“You get ’em?” Cameron asked.
“Yeah, kid. I got ’em. You did good-this is amazing work.”
“Thanks,” she said. She tried to toss it off all casual-like, but Hendricks could practically hear her blushing. “What’s a POI?”
“Person of interest,” he said. “Hey, what can you tell me about these guys besides their phone numbers?”
“Nothing,” she said, “and not for lack of trying. Those phones are encrypted six ways from Sunday.”
“Can you find out the point of origin for the text?”
“No-at least, not digitally. Since the phone’s encryption prevents me from accessing its GPS, the best that I could tell you is the cell tower it went through, and we already know which tower it went through, or we never would’ve intercepted it.”
“I sense a but. We don’t have time for dramatic pauses, kid. If you’ve got something, just say so.”
“I’m not trying to be dramatic. I’m multitasking.”
“Meaning what?”
“Take a good look at that picture. Tell me what you see. Besides the guys, I mean.”
“I dunno. A couch?”
“Sure, a couch. Also a fireplace, hardwood floors, distinctive molding, and what looks like a covered farmer’s porch outside the window.”
“Okay-but what good does that do us?”
“None of the houses on the Presidio are privately owned. They’re all rented from the Presidio Trust. I’m on their website now. They’ve got pics of all their housing broken down by style and neighborhood.”
“Good thought,” he said, “but the Presidio is an old army base. There must be dozens of houses that match that description. I walked through neighborhood after neighborhood of identical homes on my way here.”
“You’d think, but as it turns out, your boy Segreti has refined taste. Because I’m pretty sure I just found the place where they caught up with him, and there’s only four like it on the whole base.”
“You got any idea which one he’s in?”
“No, but it looks like they’re all clumped together, two on either side of Presidio Boulevard where it intersects with Funston.”
Hendricks opened Google Maps. “That’s almost a mile from my position. I need to get moving. And we’re gonna have to disconnect, so you’ll be on your own a little while.”
“Why?”
“Because these guys don’t look like mob goons; they look like law enforcement. And I need to make a phone call to see if I can find out who sent them.”
“Law enforcement? That, uh, jibes with something I heard earlier,” Cameron said.
“Which is?”
“The girl from the video-Hannah Reston-told me a Fed came by her brother’s room super-early this morning and talked to her dad. Said the guy was gross. Winked at her and everything. Anyway, he asked a bunch of questions about our guy and leaned on her dad hard for answers. Sounds to me like the dad was pretty rattled by the whole experience. I had Hannah push a little, see what else she could find out, but her dad got pissed and snapped at her, told her to leave it be. She said it’s not like him to yell.”
“Wait-you talked to the Restons? What the hell were you thinking? I told you not to go anywhere near them!”
“Relax. I talked to Hannah in the hospital’s restroom, girl to girl. Made up some story about the guy being my granddad. Said my family’s trying to find him but we need to keep it on the down-low because he’s technically an illegal. Met my grandma when he came over from Italy for college and stayed but never filed the proper paperwork. She bought it, hook, line, and sinker. Thinks she’s digging in the name of love. Her parents don’t even know I’m here.”
“Wait, what do you mean, they don’t even know? You’re not still in the building, are you?”
“Yeah, why? I don’t see the big deal. The hospital cafeteria’s got everything I need. Great Wi-Fi signal. Loads of computers on the network for me to hijack. Tons of people hanging out and killing time, so I’ve got plenty of cover, and everyone from the docs to the patients’ loved ones are so distracted, no one’s even given me a second glance.”
“You said you were in a coffee shop,” he said, his voice an angry, gravelly monotone.
“Yeah, well, I lied.”
“Listen to me. You’re not safe there. You need to get out of the building immediately, preferably through a staff exit.”
“Why a staff exit?”
“Because if someone’s watching the place, they’ll be monitoring the doors civilians come and go through. But-and this is important-you need to stay within sight of two people and two routes of egress at all times. Don’t allow yourself to be alone with anyone. Don’t let yourself get cornered.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Good. You should be scared. Listen to your fear. It’ll keep you safe. One more thing: Did Hannah tell you what this Fed looked like?”
“Uh…older guy. Really tan. Like, from the sun, not spray. Said he was wearing cowboy boots and a turquoise pinkie ring. That help?”
“Too soon to tell,” he said. “Now go. Run. Don’t stop until you’re sure no one is following. I’ll call back as soon as I can.”
“But what if-”
Hendricks disconnected the call. Felt a pang of guilt for leaving her in the cold. Prayed his paranoia was unnecessary.
Then he pulled up his burner’s keypad and punched in a number from memory.
28.
THE HOOVER BUILDING was a nest disturbed. Stuffed beyond capacity. Brimming with activity. Every phone, printer, and photocopier clamoring at once. The HVAC system couldn’t keep up. The whole building smelled like overloaded electronics and unwashed bodies. With the threat of future attacks looming, none of them were willing to abandon their posts for long enough to shower or change their clothes, much less get some sleep.
O’Brien had moved her best agents from their offices to a conference room, the table buried beneath a foot-high layer of paper. “This represents every ounce of intel we have on Khalid Waheeb, Ahmed Muhammad Bakr, and Fazul Abdullah al-Nasr,” she’d said. “Most of it is out of date. Some of it is doubtless inaccurate. But we’re going to sift through every page anyway, because that’s what NSB’s asked us to do. So grab a stack and get to work.”
They all knew it was a shit detail, that if there were anything worth finding in these documents, NSB would be combing through them instead of handing them off. But they buckled down and dug in anyway. Like it or not, that was the job.
They’d been at it for hours when Thompson’s phone rang. It took a moment for her to locate her cell in the mess. It was wedged between a pile of phone records and some credit card receipts that in turn were hidden from view by the open lid of a pizza box.
Caller ID was no help. It was an unfamiliar number, no name attached.
“Thompson here.”
“Tell me you sent them.”
“Who is this?” she asked sharply enough that O’Brien cocked an eyebrow at Thompson over her laptop.
“You know damn well who this is.”
Jesus. It was Hendricks. She got up from the table. Turned her back to O’Brien. Dropped her voice to just above a whisper. Ducked out of the conference room and headed down the hall. “How the hell did you get this number?”
“What are you talking about? You gave it to me.”
“And you refused to take it.”
“No. I took your number. All I left behind was the card you wrote it on.” He sounded out of breath, Thompson realized, like he was on the move. “Now-did you send them?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Five minutes ago, a team of men in body armor stormed a house in the Presidio and captured Frank Segreti. I need to know if they’re law.”
Thompson opened the door to the stairwell. It banged shut behind her once she stepped through. “Someone captured Frank Segreti?” She winced at how loud her voice sounded, amplified by the stairway’s bare concrete.