Desh and Metzger had only been in place for a few minutes when a large black Cadillac pulled onto the road nearest to Putnam’s spread. The car’s windows weren’t tinted, probably once again to prevent any raised eyebrows in the neighborhood, but Desh knew a heavily armored car when he saw one and this one was armored to the gills—more tank than car.
Desh carefully turned a dial on the binoculars and focused in on the driver. Bingo! It was Sam. Samuel Frank Putnam in the flesh. They had been lucky. If they had arrived even five minutes later they would have missed his departure.
Within minutes the car was out of sight, heading in the opposite direction from where they were stationed, toward Fort Meade. Desh signaled to Metzger and they both returned to Kira’s motor home.
“Showtime,” announced Desh to the group. He handed Metzger and Griffin a gellcap from the stainless steel bottle Kira had given him. “Put these in your pockets,” he instructed. “Use them only in an absolute emergency.” He held the pill bottle out to Kira. “Kira?” he said.
She shook her head. “No thanks,” she said with a sigh. “Just kicked the habit.”
Desh and Metzger strapped rucksacks on their backs that had been stuffed full of gear during the drive to Putnam’s farm.
The colonel had gotten another hour of concentrated sleep while they drove, but was now fully awake. Desh had insisted that he stay behind to man the RV and to guard their flank.
Desh turned to the major, who was waiting for him. “Go with Matt and Kira and take up a concealed position just outside the chain-link fence,” he instructed. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Metzger looked puzzled but didn’t question Desh’s order. He took a last glance at Desh and Connelly and exited the vehicle with the two civilians in tow. They arrived at the outer perimeter of the property and waited behind a group of trees for Desh to join them. Five minutes later he arrived.
“What was that all about?” Kira whispered to Desh.
“I needed to be sure the colonel was all right,” he whispered back, “and to bury the pill canister away from the RV. Just in case.”
Desh pulled a pair of wire cutters from one of many pockets in his vest. After a few minutes of snipping links he carefully removed a three-foot square section of the fence, hoping that the transformed Matt Griffin was as good as he thought and the vibration alarm really had been rendered impotent.
They each scurried through the hole in the fence and advanced, crouching low to the ground until they came to another grouping of trees, which the entire team knelt behind. Desh removed his rucksack and propped it behind one of the trees, along with his submachine gun. Metzger held his MP-5 at the ready to protect Kira and Griffin while Desh peered around a tree with binoculars.
He scanned the area for several minutes. Finally, turning back to the others he mouthed, “Back in five minutes,” and then, pulling a tranquilizer gun from his vest, he stole away without a sound. The team had agreed they would only use lethal force on Putnam’s security people as a last resort. While this was being decided, Desh had an odd feeling that he was forgetting something important about the events at the safe house, but try as he might he couldn’t put his finger on what this might be.
Desh had waited until the roving security guard had moved well out of sight of his planned approach to the outer barn. The guard was still dressed as a farmhand, although his clothing was considerably warmer than it had been in the satellite photos. He and his colleague were probably quite competent, but they were overmatched by someone with Desh’s training and field experience, and lulled into a false sense of security by their faith in the perimeter alarms.
Desh crept to the side of the outermost barn and peered inside. The second guard was seated with his back to him, at a large bank of twelve monitors, twenty yards away. Desh glided forward noiselessly with his gun extended, rapidly closing the distance between them. He was able to get to within five feet of the man before he began to spin around, startled. Desh shot him in the thigh and he slumped in his chair, unconscious.
Desh studied the monitors to confirm the other security guard hadn’t moved from his position near the large horse pen, and plotted his approach. He exited the barn and circled around the property so he could come up behind the second guard. Once he had a bead on the man, he stalked him for several minutes, gradually working his way closer. He silently covered the last few feet and fired. This time the guard hadn’t had any warning at all and melted to the ground as the tranquilizer took immediate effect.
Desh pulled out his binoculars and surveyed the area. Everything looked to be in order. He double-timed it to where Metzger could see him and signaled for the rest of the group to join him. Minutes later they were at the back of the house. Desh chose a suitable window and shattered it with the back of his submachine gun, using the weapon to quickly clear away the jagged glass remaining around the perimeter of the sill. All four intruders climbed through the window one at a time until they were all safely inside the residence.
Putnam’s house was large, about 5,000 square feet. The front door opened into a living room on the left and a glass enclosed study on the right. The kitchen was spacious, with large stainless steel appliances, blue granite countertops, and a large cooking island in its center. The interior of the house was in direct contrast to its simple, rustic exterior, and managed to clash atrociously even with itself. While all of the furniture was a minimalist, ultra-modern steel, glass, and silver, the rest of the interior was reminiscent of a European palace, with crystal chandeliers and baroque oil paintings displayed in elaborate, carved wooden frames.
It was 8:30 and they still hadn’t heard the three telltale tones that would tell them that Putnam had reset the device that threatened Kira Miller, providing a twelve-hour stay of execution. No one had brought it up, but it was weighing on all of their minds.
Griffin sat at the computer in Putnam’s study and called up several screens. The rest of the team stood behind him, eagerly looking over his shoulder. “This might take a while,” he said after a few minutes. “I have to break through security and then try to find a needle in a haystack. That’s presupposing Putnam left any evidence on this computer in the first place.” He sighed. “And I’ll be trying this the old fashioned way. As much as I’d like to become a hotrodding God of a hacker again, I’m not sure I’m up to it yet. It takes a lot out of you.”
“No question about it,” said Desh.
“If I haven’t made solid progress by one or two this afternoon,” said Griffin earnestly, “I’ll take another gellcap and go to town.”
Desh nodded but wasn’t certain he liked the idea. The antisocial effect was cumulative and Griffin hadn’t handled his altered state well the first time.
Griffin bent to work on the keyboard while the three armed members of the team conducted a systematic search of Putnam’s home, looking for any clues or information that might prove useful. After forty minutes of searching, Desh activated the small microphone dangling from a cord running down his neck and checked in with Connelly in the RV. The colonel reported that all was well, and that he had not observed any suspicious activity in the vicinity.
Desh was searching through an upstairs room when Metzger’s voice came through his earpiece. “David, meet me in the basement. Something I want to show you.”
“Roger that,” he said.
Desh moved briskly and arrived at the basement just ahead of Kira, who Metzger had also summoned. The room was nicely finished, including the ceiling and walls, and was carpeted. Metzger was standing next to a door in the far corner of the basement. He motioned for Desh and Kira to join him as he opened the door and stepped through.