Dark Justice (22 page)

Still,
not likely
wasn’t good enough.

Stone jabbed in the private number to one of his badges—a number known only by him and a few members of FreeNow. The first ring cut off. “Hi.”

“You take care of it?”

“It’s done.”

The TV had turned to commercials. Stone pressed the
mute
button.

“Something else,” the badge said. “Roz was found dead in his car. Shot four times. He had Shire’s computer and backup drive.”

The information jagged through Stone’s veins. “Who killed him?”

“Can’t be sure, but it looks like Hannah Shire.”

Roz’s voice, sputtering, breathy, when he’d called. Stone’s theory had proven right. The man had already been shot. “Where’s the computer and extra drive?”

A second’s pause. “Also taken care of.”

Why did that sound like a lie? “You sure?”

“It’s done.”

Stone nodded, a smile on his face. About time these loose ends of potential evidence were sewn up. No thanks to Roz. Now just one danger remained.

“Stone, I have one more thing. Not sure if it’ll help, but . . . Shire’s got an aunt in Fresno. Margaret Dexter. And a policeman not far from that area thinks he may have seen Shire’s car heading that direction.”

Why hadn’t Tex discovered this aunt? Stone had a gut feeling Emily Shire would be headed to the same place. He smiled. “Good.”

He hung up, more than satisfied.

His next call was to Tex. “Get back here,” he growled, then punched off the line.

Humming to himself, Stone searched his cell’s address book for the number of Mack, his main man in Fresno.

I
buffed my face with both hands. The short sleep had made me feel worse. My body may as well have been drugged and wrapped in chains.

Aunt Margie stuck her head in the bedroom door. “Emily all right?”

“For the moment. She’s on her way here. She’s being chased too.”

My aunt’s eyes widened.

“I have to use your computer again.”

She waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

I sat down at my aunt’s small desk and searched for Homeland Security. The organization had to be our saving grace. They’d know what to do. If I’d had my head on straight—and more sleep—I’d have called them hours ago.

The website popped up: www.dhs.gov. I searched the home page for a phone number. Not too far down in the middle was a
How Do I?
box. The top link read “Report Suspicious Activity.”
Yes
. I clicked on it and read.

Report Suspicious Activity

What You Need To Know

Prompt and detailed reporting of suspicious activities can help prevent violent crimes or terrorist attacks. If you see suspicious activity, please report it to your local police department. Local law enforcement officers can respond quickly. Once they assess the situation, they can obtain additional support.

Start Here

Citizens should always call local law enforcement.
If you see something suspicious, please call local law enforcement.

I leaned back in the chair, head shaking.
Three
times they said call local police? I
couldn’t
call local police.

Back to the site’s home page. Under the
How Do I?
box near the bottom was a link to
Report Cyber Incidents.
That had to be it. I followed the link. The next page was full of information about cyber incidents but had no phone number. Near the end was another
Report Cyber Incident
link. I clicked it—and ended up on a form.

They wanted me to fill in a form and submit it? There was no time!

I searched the links at the top of the page. Clicked
About Us.
At the bottom of that page I found a phone number.

With a quick prayer, I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Computer Emergency Readiness Team, Agent Johnson.”

My heart picked up speed. “Hi. I’m . . . I need to report an incident.”

“Did you fill out the form on our website?”

“No time for that. You have to do something now. In the next eight hours. At 7:00 tonight Pacific Time the western electrical grid plus the area that includes Washington, D.C. will be hit.”

A long pause. “Would you give me your name, please?”

I cringed. “I don’t want to give it.”

“Okay. Tell me more about what you know.”

I told him, my words tripping over each other. How I’d met Morton Leringer. The flash drive. The men chasing me.

“And this is supposed to happen tonight?”

“Yes. And tomorrow it happens to the rest of the eastern grid. And the next day, Texas. The video says so.”

“You gave this video to your local sheriff’s department?”

“Yes, but—”

“Your department will be in contact with Homeland Security.”

“I thought
you
were
Homeland Security.”

“We’re a team within the department.”

“Then give me the main number.”

“If you have seen suspicious activity, you need to report it to your local law enforcement. You’ve done that. Rest assured that law enforcement will be in contact with DHS.”

“But they won’t because the sergeant there is one of the terrorists!” My hands were shaking. Why wouldn’t he listen to me?

“Ma’am, that is a very serious charge you’re making.”

Oh, tell
me
it’s serious. “Look, I think I know where the key to the encrypted message is. If you’d just listen to me and get to it—”

“What sergeant in which sheriff’s department?”

“Sergeant Wade. Moss Beach substation, part of San Mateo County, California. And he’s got a deputy working with him. Harcroft.”

“All right. I’ll contact the substation. If you’ll give me your phone number I’ll get back to you.”

With a phone number they could find me here.

What if they’d traced the number already? Or captured it through ID?

I smacked the
Off
button. Then put down the phone. I stared at it, at the computer. What had I done?

Mom and I couldn’t stay here any longer. They could come for me anytime. But if I woke her up now, she’d be too tired. She’d fight me hard. Likely go into one of her meltdowns.

I pushed to my feet. If I could sneak out now, maybe Aunt Margie would let me leave Mom here. She wasn’t the one the police were looking for anyway.

My gaze swung back to the computer. What if I could find a main number for Homeland Security? Not their cyber branch.

I sat down again and searched the DHS home page. At the top was a “Contact Us” link. Should have gone there the first time. I followed the link, and after a couple clicks, found the number for the Operator.

Here we go again.
I dialed the number.

“Department of Homeland Security.”

“I need to talk to someone about a terrorist attack that’s going to happen tonight.”

“Just a moment, please.” The operator sounded so calm, as if she heard such words every day. My heart was already beating double time. This was my last chance for help.

“Hello, I’m Greg Branson. You say you have news of a terrorist threat?”

Relief trickled through me. “Yes.” I launched once again into my story. “The video says 7:00 p.m. tonight for the western electrical grid, and 10:00 for the area that includes Washington, D.C. Tomorrow and the next night, it’s the rest of the country.”

“And you say this video has been given to the sheriff’s department in Moss Beach.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter. Sergeant Wade is part of the terrorist group. And I think Deputy Harcroft is too. I don’t think they’re doing anything with the video.”

“Why do you think this sergeant is part of the group?”

“He sent two men to kill me. At my house. Now he’s hunting me down on TV, telling everyone I’m a suspect in the death of Morton Leringer and two other men. I didn’t kill them! I just stopped to help at an accident.”

“If your local law enforcement are asking you to come in and talk to them about some homicides, it’s important that you do that.”

“But who knows what will happen to me if I’m put in Wade’s custody? And meanwhile, no one’s doing anything about this video!”

“You don’t know that. They may well be working on it.”

“Really? Have they contacted you about it?”

Silence.

“Don’t you think this is something Homeland Security should know?”

“Certainly. Here’s what we need to do. You should go to the nearest police station so you can talk to the sheriff’s department about the homicides. They’ll want to question you. I will contact the Moss Beach substation to see what they know about the video. We’ll take it from there.”

If he called the substation, they’d just put him in touch with Wade. Or Harcroft.

“There’s not much time for talk. You need to get the key to the encrypted message, which tells how to stop the attack.”

“I will speak to the sergeant about that.”

“He won’t tell you the truth! Look, I think the key may be sewn into—”

Aunt Margie’s doorbell rang. I froze.

“Hello?” Branson’s voice filtered through the phone. “You there?”

Had that cyber team already discovered where I was?

I crept over to the window and eased back the curtain.

A police car sat at the curb.

SPECIAL HOUSE SELECT COMMITTEE INVESTIGATION INTO FREENOW TERRORIST ACTIVITY OF FEBRUARY 25, 2013

SEPTEMBER 16, 2013

TRANSCRIPT

Representative ELKIN MORSE (Chairman, Homeland Security Committee): So we are now up to around 11:15 a.m. on February 25, 2012. What were you doing at this time?

Sergeant CHARLES WADE (Sheriff’s Department Coastside): I was going door-to-door in the area where Morton Leringer lived, asking if anyone had seen anything that might have been related to the homicides. This procedure took time. I was also in regular contact with the San Carlos police regarding the homicide of Arthur Rozland. And, of course, I was in contact with many people in the field who were trying to locate Hannah Shire. We had deputies and police officers talking to her neighbors, her friends at work, friends at the church she attended.

MORSE: And you learned some information about Hannah Shire, correct?

WADE: By that time we’d heard from Tina Crylon, the employee at the motel at which Mrs. Shire and her mother stayed briefly. Miss Crylon had seen Mrs. Shire on the news and called our department, but that was a couple hours after the two women had checked out. We then discovered that Hannah Shire had an aunt about an hour away in Fresno—Margaret Dexter. And a policeman in the area thought he may have spotted Mrs. Shire’s car headed in that direction. I called Fresno police and asked them to send someone to Mrs. Dexter’s house.

MORSE: Okay we will come back to that. So what time did you return to the Moss Beach substation?

WADE: About 11:50 a.m.

MORSE: This was after you received the calls from Homeland Security?

WADE: Yes. The first call came into my office line around 11:20. The second came in right after. The substation alerted me on my cell phone. I immediately called the first number—the Computer Emergency Readiness Team of DHS—and spoke with Agent Johnson. He told me about a call from a woman who must be Hannah Shire. In the second call I spoke with Greg Branson of DHS, who told me a similar story.

According to them, Hannah Shire claimed the video she’d given me contained information on a “Phase 1” terrorist attack. I had no knowledge of such information being on that video—and I’d watched it numerous times. Neither had I received any such information from the technician I’d given it to. So it was imperative that I report to the substation right away and look again at that video.

MORSE: But you were not able to look at it. Were you?

WADE: Not immediately, no.

MORSE: Please tell this committee why.

We’re waiting, Sergeant Wade.

WADE: When I returned to the substation and spoke to our tech, Deputy Morris Landow . . . he couldn’t find the video.

MORSE: Couldn’t “find” it.

WADE: That’s correct. He agreed I’d given it to him that morning. He knew where he’d placed it in his office. But it was no longer there. We conducted a thorough search throughout the substation, but it could not be found.

MORSE: So you lost this crucial video. And, as I understand it, there was no backup. Correct?

WADE: There was no backup done by our department. Deputy Landow had not done that yet. He should have, but he didn’t. Needless to say, I was not happy about that.

MORSE: Had he even
looked
at the video?

WADE: He had looked at it numerous times, but had not had time to do an in-depth analysis on it. As it turned out, we didn’t have that capacity at our substation and would have needed to turn it over to the San Mateo County Sheriff’s Department.

MORSE: Why didn’t you do that right away?

WADE: As I’ve told this committee over and over, I could not have known at the time how critical the flash drive was, nor that it contained an encrypted message. And I was working on multiple homicides.

MORSE: But this is the crux of the matter. Because you’ve also told us when you first viewed the video along with Deputy Harcroft, you both knew the equipment in the scene was a power generator.

WADE: Yes. But a short clip of a generator falling apart in and of itself did not signal a planned terrorist attack. That would have been a big jump in logic at the time.

MORSE: It would have been the right jump, wouldn’t it, Sergeant Wade?

Monday, February 25, 2013

I jerked back from the window, nerves searing.

“Hello?” A distant voice from the telephone reached my ear.

I punched off the line and threw the receiver on Aunt Margie’s bed.

The doorbell rang again. Followed by hard knocks.

I ran to the doorway of the bedroom and listened. My aunt’s footsteps sounded in the front hallway. The door opened.

“Margaret Dexter?” A man’s voice.

“Yes.”

“I’m Officer Turney. I’d like to talk to you about your niece, Hannah Shire.”