Dark hair. Goatee. He walked right past me and didn’t even make eye contact. I remember him because I said hello and he didn’t respond. Like I said, I thought he was just here repairing something; otherwise I would have introduced myself. I was inside getting ready to leave when I saw him return and walk right back in.”
Jami and I looked at each other. It sounded like our guy.
“Thanks,” I said. Jami and I walked back outside.
“There it is,” Jami said and pointed at the words Residences at Water Tower above the entrance.
“You’re there, Blake. You’re in range now,” Morgan said and I realized he was tracking us by our cell phones, not the FBI’s vehicle they had given us. Good to know, I thought.
“Morgan, we have a description. Hispanic male, late thirties, lives at 180 Pearson. I need you to run a check and let me know if you can find a name for any new residents,” I said.
“On it,” Morgan replied.
Jami and I approached the revolving door. I pushed, but it wouldn’t budge. I noticed a slot to the right of the door to insert a keycard. I looked inside and saw the doorman sitting at a desk. When he saw me, he shook his head to let me know he wouldn’t be letting me inside. “Residents only,” he said.
“My name is Blake Jordan. I’m a federal agent—open this door!” I yelled and showed him my badge.
SIXT
Y-THREE
THE YOUNG MAN pressed a button and I felt the revolving door lock release. A few seconds later, Jami and I were inside the lobby.
“I’m Agent Jordan. This is Agent Davis. We need your help locating a man—Hispanic, late thirties, facial hair. He works overnight shifts as a janitor. You may have seen him leaving late at night or returning around eight in the morning.”
The man looked confused. “A janitor?”
I noticed he was biting his lip as he slowly shook his head. “I don’t know who that is,” he said, but I could tell by his body language he was keeping something from me.
“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”
The man didn’t say anything.
“Why are you lying to me? What do you know about this man?” I asked.
He took a step back. “I was told not to give out any information on our tenants. This is a private residence.”
I took a step closer to him. “Do you think it’s strange that a janitor would live here?”
He didn’t respond.
“Do you know why there’s a curfew in place right now?” I asked.
“Of course, because of the kidnapping.”
“We’re trying to find the kidnapper. He might be here, in your building.”
He again shook his head and looked away; then he looked at Jami. “Look, I just open the door for residents when I see them walk up,” he said. “I don’t want to get involved in any of this.”
“What we’re doing is trying to find the man who kidnapped a United States senator—who will be executed soon unless we stop him. It’s too late for you not to get involved. Tell us what you know,” I said.
The doorman looked at Jami then back at me before speaking again. “Okay. I saw the man you described once or twice. He keeps odd hours. I don’t know his name or which condo he lives in, but I do know who you’re talking about. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“A few weeks, but again, I really don’t know a lot about the guy. I don’t even know his name.”
