“Mom!” Ethan called downstairs from his room. “Is it bath night tonight?”
“Yes, do you need towels? I’ll be right up!”
Lisa continued searching Gannon online, finding photos from his days at the Buffalo Sentinel, his Pulitzer nomination and stories he’d done across the country and around the world for the WPA. He came across as a guy who was confident, rough around the edges, but who had a good heart. He was easy on the eyes, too.
Lisa saw that he worked out of the WPA’s world headquarters in Manhattan; saw the phone number and his email.
She bit her bottom lip.
Should she contact him for help?
39
San Francisco, California
Ivan Felk was in his hotel room, reviewing street maps on his laptop, when his screen chimed with a news alert.
The New York Times posted a breaking newswire item online three minutes ago.Ramapo Heist Suspect Dies In Nebraska
What the hell?
Felk read the story fast.
The car was a rental from Chicago, heading west on the interstate. The driver was shot after he struggled for the trooper’s gun and died later in hospital. The Times attributed the story to the World Press Alliance. Felk read it a second time.
But how did they link this to the heist?
Rytter was not named, and there were few other details. Still, the facts, and what Felk knew, were enough to convince him it was Rytter who had died.
A moment passed as he absorbed it.
Erik was dead.
Damn it.
This jeopardizes the mission.
What happened?
They were all professionals, the best of the best. They all knew going into this that there was no guarantee they’d come out alive. But they were not prone to mistakes. Rytter was careful, meticulous at eliminating risks.
How the hell did this happen?
Felk went to his window, looked down at the Federal Reserve Bank across the street and assessed the situation. Rytter was a strong soldier, a good man. They needed him. Every member of the team had a specific job that was crucial to the next stage of the operation. Rytter was his lead explosives expert, his best C4 man.
What do I do now?
Felk forced himself to stay calm, to think. They had to adapt just as they did in battle. When you lost a man, you adjusted and you advanced the mission.
Rytter was dead. But how did they link him to the heist?
Someone was knocking on the door.
In the peephole, Felk saw a fish-eyed version of Dillon and let him in.
“You see what happened in Nebraska?” Dillon asked.
“I saw. Where are the others right now?”
“I don’t know. What’re we going to do, Ivan?”
“We keep going.”
“But we need Rytter.”
“We carry it and we keep going. Unger’s good with explosives.”
“What about Sparks?”
“What about him?”
“He’s a good explosives man. We’ve got time to bring him in.”
Felk considered it, but the Sparks option came with challenges.
“He’s been having a hard time,” Felk said. “That’s why we didn’t want him operational. He’s unstable. Besides, he’s already given us support, gone as far as he can go.”
“But we need help. You could have him here in a matter of hours. We could get him up to speed. Sparks could do this with his eyes closed.”
It was true.
When Sparks could function, he was outstanding. Having lost Rytter, they were now facing an extraordinary situation. Felk went to his laptop, opened a hidden file that contained phone numbers, then picked up his untraceable cell phone and made a call.
He got a recording:
The number you have reached is no longer in service.
“His number doesn’t work. Hang on.”
Felk called again to be sure he hadn’t misdialed, and got the same message.
“Maybe he changed it?” Dillon said. “Call his building.”
Felk went back to his laptop for the name and address of the building then went online for the super’s number and called it. He expected a recorded message, but after three rings, the line was answered.
“Oceanic Towers, Shelly Konradisky.”
“Hello, I’m trying to reach the tenant in 1021, Harlee Shaw. His number may have changed—”
“I’m very sorry, are you a friend?”
“Uh, yes. Would you have his new number?”
She cleared her throat. “You must not know what happened.”
“No, what do you mean?”
“I am so sorry to be the one to tell you but…um…Harlee died.”
“He died?” Felk shot a look to Dillon, whose eyes widened.
“Yes, I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?”
“I’m afraid he took his own life.”
“How?”
“With his gun.”
“Jesus.” A long moment passed before Felk said, “I knew he was having trouble from his time in the war.”
“Yes, it’s just terrible what our boys go through over there.”
“When was this?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Who found him?”
“I did. Well, me and a reporter.”
“Reporter?”
“Yes, he wanted to talk to Harlee.”
“What reporter? Why?”
“I’m not too sure, some kind of story about war vets, maybe?”
“What’s the reporter’s name?”
“I have his card right here. Jack Gannon. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you his contact information. He’s from the World Press Alliance.”
Felk took it down.
“Did Gannon say anything about why he wanted to talk to Harlee?”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t get your name?”
“Wayne McCormick.”
“And how did you know Harlee?”
“We went through basic together. Thanks for helping me.”
“I am so sorry about your friend, Wayne. It must’ve been terrible what he went though overseas.”
“It was.”
Felk hung up and turned to Dillon.
“I got your end of that,” Dillon said. “What’s the reporter part?”
Felk shook his head in deeply troubled thought.
“Find Northcutt and Unger and meet me in the park at that spot in front of the port building in thirty minutes. We have to assess.”
Dillon left. Felk returned to the window and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.
No other option existed but to advance the operation.
They were at battle, taking losses, but they would adjust. They had time to evaluate resources and adapt the mission. The clock was ticking down on them. He replayed the older video from militants of the Revolutionary Movement showing his men unshaven, gaunt, cadaverous, eyes enlarged to dark pools of fear. He braced as a hooded captor raised a sword above his brother’s head.
Ivan, please! Don’t let me die!”
We’re coming, Clay. Nothing’s going to stop us.
Staring down at the Federal Reserve, Felk counted the days before the bank would process the ten-million-dollar order to be transported by armored car to Oakland International Airport.
They had time to prepare.
Still, he was assailed by the unknowns, questions that loomed large, eclipsing everything, gnawing at him.