It clearly had been lived in. He could make out a small pile of coins on top of the dresser, a Bic pen, and what might be a roll of antacids. Yates was already busy working these for latent prints. Dart edged over to the closet and carefully opened it, his hand sweating inside the latex glove. There were a dozen shirts on hangers, and a white wire rack that held folded jeans, socks, underwear, T-shirts, a sweatsuit and other clothing.
Gritch tapped Dart on the shoulder, moved him, and began shooting photographs of the closeted clothing, Yates training the special low-level flashlight on the contents.
“We have an unidentified male approaching on foot on Zion,” the voice in Dart’s ear announced.
“Heads up, people,” Schultz’s voice said into Dart’s earpiece. “Let’s rendezvous at the base of stairs immediately.” He paused. “Right now, people.”
Yates returned to the clothes dresser and wiped down the pen and several of the coins. Gritch prepared and then bagged the digital camera and said to Dart, “This was closed, correct?”
“Yes.”
She shut the closet door. “Fully closed?”
“Fully closed,” Dart acknowledged.
“Suspect is turning down Hamilton,” came the spotter in Dart’s right ear.
“Team leader,” inquired the male voice from the van, “do you copy that please?”
“Copy,” replied Schultz.
“Prepare to evacuate all personnel,” the operations van announced calmly.
“Roger.”
Over the communications device Schultz ordered, “Down here now, people. Get the lead out!”
As Dart headed out of the bedroom, he glanced over his shoulder to see both Gritch and Yates dash into the bathroom and then back out through the bedroom, their heads and the ungainly goggles sweeping left to right. During the briefing, Schultz had informed Dart that he wanted these two particular technicians because of their incredible photographic memories. He had told a story about Gritch returning from a raid and reciting forty-five tides of books contained on the study’s shelves-he estimated that Gritch had been inside there less than a minute. A later SID report had confirmed all forty-five titles.
“Report?” the operations van requested.
“Subject is entering Hamilton Court,” the male voice replied. “You’ll need to abort via the back route. Copy?”
How could the dispatcher sound so calm? Dart wondered. His chest felt on the verge of exploding.
“Copy,” said the van.
“Back route. Copy,” replied Schultz.
Schultz and his two men were waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
“We have an abort situation,” Schultz announced over the unit intercom. “Unidentified subject approaching.” He tripped a button on his belt pack and said to the operations van, “Status?”
“The back is still clear,” Dart heard in his earpiece.
Schultz repeated this.
Schultz now addressed Dart directly, the night-vision goggles making him look like some kind of bug. “Your call, Detective. Do we apprehend or not?” This was first time Dart heard emotion override the man’s military manner-Schultz wanted to stay and apprehend the suspect.
Dart asked Gritch, “How did we do in here?”
“Well below what we might have hoped for.” Yates nodded his agreement. She was saying that they had nothing. No evidence of consequence.
In a flurry of activity, Dart then heard the operations van direct the field surveillance operatives.
OPERATIONS VAN: This is Control. Shepherd, can we get a video of the subject with a drive-by?
DETECTIVE SHEPHERD: Negative. He’s already in the alley. If you get a pickup you’ll be lucky. I’d advise the team to enter Pope Park. We’ll pick up at York Street.
OPERATIONS VAN: Negative on Pope Park. We’re rolling. Team leader, acknowledge abort.
Schultz, off mike, said, “Well?”
Dart did not want to apprehend, given the lack of evidence. He wanted this suspect, but not yet. “Negative.” Then he immediately voiced a consideration to Brandon. “Can we get a look at him?”
Brandon, aware of the order of rank, looked to Schultz for the answer.
“We can get anything, Detective.” Schultz said. “It’s your call.”
PERSONNEL VAN: What’s the call?
OPERATIONS VAN: Team leader?
FIELD AGENT: Suspect has passed target. He’s turning down the drive.
Schultz yanked the gooseneck microphone to in front of his mouth and said for everyone to hear, “He’s going for the back door. We’ll take the front.” He threw the switch on his communications device and spoke.
SCHULTZ: We’ll need ten seconds.
OPERATIONS VAN: You won’t get it.
Schultz placed his gloved hand on the doorknob.
Pointing at Brandon, Dart asked, “Can we leave the camera set up in here?”
“If we leave Brandon, we can,” came Schultz’s answer. “We don’t have the necessary warrants for wire surveillance, but we are allowed in here. If you want to record this guy, it’s going to have to be in person. Your decision.”
“But we’ll pick it up in the van?” Dart asked.
“In the operations van, yes,” Schultz answered.
“Brandon and I stay,” Dart said.
OPERATIONS VAN: Suspect is inside the back gate. You better get out.
Dart heard a rattle at the back door as a key turned.
Schultz faced his crew and said, “We’re going to take him, people. Positions!”
“No!” Dart objected with a harsh whisper, his body in full sweat, the sound of the key in the lock somehow louder.
“We can’t make it.” Schultz countered, “We’re too late.”
Dart argued, “We hide. Ride him out. Maybe we get a shot to leave.”
Schultz and Dart faced each other, and despite the goggles, Dart felt as if he were looking directly into the man’s eyes and that they were locked in a battle of wills.
Schultz acquiesced. “Observation only until further notice. Go!”
The door cracked came unlocked and cracked open tentatively.
The ERT crew scattered and disappeared instantly. Brandon and Dart raced up the stairs. Dart didn’t see where the others went, only Schultz, who stashed himself into the front coat closet. As he reached the landing, following closely on Brandon’s heels, Dart heard something like static in his right ear and realized it was Schultz, barely whispering over the intercom:
SCHULTZ: I want location reports. Check in ASAP.
Give me suspect’s position, people.
ERT AGENT PHILGIM: Philgim. I’m in the kitchen.
ERT AGENT DONALDSON: Donaldson. Basement stairs.
ERT AGENT BRANDON: Brandon. Upstairs bedroom.
DART: Dartelli. Upstairs bedroom.
SCHULTZ: Split it up, up there.
ERT AGENT YATES: Yates. Basement with Donaldson.
ERT AGENT PHILGIM: He’s inside.
Silence over the intercom. Dart heard a floorboard creak downstairs, and he prayed it was the suspect, not one of Schultz’s commandos. He didn’t want a dead suspect, and these ERT types were weapons-sharp. Brandon, following orders, motioned for Dart to enter the closet and that he, Brandon, would take up a position in the bathroom.
To Dart, it felt as if several minutes passed before another voice came over the intercom.
ERT AGENT GRITCH: Gritch. Living room. He’s heading for the stairs. He’s using a flashlight.
The idea of a flashlight didn’t sit well with Dart. The resident would certainly use the lights-unless, Dart thought, he wanted to disguise his coming and going.