Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel) (32 page)

G
errit watched Jack Thompson and the others eye each other like boxers entering a ring before the first round. Maybe he was wrong. Jack and Redneck seemed to get along like oil and water. The colonel and the giant looked like they wanted to exchange blows. Gerrit had to find a way to pull everyone together.

“Look,” Gerrit said, “I know Colonel Thompson from my days with Special Ops. He’s a good man, and I’d follow him into combat anywhere. And make no mistake about it, that is exactly what we face here at Millennium Technologies. It was pure luck I spotted Kane’s gal Collette. She’s a stone killer in my book, and she has all the resources of Kane’s people behind her. So whatever help the colonel can bring to the table, I gladly accept. Everyone on board with this?”

Alena and Willy nodded their consent, but Redneck didn’t budge. Gerrit saw a gleam in the big guy’s eye that meant trouble. “Spit it out, R. D. What’s eating you?”

The giant pulled his attention away from Jack and focused on Gerrit. “It’s one thing for you to be calling the shots, jarhead. It’s quite another for Mr. Stars & Stripes here to join our party. I don’t know him from Adam. For all I know, he’s been riding a desk his whole career.”

Jack bristled. “Look here, you dimwitted monkey. I won’t take any lip from some overweight bar brawler. I only work with someone who’ll follow orders, not whine when things get tough.”

Redneck’s fists closed like two sledgehammers.

“Hey, you guys. We’re supposed to be on the same side.” Gerrit turned to the big man. “Look, Joe trusts this man. I trust him, and I’ve been through more than one operation to know this guy is tough. He can help us pull this off with minimum casualties.”

He turned to Jack. “Sir, Beck Malloy and Joe have depended on this group to carry off some very tough assignments—including saving my life up in Seattle. I trust them…and I’m asking you to do the same.”

The fight seemed to slip from both men’s eyes. Redneck’s hands relaxed, the man looking at the others. “If you guys wanna work with this guy, then I guess I can, too.”

Jack’s muscles eased. “Okay, Gerrit, tell me how you want to tackle this op. Let’s figure how to get you in and out in one piece.”

Gerrit motioned for everyone to gather around a table in the motel room. He laid out his plan, eliciting support information Jack might be able to supply.

Gerrit looked at each member of the team. “I’ve got to be honest. Based on these plans and the tools Jack brings to the table, we have a 50 percent chance of success. Timing and surprise must be on our side. We’ll have a small window of opportunity to make this work. Otherwise, our chances of success drop to 10 percent.”

Alena looked at him. “Fifty percent is not good odds. Ten percent…” She just shook her head.

“That’s why it is so important that we work together on this,” Gerrit said. “Understood?”

Everyone nodded. His estimates made everyone seem to finally draw together. Even Jack and Redneck seemed to be getting along by the end of Gerrit’s presentation.

At least for the moment.

Darkness had fallen, and the others had returned to their rooms to get some rest. Jack lay sprawled on Gerrit’s bed, snoring, after their strategy session, staying close in case they needed to move fast. Gerrit paced his room, trying to make sure he’d thought of all the contingencies they might face.

He heard the tires of a vehicle rolling across the parking lot. He opened the curtain and peered down from the second floor. A marked police vehicle pulled next to their van, and an officer had quietly opened his door and drawn his weapon.

Gerrit pulled back into the darkness of the room. “Jack, wake up,” he hissed, never taking his eyes off of the officer below. The cop approached the vehicle, flashing a light inside the van before reaching for his shoulder mike.

He’s calling it in. Did Geronimo sell us out?

Jack stood next to him. Gerrit had never heard the man get up and cross the room. “What do you have, Lieutenant.”

Gerrit motioned toward the scene below. “We need to get out of here. I think we’ve been made.”

Jack nodded and snatched up his bag. “Get the others. Meet me in the back lot behind the motel. I’ll be standing by my ride. A tan unmarked.”

Gerrit nodded, opened the front door, and edged along the outside wall, keeping out of sight from the cop below. Several minutes later, he alerted the others and they quickly snatched up their belongings. He led them down the hall, turning right into an intersecting hallway that spilled into a rear parking lot.

He started down the stairs when a second patrol unit pulled into the back lot. It slowly rolled through the lot, flashing its spotlight on each car. The light illuminated Jack, sitting in a desert-colored Buick sedan. The officer must have spotted the colonel because brakes screeched as the squad car came to a stop. Jack emerged from the vehicle.

Gerrit crouched—motioning for the others to pull back into the shelter of the hallway—as he peered around the coroner. As Jack stepped around his car, the officer sprang from the patrol car, hand resting on the butt of his gun.

“Good evening, Officer. Can I help you?” Jack’s voice boomed out across the parking lot.

“We got a call about a possible stolen vehicle, a van, parked on the other side of this building. Did you see anyone drive up in a white van? It has
Phil’s Plumbing
on the side.”

“No kidding? Stolen, you say?” Jack scratched his jaw. “Can’t say I’ve seen anything. I just came out here to get away from the grandkids. Taking them all the way to Disneyland—a trip of pure torture, if you know what I mean. I’ve just been sitting out here a few minutes, trying to get a bit of peace and quiet. Haven’t seen a soul.”

The officer studied him for a moment, then walked back to his car. A vehicle pulled in behind the police car. A police unmarked? Gerrit tried to peer past the cop’s headlights and focus on the car. He heard a car door open and a man step out. Another car across the lot started up and headlights flicked on. The headlights caught the surprise in the man’s face.

Geronimo Sanchez.

Geronimo walked up to the police car and spoke quietly to the cop. The cop nodded. Both men returned to their vehicles and slowly pulled around to the other side of the building.

Jack climbed back into his car. At least the Albuquerque cop never knew Jack was a part of the team. That would buy them a little time.

Gerrit motioned to the others. They hurried down the stairs and jogged to Jack’s car and climbed in just as another patrol vehicle came into the lot.

“Get down,” Jack hissed, eyeing the patrol unit slowly approaching. The others sank as far down in their seats as they could. Gerrit heard Willy whisper, “You’re sitting on my face, Redneck. Move over.”

“I can’t,” the big man muttered. “And if you don’t shut up, I will make sure you’ll regret it. I had beans for dinner.”

Jack leaned back. “Would you two shut up? The cop’s coming our way.” He stepped outside and pretended to lock the car. He walked back toward the hotel, just as the patrol car edged past.

Gerrit peered over the dash and saw that Jack had positioned himself on the far side of the patrol vehicle, drawing the officer’s attention away from their car. The officer leaned out to talk to Jack when it appeared the officer received a radio call. He gunned his engine, driving rapidly to the other parking lot.

Jack sprinted back to the car, turned on the engine, and hurriedly drove from the lot. “Someone called in two suspicious people near our van, trying to break in. A big white guy and a skinny black guy.”

“We were nowhere near the van,” Redneck said.

Willy muttered something as he pulled himself up. He leaned forward. “You think Geronimo snitched us off?”

Jack shook his head. “The cops didn’t even know the van was theirs. If Geronimo wanted to take us out, there were quicker ways to do that without involving the van. That would only lead back to him. The van is too conspicuous.”

“Tell me about it,” Willy said, making a sniffing noise. “All they’d got to do is follow their nose. That van smells like a toilet.”

Jack pulled out on Main Street and accelerated away from the motel. “The call came in anonymously, otherwise more units would have been flying in on this. The first unit checks it out, then calls for backup if they need it. Someone tried to jam us up—and it wasn’t Geronimo.”

Gerrit withdrew one of the disposable cell phones and dialed a number A familiar voice answered. Gerrit tightened his jaw. “Why did you give us up, Geronimo?”

“No choice. Your face is plastered all over the news, and we just received a department-wide alert you might be in the area. If they learned I helped you, it would be my badge…or worse.”

Gerrit slammed the cell shut and hurled it outside. He shifted, his arm draped on the back of the front seat, trying to give more space to Alena wedged between him and Jack.

Alena squeezed his arm. “You okay?”

His eyes met hers for a moment, nodding. “Let’s just focus on the operation. We need to put some distance between us and the motel and get ready to take care of business.”

The others fell silent as Jack pushed the engine, staying just under the speed limit. It was going to be a long night.

Harrogate, England

J
oe O’Rourke felt like he was in a drama class. Sporting a wig, a mustache, and a floppy hat, he hoped his amateur makeup would throw off any facial-recognition programs aimed his way. The thick nonprescription glasses added yet another distortion to any photos of him they might have on file.

Now, he was in Kane’s backyard. Time to step up his counter-surveillance measures.

He moved down the clothing aisle, picking out a pair of trousers and a shirt. He clutched a bag of toiletries he’d gathered from another shop a block away. One more stop at a nearby restaurant, and then he’d head back to the bed-and-breakfast to begin his search once again.

He placed the items on the counter, waiting for the clerk to ring it up. As he started to look out the window, Joe caught the man giving him a quick, worried look. Joe looked back at the clerk, a slim and bony man, who quickly averted his eyes and seemed to study the register more than was necessary.

“Anything else, sir?” The clerk ventured a glance before looking away again.

“No, that’s all,” Joe said, studying him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. Nothing at all. Sorry.”

Joe gathered his purchases and left the store. As he passed through the doorway, he glanced back and caught the clerk staring again. The man abruptly turned and walked to the rear of the shop out of sight.

Something about the man’s look made Joe uneasy. He glanced up and down the street but saw nothing that might arouse his suspicion. A young couple, baby in a pouch, passed by him, the father giving him a polite nod. The mother smiled.

Farther down the street, children played on the sidewalk, completely oblivious to anyone watching. He looked the other way and saw an empty street, two cars passing him, heading for the center of town.

His eyes searched for any danger, anything that might warrant a closer look. Nothing. A relaxed, laid-back afternoon. He walked toward the restaurant just around the corner.

Once inside, he tried to relax at a table in the back that allowed him a view of anyone entering the establishment, and—through a picture window—anyone outside who might be following him. Again, only a normal afternoon outside. Still, he couldn’t seem to relax. The clerk’s eyes raised a flag in Joe’s mind. What could have possibly warranted such a look? Maybe he was imagining all this.

After the waiter took his order for fish and chips, Joe pulled out his laptop and found a strong wireless signal. He tapped in his password, which simultaneously opened and decrypted his files. Joe opened up his e-mail account. No messages. He opened up a new e-mail format and typed a quick message to Willy before closing it up.

A half hour later, after finishing his meal, Joe checked one last time for any messages. Seeing none, he closed it up, gathered his packages, and prepared to leave the restaurant.