“The one and only. It’s ‘Tops,’ not ‘top,’ as in looking over the top of something. In this case, the Tops he’s referring to are the Big and Little Round Tops. The den is the Devil’s Den. All three geographical locations played major parts in the three-day battle.”
“What’s with the stone wall?” Cara asked. “Why would that be notable?”
“On the last day of fighting, during Pickett’s charge when the Confederate Army very briefly punched through the Union lines before internal reinforcements beat them back and then won the day, the Union set up behind a stone wall on Cemetery Ridge. That stone wall became the dividing line. The Union held firm and any Confederates who crossed the stone wall were either cut down or taken prisoner. So that’s it. Put it all together and she’s in Gettysburg.”
“But where in Gettysburg? It’s a small town, but a tourist mecca. We can’t just toss Hawk into the middle of a National Battlefield of that size, with no trail to start with, and hope that he’ll find our missing woman. He’s good, but we have to be realistic.”
“Fair enough. Give me a minute.”
“Move fast, McCord. She’s dying out there.”
“You think I don’t know that? But if I steer you wrong, she has no chance at all. Everything depends on this. It’s worth the extra minute or two to make sure I’m not sending you to the wrong place.”
“You said it’s Gettysburg.”
“Yeah, but where? I’ll get this, just let me think.” There was silence for a moment, except for the clicking of keys; then McCord spoke again. “Okay, let’s look at this logically. The ‘pike’ was known as the Baltimore Pike back then and is known as the Baltimore Turnpike today. It’s in the exact same location as it was one hundred and fifty years ago. So that likely makes the cemetery mentioned Cemetery Hill.”
“I thought you said it was Cemetery Ridge.”
“There is a Cemetery Ridge, but that’s southwest of Cemetery Hill, and nowhere near the Pike. But the day before Pickett’s Charge, there was significant fighting at Cemetery Hill and Culp’s Hill, right beside the Baltimore Pike. It makes sense that she’s somewhere in the area of Cemetery Hill.”
“What’s the last bit, then? ‘Years of craftsmanship gone in a second, like a puff of smoke’? Is he setting some prized building on fire so the victim dies of smoke inhalation? Are there buildings like that on Cemetery Hill?” There were a few more seconds of silence. “McCord?”
“Hang on,” said Cara. “He’s looking at Google Maps for something.”
Meg put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter while she continued packing her SAR bag with fresh supplies for the day’s search—water; high-energy treats for Hawk, and energy bars for herself; Hawk’s booties, in case the terrain got too rough for his feet; spare socks for herself, in case her feet got wet. She had just zipped up the bag and set it by the door beside Hawk’s leash and FBI vest when she heard voices.
“Hang on,” she called as she ran back into the kitchen. “Sorry, was packing our SAR bag and popped out of the room for a minute. What have you got?”
“I think I’ve got her location,” McCord said. “It’s not a fire. It’s a demolition. The ‘puff of smoke’ is the dust cloud from a building coming down.”
Meg’s breath caught in her throat. “He’s got her in a building that’s going to be razed? So she’ll be crushed?”
“It would be a new twist on the asphyxia angle. Anyway, there’s an old furniture factory, Teller and Sons, that’s been closed since the 1960s. It’s a remnant of Gettysburg’s furniture-manufacturing boom in the early twentieth century. It’s a gorgeous old four-story brick building that’s crumbling from neglect. Must be at least ten thousand square feet of space, small by today’s standards, but no doubt huge back then. But that’s the ‘years of craftsmanship.’ It’s not the building that’s art—it’s what they made in it.”
“And they’re bringing the building down.”
“Meg, it’s scheduled to come down today.”
She froze. Gettysburg was at least an hour and a half away and they had to gather the team first. “What time?”
“Ten-thirty this morning.”
We aren’t going to make it.
“I have to call Craig, and we have to move now.”
“Go.” Cara’s voice was louder, as if she had leaned into the phone. “Call us if you need anything at all.”
“Will do.” Meg clicked off without a good-bye and immediately dialed Craig. She had no choice but to let the cat out of the bag. The newest victim’s life was at stake.
Craig picked up so quickly, she suspected he hadn’t put his phone down since talking to her earlier. “Beaumont.”
“It’s Meg. Craig, I know where she is.”
“What? How?”
“You sent me the code. We cracked it and figured out the answer. She’s in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, being held in an abandoned historic furniture factory scheduled for demolition at ten-thirty this morning. Teller and Sons. We have to move now or we’re going to lose her. Gettysburg is too far away.”
“Hold on, back up. What do you mean ‘we cracked it’?”
Damn. She’d been hoping he’d gloss over that until later. “My sister, Cara, is an amazing puzzle solver. I gave it to her and she figured out the code based on how the first code was solved. Clay McCord from the Washington Post figured out the rest. He’s a Civil War buff, and can ferret out information like you wouldn’t believe.”
“We’ll go over his qualifications at another time. Goddamn it, Meg. You can’t involve outsiders in a case like this.”
“I know. But at some point, urgency has to outweigh FBI regulations. Craig, the only thing that matters is getting to her. We’re running out of time. It’s at least ninety minutes away, and that’s if I walk out the door right now and hit zero traffic.”
“We can’t risk that kind of margin. Head for Ronald Reagan Airport. I’ll arrange for a quick flight for you and the team. Gettysburg has a small airport, and I’ll have cars waiting for you when you get there.”
“You do that, and I’ll call the team. Brian, Lauren, and Scott again?”
“Yes. I’ll call you with more details when I have them. And I’ll find out what demolition company is bringing it down and call them off. Now go. And, Meg?”
“Yes?”
“We’re not finished with this conversation.”
Meg closed her eyes at the sinking feeling in her stomach. Of course they weren’t. “I’m on my way to the airport. Call me when you have more.” She ended the call, and took two seconds to curse under her breath. Then with a call to Hawk, they were running out the door.
CHAPTER 15
Union Army Balloon Corps: On June 16, 1861, Professor Thaddeus Lowe demonstrated the usefulness of hot-air balloons for President Lincoln by lifting off from the Washington Mall, near the site of the future National Air & Space Museum. Aware of Lincoln’s penchant for visiting the Telegraph Office, Lowe took a telegraph with him onboard the gas-inflated aerostat Enterprise and sent the president the first aerial telegram.
Saturday, May 27, 10:06 AM
Teller and Sons furniture factory
Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
The FBI handlers and their dogs poured from the Gettysburg PD SUVs, once the vehicles screeched to a halt just off the Baltimore Turnpike. On one side of the road, a crumbling factory could be seen through the chain-link fence surrounding the structure. Four stories in height, the building was constructed of rough red clay bricks, with rows of tall windows wrapping every floor. In the years before electric lights were commonplace, natural light was a workplace necessity, and this building was constructed to allow in the maximum light possible. Now, however, the windows were devoid of glass, and multicolored, spray-painted graffiti marred the lower story of the factory. The structure was topped by a black shingle roof that showed significant bare patches. A large faded sign, TELLER AND SONS, was situated over the gaping hole that was once the front entrance
to the building.
One of the Gettysburg PD officers waved the teams to follow him through the chain-link gate. “Come on. The site foreman is waiting for us inside.”
The four teams jogged after him through the gate. Meg glanced at her watch, fretting at the time. If anything went wrong, the site was set to blow in less than twenty-five minutes.
A tall man, wearing a white hardhat with DUNCAN DEMOLITION stamped on the front, met them halfway to the gate. “Hey, Phil. Thanks for bringing them in.” He held out his hand to Brian, who was closest to him. “Fred Duncan, owner of Duncan Demolition.” He shook hands with Brian, then the other three handlers. “Officer Carmichael filled me in about the threat you reported. We’ve put the demolition on hold until you’ve had a chance to review the site, but we’d like to proceed later today, if possible.”
“If we can clear the site and prove no one is inside,” Brian said, “then you’re free to proceed. Has anyone been inside the factory this morning?”
“No. We normally would have done a full review of the charges by now, but the directions were to keep everyone out until you arrived. I’m telling you, no one has gotten in here. Ever since we installed the charges yesterday afternoon, the site has been guarded and off-limits to make sure no idiot kids broke in and got hurt.”
“How many people patrolled the site last night?” Lauren asked.
“Two, which is normal for a site this size. Honestly, sometimes kids try to come by in the evening just to say they got in, but once you scare them off, that’s the end of it. This isn’t New York City. Teenagers dare each other to pull this kind of stunt, but that’s about it. Mostly, people want to be on the outside when it goes off, not inside beforehand. People love a good bang.”
“Or they’re watching for something to go badly wrong so they can say they were there when it happened,” Brian said. “What time did you release the security guards?”
“When my crew and I arrived shortly after nine. I already had word to stay out, so I’ve been here since then, waiting with my men for you to arrive.”
“We need to check out the site to see if it’s been breached,” Meg said. “We’re going to take dogs in. Can you guarantee the charges you laid won’t go off?”
“Sure can.” Duncan pulled a small control box out of his pocket. “This is the box that controls the demolition. It’s been disconnected from the wired explosives. The charges are placed strategically to bring down the internal weight-bearing columns so the building will basically fold in on itself. The explosives themselves are relatively inert until a charge is applied to the detonator to set off the reaction. No charge, no detonation. You’re totally safe in there. Please don’t mess with the wires though.” He glanced down at the dogs, taking in the Labrador, German shepherd, border collie, and bloodhound. “Needless to say, don’t let the dogs chew on the wires either.”
“That would be about the last thing that would happen,” Lauren said dryly. “They’re working dogs. They know what to do and what not to do.”
“Sorry. Wasn’t trying to imply they aren’t great dogs. We just don’t want to have to rewire the whole mess later.”
“Understood. Is there anything we need to know about the building? It’s old and run-down, but is it safe? Are there any weak spots in the floor or stairways that we need to watch for?”
“There are a few problem areas, but we’ve very clearly marked them with fluorescent orange spray paint. The original construction was solid though, so the floor and stairs are in fair condition. They’ll take everyone’s weight, and then some. The problem areas are more upstairs where water has leaked through the roof, or in the basement, where the foundation is cracked. But the building is empty. Anything left behind, we’ve removed as part of preparation. It’s mostly just an empty shell, so your search shouldn’t be too hard. Just watch the yellow detonation cord that runs from all the columns out the front door. It’s all over the building and you’ll trip if you’re not careful. Again though, it’s inert. No charge, no boom.”
“Good to know.” Lauren looked around the group. “Ready?”
Meg pulled a small plastic case from her pack. “Ready.”
“What’s that?” Duncan asked, eyeing the case.
“A leash last held by Karen Teller, the woman we’re looking for.”
“Teller.” Duncan’s gaze darted up to the sign at the front of the building. “As in the family that owned this place?”
“That was confirmed for us on our way here. The leash is to give the dogs the scent so they can track her.”
“Sounds like you know what you need to do. We’ll get out of your way so you can start.”
“Appreciate that. Let’s go.”
Meg led the way; Brian, Lauren, and Scott followed behind, the dogs all heeling next to their handlers. She pulled a flashlight out of her pocket, just before stepping into the cool interior of the building, carefully avoiding the thick bundles of yellow cord that ran through the doorway on one side. Meg stood for a moment, blinking, allowing her eyes to acclimatize to the lower light. She flipped on her flashlight, shining it into the deeper reaches of the factory, away from the row of windows.
The ground floor was essentially one giant room, with no internal dividing walls. The interior walls were the same rough brick as the outside. Solid squared timbers dotted the space at regular intervals, supporting the massive crossbeams carrying the floor above. Dotted throughout the space were heavy columns of brick, the weight-bearing supports for the building, to allow for the tons of equipment needed throughout the building in its heyday. The floor, made from thick wide planks of hardwood, was heavily scarred, but still intact.
“Okay, here we go. Unless they catch the scent right away on this floor, let’s cover this space, then split up because this is a big building.” Meg’s voice echoed in the empty space, her words bouncing off the bare brick walls. “Lauren, you and Rocco take the basement. Scott, the second floor, Brian the third, and I’ll take the fourth.”
She unhooked Hawk’s leash, coiling it, and jamming it in the pocket of her coat. She opened the box and offered it first to Hawk, then to the other dogs in succession. Slipping it back into her pack, she met Hawk’s steady gaze. “Find her, Hawk. Find Karen.” She followed him as he started down the long length of the room.
It was the tiny flash of red that caught her eye twenty feet down the room. A flash of color when there should have been nothing.
“Hawk, stop.” The Labrador immediately halted, turning his head to look at her quizzically at the quick change in direction. “Everyone, hold!”
Commands from all the handlers had the other three dogs freezing.
“What is it?” Brian asked.
Meg shone her flashlight on the brick column a quarter of the way into the cavernous space. The column was wrapped in heavy black fabric tied into place with bright blue rope. Thick yellow cord ran in triplets from each column to the floor, where it joined up with cord from the other columns to run out the front door and across the dirt yard. But the beam of the flashlight moved higher, focusing on something duct-taped onto the black fabric.
“Holy shit, that’s a cell phone,” Scott breathed. “You can detonate explosives with the charge from a cell phone. Someone else is in control of this site.”
“Fall back,” Brian ordered. “Lacey, come.”
The four teams hurried out the front door. Once free of the building, they sprinted over to the demolition team, the dogs racing with them.
Duncan stepped forward, his eyes wide and alarmed. “What happened?”
“Now we know your site has been compromised,” Meg said.
“How?”
“One of your columns has a cell phone duct-taped to the fabric covering. Did you put that there?”
Duncan had gone pale, and a mist of sweat broke out on his upper lip. “No. Do any of the other columns have that?”
“Not that we saw,” Brian said. “But we didn’t stick around. This was scheduled to go
off at ten-thirty?”
“Yes.” Duncan pushed back his sleeve to reveal an ancient dial watch. “It’s ten twenty-two. Maybe he hasn’t tagged all the columns, but even just a couple could be disastrous. A few well-placed explosions going off could be enough for a sympathetic detonation—the shock wave from one explosion can detonate a nearby explosive, even if they’re not connected. Only a few columns blowing could still bring the building down, but not in the order we planned. We’ve got to move back. We’re now way too close and he could blow it any second.”
Meg already had her phone out and was dialing Craig. “We have to assume he’s going to blow it on time. It’s his insurance in case we found out and called off the demolition. As far as he’s concerned, the clock is still ticking—that’s all part of the game. Now I know, for sure, she’s in there. Craig, it’s Meg. We have a problem. I’m putting you on speaker.” She hit the SPEAKER button and held the phone out as Brian, Lauren, and Scott gathered close. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes. What happened?” Craig’s voice was slightly crackly, but his rapid-fire words highlighted his alarm.
“The site has been compromised. The demolition team had deactivated the explosives from their end, but we’re seeing signs of tampering. Someone else is in control of the explosives, using cell phones for the electrical charge to set them off. We still need to get in there to find her.”
“Absolutely not. He could blow the place as soon as you’re inside.”
“But that’s not what he’ll do, don’t you see?” Meg didn’t want to waste time arguing, but she needed to make Craig understand. She glanced at the clock in the system bar at the top of her screen. “It’s ten twenty-three. We’ve got seven minutes. She’s there, Craig. This proves it. And he won’t blow it until ten-thirty.”
“There is no guarantee of that,” Craig barked. “And I’m not about to put the team at risk to prove your point.”
Brian pushed forward. “Craig, Meg’s right. There are four of us, we can do it. We can get in and out in time.”
Before It's Too Late Page 14
