Point of Control

by L. J. Sellers

  “What’s wrong?” Jia was behind him again.

  He spun around and snapped, “Stop looking over my shoulder!”

  His wife recoiled, lips trembling, but didn’t walk away. “What’s going on that has you so worried?”

  “I’m sorry.” He scrambled to tell her something plausible and partially truthful. “I’m having trouble recruiting the tech people I need to meet our deadline for the new phone rollout.”

  She cocked her head. “So push back the deadline. You haven’t promised consumers anything yet.”

  But he had.

  “Have you?” She crossed her arms.

  “The media campaign kicked off two days ago. We have to condition the market.” Shawn hated having to explain himself, but he owed it to Jia. “Yes, the shortage will drive a lot of consumers to us, especially since we’re encouraging them to buy extra phones as a precaution against the future shortage. But people who love their iPhones and high-end Androids might still buy a used familiar product rather than switch.”

  “But in time, they’ll have to come to us.”

  “Unless China starts exporting again, or Apple or another major player comes up with their own new production material. Our competitors aren’t going down without a fight.”

  Arms crossed, Jia hugged herself.

  “Don’t worry. Maybe I’m just not offering enough salary to prospective employees. I’ll go back to the financiers and see if they’ll increase their equity.” He was still surprised that Bowman had refused his initial offer. A half million dollars for a month’s work? But the metallurgist hadn’t wanted to give up the intellectual property rights to his discovery—or the public acknowledgment. Shawn wanted the credit for himself, so he understood that.

  “I’ll do my best to master the encryption code before the deadline.” Jia gave him a worried smile and went back to work.

  Shawn checked his pulse. Over eighty again. He took another sip of vodka and hurried to the bedroom closet to dig out the ski mask he’d worn during the robbery. He pulled on a light jacket, stuffed the mask in a pocket, and headed out to his truck. He would visit Dana Thorpe in person and convince her to get off her ass and get it done. If money didn’t motivate her, he knew what would.

  At the mine, he drove to the back and parked beside the bunkhouse. He didn’t want to see the manager or deal with any production issues today. He especially didn’t want to hear any complaints about working on Sunday. There wouldn’t be any days off until the mine was producing at full capacity. He hurried inside the old wooden building and went straight back to the laundry room that contained the hidden trapdoor. After a glance around, he lifted the iron basin sink, stepped down onto a small landing, and yanked the trapdoor closed after him.

  He pounded down the stairs, then hurried through the dark connecting tunnel, the cool air clinging to him, its dampness tangible. He hated being down here and had a flash of guilt for keeping the experts underground. But it was no worse than many other windowless labs and workspaces, and at least they didn’t have emails or irritating coworkers to distract them. They weren’t being abused, and in the end, he would reward them with cash. Once he’d worked through all that, Shawn’s visceral response to the situation faded, and he was ready to do whatever was necessary to accomplish his goals.

  At the door to the old bomb shelter, he pulled on his ski mask, unlocked the entrance, and stepped inside. The dark concrete interior was as suffocating as always. He remembered his excitement when he’d discovered it, but that had worn off. Shawn stopped at the first door, stuck a key in the lock, and braced for the unexpected. Dana Thorpe had assaulted Uncle Tai that morning in an attempt to escape. She might try again. He opened the door and waited. But from the hall, he could see the woman on her narrow cot. She was on her back, unmoving except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

  Shawn stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Dana?”

  She sat up, perhaps surprised by the sound of an unknown voice, then recoiled at the sight of him.

  The ski mask. He’d simply meant to hide his face, but it would serve to intimidate her as well.

  “Who are you?” Her voice held a note of resignation, and her face looked almost white against her dark hair.

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you finish the work. You said the synthetic was only a few days from being ready. Why hold back? I’ll let you go as soon as it’s working.”

  “I can’t let you have it. I don’t trust you.”

  Taken aback, he sat down on a wooden stool, just out of her reach. “I just want to make electronics. What is there to trust?”

  “The new compound is so much more than that. We both know that’s why I’m here.”

  Shawn didn’t know what she was talking about, but he couldn’t admit it. “You have no choice. Do yourself and your son a favor. Get up and get to work.”

  Her eyes widened. “Leave my son out of this.”

  “I’d be happy to. But if you won’t produce what I need, I’ll bring your son here as motivation.” What was he saying? Another kidnapping? The thought unnerved him. But they’d gotten away with all of them so far. Now the FBI was so focused on North Korea, probably no one was looking for him anymore. Even if they were, none of the Washington properties, including the mine, were directly in his name. A holding company within a holding company that was based in Mexico. Nearly impossible to trace back to him.

  “No!” Dana Thorpe began to weep and lay down again.

  He wanted her up and working. “Do you need anti-depressants?”

  The scientist didn’t respond.

  Maybe he should bring her son here, just to invigorate her. “What do you need? Music? Lighting that mimics the sun?”

  “Just let me go.” She didn’t move.

  “I can’t do that until the compound is ready and I have the data to reproduce it.”

  Dana was silent.

  Her refusal to finish would really fuck up his plans. Rage reached into his chest and squeezed. “Get up!”

  Still on her back, Dana flinched, then rolled away from him.

  The little bitch. She didn’t believe he would kidnap her son. She didn’t understand the importance of what he was trying to accomplish. He would show her.

  Shawn strode from the room, hands shaking as he struggled to lock the door. He needed to calm the fuck down. After a deep breath, he rushed to the lab, wanting to see the sample she’d created but claimed wasn’t ready. On her workbench lay a thin two-inch strip of a silvery-green material that looked like water. He touched it and felt that it was solid. But then the color where his finger had pressed it started to change. That must be what Dana meant by “still a little unstable.” All right, so she had to perfect the formula. And if that meant using her son, he would. He was too close to making it all happen the way he’d envisioned.

  Shawn hurried back out of the lab. As he climbed the stairs to the bunkhouse, he remembered the call from Max. Oh fuck, he had to deal with Rocky too. What if he combined those things? He could take Rocky with him to kidnap Dana Thorpe’s son. They already knew where to find Garrett. Only this time, Rocky would get shot during the abduction, and Shawn would protect all of them by dumping his body. Harlan would buy that, wouldn’t he?

  Dana Thorpe would get back to work when she knew her son’s life was at stake.

  CHAPTER 33

  Monday, March 23, 8:15 a.m., Denver, Colorado

  Bailey found a row of empty seats at a quiet gate and plopped down. She plugged in her laptop, got online, and searched for Ellensburg again. Her two-hour layover had turned into a six-hour layover because she’d missed her connection after her first flight had been delayed. She’d already had a meal, taken a walk, and napped for a few minutes. Frustration wouldn’t get her to Seattle any faster, so she might as well get some work done.

  She read for an hour, lea
rning everything she could about the area, but nothing helped her pinpoint a location where a megalomaniac might keep people captive—while also possibly providing them with research space. Milton Thurgood was either long dead or voluntarily employed. Dana Thorpe might have already shared her research data and been eliminated as well. But Lee Nam, the cryptographer, was probably still alive, coding as fast as he could with a figurative gun to his head. But even if he was dead, she still needed to find the kidnapper and provide evidence that her government hadn’t been responsible for Lee’s abduction and death. Kim Jong-un’s deadline was only thirty-six hours away, and on every TV screen she saw, the media had an expert yammering about Jake Austin’s impending execution, with some neocons using it as an excuse to pound the war drums, saying that a nonresponse would be a “show of weakness.”

  Her phone rang, and she hesitated. It was probably Garrett. She hadn’t returned his call yet and she wasn’t sure why. But it could be her boss too, so she checked the screen. A Washington State number she didn’t recognize. “Agent Bailey.”

  “This is Nolan Fredrick from the Washington State business licensing office.”

  Finally! “I hope you have information for me.”

  “I do. I worked through the weekend to pull together a list of recent real-estate transactions in the three categories you specified. I just emailed you a file with the complete list.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I summarized my findings in the email, but I wanted to call and share the critical transactions with you in person.”

  Great. She waited.

  “There are two that seemed significant. Two months ago, a radio manufacturing company called WireWorks sold to Everett Digital Enterprises, and last September, the Palisades Mine sold to a company called JCC Holdings.”

  Both gave her a jolt of hope. “Where are they located?”

  “The radio factory is in Yakima, and the mine, which had been shut down for years, is also in central Washington, near Wanapum.”

  Google Maps was up on her laptop’s screen. Both locations were within easy driving distance from Ellensburg. “What do you know about the buyers? Are those two companies connected?”

  “Not as far as I can tell, based on the paperwork filed.”

  “What else can you tell me about the company that bought the mine?”

  “It’s owned by another holding company, C&M Investments, based in Mexico. So I don’t have access to the owner’s name.”

  Damn! “I may call back with more questions.” Eager to extend her research, Bailey hung up.

  The holding companies didn’t surface in any online search. The owners wanted to remain anonymous. She called Havi. “It’s Bailey. I need your help again.”

  “Hello. What can I do for you?”

  His tone confused her, but she didn’t have time to process it. “I need to find out everything I can about JCC Holdings and also C&M Investments, which is based in Mexico. I’ve searched online, but nothing comes up.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but this may require a call to the Mexican government.”

  Oh hell. “That could take too long.”

  “Let’s see what I can find. Where are you, by the way?”

  “The Denver airport, waiting for a connecting flight.”

  “Do you have a new lead?”

  She hesitated, her secretive nature kicking in. “Only the companies I just mentioned.”

  “Lennard thinks you’re taking some time off.”

  “I am.” She gave him a plausible line in case he was forced to reveal her whereabouts. “I enjoyed Washington State so much when I was there, I’m going back to spend a few vacation days.”

  “Right. Talk to you soon.”

  Bailey stood and stretched, glancing around the airport terminal. It was still the cool season, but she noticed that people west of the Rockies wore a lot more color than those back east, where airports in the winter were a sea of black coats. In her scan, she also noted Asian men, but none were Dukko. She’d thought another cab might be following hers on the way to the airport, but once they were on the freeway, it seemed to disappear behind them. Still, she’d kept a vigilant watch. The bastard had gotten a jump on her once and tied her up like a trussed turkey. Humiliating! That was as close as she ever came to feeling shame or regret. But it wouldn’t happen again. They both wanted to find the kidnapper, but she would beat him to it. Giving him one of the victim’s names had bought her his trust and maybe her life. If Dukko was a sociopath, which he almost had to be to carry out KJU’s directives, killing her might have been an easy choice for him. The fact that he hadn’t done it meant she was more beneficial to him alive. So he might have tried to follow her.

  Bailey spotted another woman eyeing her seat near the electrical outlet, so she plopped back down. She spent a few minutes online trying to find a Northwest-based device manufacturer she could have missed in her earlier efforts. Either of the CEOs she’d questioned in Silicon Valley could have sent hired thugs to kidnap Dana Thorpe and Lee Nam, but she was more convinced than ever that it was a Washington State–based operation. Someone had to be watching and feeding the victims—if any were still alive—while Lee Nam was snatched in DC. Plus, someone had committed the pharmacy robbery in Ellensburg in the same time frame.

  Her phone buzzed in her ear. It was Havi, calling back. “Sorry, but I couldn’t access anything on either of the holding companies. No website, no public corporate meetings, no SEC filings.”

  “Well, damn. There has to be some paperwork filed somewhere.”

  “Yes, but it’s not public. And if C&M is based in Mexico, good luck with that office.”

  Unacceptable! “Can you hack into it?”

  A pause. “Yes, but no.”

  That meant he had the skills but didn’t want to take the risk. She’d done a little hacking, which sometimes was as simple as sending an email with malware that copied and sent the person’s password the next time they used it. “Can you walk me through it?”

  “Yes, but let’s do this on my private cell phone. I’ll call you back.”

  A tremor of excitement rippled through her body, erasing the exhaustion she’d been struggling with. She loved breaking rules and going anywhere she didn’t belong. Plus she was moments away from finding out who was responsible for the kidnappings. Or hours away. Or days. Depending on what kind of hack they used. Bailey glanced at her phone. She still had plenty of time before her flight.

  Havi didn’t call back for ten long minutes and sounded a little rattled when he did. “I emailed you a file with some code to embed, along with the name and address of someone at the Mexican business registry. The message is coming from a private account. You remember how to embed the code?”

  “Yes.” They’d done this before. Havi was a rule breaker too. Many in law enforcement were. That was part of the draw. The power to break rules and get away with it. “Anything else I need to know?”

  “When you get the password, use all caps, no matter what it looks like. Then get in and out quickly.” He talked rapidly in a barely audible whisper. “I don’t think the site has much security, but it will recognize that the user is logging in from a different computer. If you do something unexpected, the system may shut you out after a few minutes.”

  “Why do you sound nervous? Is someone standing nearby?”

  “The AD is on the warpath.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  Abruptly, Havi hung up. Bailey’s off-the-books mission now felt riskier. If she failed to find any of the victims or to arrest the unsub, she could end up getting canned. But only if she used her FBI credentials when she was supposedly off duty. Screw that. She would use every resource she had and not stop until she succeeded. She was too close now to give up.

  Bailey c
hecked her little-used dummy Yahoo account and found the email with Havi’s code. She couldn’t use her own laptop, so she left her spot by the window and backtracked through the airport to an alcove where two public computers were available. A young woman using one of them ignored her until Bailey flashed her badge and asked her to vacate. The girl wasn’t happy about it but she complied.

  Bailey shoved her luggage against the wall and sat down at the little desk. She opened her Yahoo account and created an email addressed to the manager in the Mexican government’s business registry. Embedding the malware took a few tries, because she hadn’t done it in a while. After reading over the message a few times and double-checking her work, Bailey clicked Send. Please let the woman be working today and open her email. Once Bailey discovered who owned C&M or JCC, she could locate every property he or she was connected to. The one closest to the pharmacy would be the first place she would search.

  CHAPTER 34

  Monday, March 23, 8:05 a.m., Seattle, Washington

  Garrett woke suddenly and checked his phone on the nightstand. He hadn’t overslept, and there was no message or text from Bailey. Was she stuck on the tarmac somewhere? Or maybe just busy working the case. Still, he’d expected her to call back after getting his voice mail about the pharmacy in Ellensburg. Maybe she hadn’t received it. Should he call again? He didn’t want to seem obsessive. A terrifying thought hit him. What if the kidnappers had tried to kill Bailey again? A surge of panic drove him out of bed. Because she was traveling, she was probably safe, he reasoned. They couldn’t get to her unless she came back to Seattle, to this house. Maybe when she finally returned, they should both go stay in a hotel.

  He headed for the shower, thinking about the day ahead. Maybe it was time to get his life back to some kind of normalcy. Bailey had encouraged him to keep up with his university assignments. But it felt so wrong to just go about his life with his mother missing. Yet, as a university professor, she would want him to attend class, rather than sit at home worrying. But he couldn’t go to campus yet. Even though he wasn’t ready to focus on his studies, he had another obligation he could meet if he got moving right now.