Bear whistles when he sees the Glock 19, Smith and Wesson .357 SIG, a Steyr S40-A1, a Heckler and Koch HK416, CS Gas, stacks of ammunition, hunting knives and even some flashbangs and sting grenades.
‘Enough to start a war,’ he grunts.
‘Or survive one,’ Chloe replies.
‘We have our own kit, but it’s good to know that this is around,’ Bear continues. ‘We’ve cased the building and the neighborhood in the last few weeks, and we’re good to go from tonight.’
Zeb briefs them on the neighbors, the doorman, and various routines in the building, and works out call codes with them.
As he prepares to leave, Rory rushes in. He comes to an abrupt halt and gapes at Bear. Bear is huge, towers over Zeb by a foot, is built like a fortress, and sports a full beard; Chloe is just the opposite, petite and svelte.
Bear returns his stare and then winks slowly at Rory. He holds out a hand and introduces himself, ‘You must be Rory. For some strange reason I’ve never been able to understand, all my friends call me Bear.’ A twitch of a smile. ‘This is my partner, Chloe. We’ll be staying at your Aunt Cassandra’s place for a few weeks.’
Rory giggles in spite of himself and looks at Zeb.
‘Cass needs some help, and Bear and Chloe pitched in. They’re good friends of mine. Bear is a better pitcher than I am, by the way, and knows more about baseball than anyone else I know.’
That swings it for Rory, and he rushes out to tell his mother. Zeb looks at Bear and Chloe. ‘Let me introduce you to the rest of them.’
He brings them next door and introduces them to Lauren. Lauren’s eyes are full of questions, but Zeb says he’ll explain later when Connor is home. He leaves Bear and Chloe to sort things out with Lauren, and then later, with Cassandra.
He walks back to the subway; flowing through the anonymous passengers calms him and helps him think. He knows what he’s doing: using himself as bait to draw in and apply pressure to Holt. He knows Holt is in the city. He doesn’t know how he knows, but the knowledge is there. He has always had that tingling awareness when his prey is nearby. He tried explaining this to psychologists when he was in the Special Forces, but they didn’t get it. Since then, he hasn’t told anyone else about it, though he thinks Broker and Bear might have sensed it in him. They are two with whom he has come closest to lowering his guard.
He checks his phone and sees a message from Broker.
‘Jackpot,’ he shouts when Zeb calls him. ‘I got the mother of the fucker! Her name is Pamela Whitlock; her address is in Williamstown — about an hour and a half away from Jackson. She married again and changed her name to Whitlock. No kids and she willed the family home in Jackson to Holt. That’s how I got her.’ All coming in a rush from Broker as he enjoys his high.
‘Her second husband passed away a few years back. No known income right now, except a state pension. I guess her husband left her a decent pile to live off.
‘You want to check her house out? I know you want to, and this time I’m coming along with you,’ Broker says.
‘Don’t get involved. This has nothing to do with you.’
‘Bubba, we’ve had this discussion before. I got involved the day I met you. It’s not as if I haven’t been in the field ever since I started dealing in information.’
Zeb is aware of this.
Broker has been on a few missions with other military contractors, though he picks and chooses his missions. If he has to choose a partner, Broker will be his first choice, rock steady under fire, cool head, and a first-rate sniper. For an analyst, Broker has a knack for using a long gun.
He could do with a second pair of eyes, but doesn’t want to involve anyone else in this. As it is, there are too many non-principals involved.
‘Bubba, I know what you’re thinking, but there’s no way you’re going to Williamstown alone. I am coming along with you.’
Silence on the line, then Broker continues, ‘I’ll outfit a vehicle tomorrow, and we can go. Right now all we want to do is check the place out and see if we can pick up any sign of Holt there.’
Zeb looks out the window. If Holt is staying with his mother, then that could be a complication. Zeb has never strayed from his rule of not involving non-principals.
He also wonders if Mendes and Jones are with Holt. He thinks it’s a strong possibility. The six of them were working together a long time, and the events in the DRC would only bind them closer together. Holt still remains his priority, since he was the ringleader, and once he finds Holt, he can turn his attention to the others.
Broker drives up in an anonymous Honda Civic with New Jersey plates the next day. Zeb inspects the car and sees that he has kitted it out with a parabolic mike, infrared binoculars, a fiber-optic camera and recorder, and a thermal imager.
‘I love technology,’ he says defensively when Zeb looks across at him. ‘Besides, these will be useful.’
‘Is this your car?’ Zeb asks.
‘One of them. You know I have a car rental agency, which is a front for my cars. It’s easier and offers anonymity as well as control.’
Zeb thinks for a moment. ‘Let’s go back to the rental agency and change the rental name to mine. I also want your agent to have a good look at me.’
Broker looks at Zeb as if he just sang ‘I’m a Little Teapot’ while wearing a pink tutu and Spock ears.
Zeb looks back at him.
Broker snaps his fingers. ‘Gotcha. If Holt trails back, you want him to know it’s you.’
Zeb nods. ‘That’s why I don’t want you involved. This has nothing to do with you.’
Broker snorts. ‘Let’s get going. Enough wasting time on this. And don’t bring this up again.’
They drive to the rental agency, where Zeb walks in and changes the rental name and hangs around aimlessly, checking out the flyers on the walls, making sure he is visible to the CCTV cameras mounted inside the agency.
They drive off once they’re done, with Broker at the wheel. ‘So how do you want to play this?’ he asks. ‘We can just do a few passes by the house, we can stay till dark and break in, or we can mount long-term surveillance with a few others…there are many ways.
‘And what will you do once you find Holt?’ he pushes on before Zeb can reply. ‘For all your badass rep, you were never the cold-blooded execution type.’
‘Are you done?’
‘Just.’
‘We are not going to do anything you’ve suggested. We’re parking right opposite her house to sit for a few hours.’
‘I figured you were going to say something like that. Do you know what a spoilsport you are, Zeb? All these gadgets…when am I going to get to use them?
‘And what will you do once you find him? What if you come across him in the subway? You can’t take him to the Feds because they told you to back off. They might, in fact, go after you. If the cops get him, they’ll just hand him over to them. Other than the execution option, I don’t see a Plan B or a Plan C.’
‘I’ll be handing him over to the DRC’s Embassy.’
Broker sits in stunned silence for a beat, then laughs long and loud — right into New Jersey.
Chapter 9
They reach Williamstown close to noon. A small town with barely twenty thousand people, a town that can be driven through in an hour and forgotten in less than that. A town for retirees and those who want to escape the rapidity of large cities.
They find Pamela Whitlock’s home without much difficulty and make a few passes in front of it. The house is set back from the street and is surrounded by foliage. Broker has the house blueprints, so they look them over — it’s a six bedroom with front and back gardens. The gardens are surrounded by tall trees and have an exit to the side. Broker has activated the body-heat detector in his Civic, and it comes up empty. No one in the house…or nothing the machine can detect.