“Rodriguez is right, Jake. They might want to keep the search for Dante on the down low. If Burke gets backed into a corner, he might detonate early.”
“Et tu, George?” Jake said.
George shrugged. “I got a job to keep, man. And nobody wants those bombs going off.”
“All right, fine,” Jake said, defeated. “Let’s head over to the big people’s trailer.”
Kelly opened the door of the trailer and was startled to find Jake poised to knock, with George and Rodriguez behind him.
“Hi,” he said. “How’s it going over here?”
“All right, I guess,” she said cautiously. “Did the truck search turn anything up?”
“Um, we decided to go in a different direction.”
“Jake…”
“Trust me, you’re going to like what we have to say.” He glanced past her shoulder, where Leonard was tucking his computer into a case. “Going somewhere?”
“Phoenix, actually. We figure since it’s Burke’s district-”
“Oh my God,” George interrupted. “You’re right, it’s the perfect target. Can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”
Rodriguez groaned at the mention of Phoenix.
Jake gave Kelly a hard look. “Let me guess-invited guests only. And we’re not on the list.”
Kelly shifted uncomfortably at the hurt in his voice. “You said you had something?”
“Can we come in?”
Leonard muttered something under his breath, then waved them in impatiently. “What is it?”
“Wow. You really weren’t expecting us to come up with anything, were you?” Jake grinned. “Nice to be appreciated.”
“Cut the shit, Riley. I don’t have time for it. Our plane takes off in a half hour. If you’ve got something, spit it out.”
Jake glared at him. Kelly half expected him to storm out of the trailer. But after a long second, he handed over a stack of photos, saying, “Your printer sucks, by the way. That’s the best resolution I could get.”
“Who the hell is this?” Leonard asked, holding up the top picture.
Kelly examined it: a mug shot of a skinhead. He didn’t look like any of the guys she’d arrested in Arizona, but it was hard to be sure.
“Dante Parrish,” Jake said. “Burke’s bodyguard.”
“And I care about this why?” Leonard demanded.
“Because we’re pretty sure he was involved in the kidnapping of the Grant girl. And now it turns out he’s linked to Burke.” Jake shrugged. “But hey, if we’re bothering you, we’ll head back to the kids’ table.”
“It makes sense,” Kelly said slowly. “To get the Aryan Brotherhood on board, Burke would need someone to bridge the gap. He wouldn’t have been able to make those connections on his own.”
“I’m willing to bet if you look, you’ll find photos of Burke with someone involved with the Minutemen, too,” Jake said, jabbing the photo with one finger, “and probably some biker gang. But right now, we got this guy.”
Leonard flipped through the stack, settling on the one with Burke in the foreground. “Okay,” he said finally. “It’s something. I’ll put it out on the wire.”
“That’s it?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, that’s it. Now, I’ve got a plane to catch.” He turned to Kelly. “You coming, Agent Jones?”
“One minute.”
“Fine. But any longer and we leave without you.”
Leonard glowered at Jake as he pushed past. Kelly saw Jake’s jaw go rigid and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t.”
“What?”
“I know that look.”
“He would’ve deserved it.” Jake grinned, but his eyes remained serious. “And I don’t love that you’re flying into a city with a bull’s-eye painted on it.”
“That’s why I was going to call you from the plane,” Kelly said, but at his expression she backtracked. “That was a joke. A bad one.”
“You should know better. Jokes aren’t your thing.”
“Apparently,” she agreed, running her hand up to his shoulder. George and Rodriguez moved a few feet back to give them some privacy. “Leonard isn’t much of an outside-the-box thinker. And I want to stop at least one of these attacks if I can. If we catch whoever is in charge in Phoenix, they might know where the other bombs are.”
“They won’t.” Jake shook his head. “Classic cell structure. There probably aren’t many people who know the whole plan. And only a few will be able to connect it back to Burke. He’s had a long time to plan this.”
“Still, I’ve got to try.”
“This is a hell of a last case,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
“Tell me about it.”
Without warning he pulled her in tight to his chest. “I love you, Kelly. Don’t get hurt,” he whispered fiercely into her hair before letting go.
“I love you, too,” she said, managing a weak smile before trotting to the waiting SUV.
Thirty-Four
“Pull over,” Syd barked. Maltz obliged, screeching to the side of the road. Fribush and Kane jolted forward but didn’t say anything. Syd ran her eyes over the low buildings. They were south of Phoenix, in an area dominated by abandoned warehouses and factories that had seen better days. The first three stops had been fruitless, just a bunch of people clambering over makeshift floats festooned with cheap-looking red, white and blue bunting. The entries ranged from floats with a “love your local farmer” theme, complete with fake orange trees, to papier-mâché tributes to the Declaration of Independence. It all struck Syd as horribly pedestrian, but she complimented their creativity profusely before moving on. They’d been at it for nearly two hours, and she could feel the team’s spirits flagging. If they didn’t turn up anything here she’d break for a meal. She needed them sharp in case the shit hit the fan.
But first, there was one last place to check. An older man at the last site had mentioned driving by a float being assembled farther south. And bingo, within a hundred yards of the place her dosimeter went bananas.
At her tone, Fribush and Kane straightened. “What do you want to do?” Maltz asked.
“Circle once, not too slowly.”
Maltz obeyed, swinging the SUV past the open entrance to the warehouse and continuing toward the rear. Syd kept her face relaxed while she studied the building. The nose of a red truck poked out the door. The familiar tacky patriotic bunting around the cab, a crisp new American flag mounted across the grill. One man visible by the door, most likely keeping watch. No way to know how many others were inside. The main exit was partially blocked by the truck. There was a narrow alley between that building and the one next door; it didn’t look like any doors opened onto it. Around back, a door was set in the wall next to a battered Dumpster, probably an emergency exit since there was no handle. Not good, that meant it might be alarmed. Syd couldn’t see any windows, either; whoever chose the site knew their job. Which didn’t leave a lot of options for her team. At least there were no visible cameras. She waved for Maltz to drive down the block while she turned it over in her mind.
“What do you think?” he finally asked.
“You and I go in the front,” Syd said, “using the cover we discussed. Fribush and Kane check the back to see if they can get in quietly. If they can, signal me via cell and we’ll use the flash bangs, throw them off enough to pin them down.”
“And if the back is locked?”
“Same plan, but on my signal we blow the door. I don’t want them heading out the back while we take the front. There are other cells out there, we don’t want them to know a target has been compromised.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to do a more thorough recon,” Maltz said uncertainly.
Syd shrugged. “I don’t think we have time. The drive-by might have already spooked them.”
Fribush and Kane got out of the SUV, removed two duffel bags from the hatch, and trotted toward the rear of the building. She waited until they were in position, then nodded at Maltz. He pulled a baseball cap down low over his eyes and circled back to the front. The man inside the door stepped out as they approached. Maltz parked at an angle, discreetly blocking the truck, nose slightly out in case they had to leave quickly. Syd pulled out her ponytail and ran a hand through her hair. As she stepped from the car, she flashed the lookout a hundred-watt smile.