Point of Control (20 page)

C
HAPTER
37

Monday, March 23, 12:55 p.m., Washington, DC

Jocelyn wiped the sweat from her forehead, put on her jacket, and headed out of the studio. Salsa dancing during her lunch hour three days a week was a new routine, but so far, she loved it. And she’d lost five pounds. If only she could stick with it. Her job would get in the way eventually, though. A noon meeting, a lead that had to be followed up immediately, or simply getting behind on paperwork. They could all sabotage her efforts. But she was determined to not let a single slipup derail the whole effort.

In her car, she changed back into her sensible black work shoes and checked her hair in the mirror. Not that anyone else could tell the difference between her good hair days and bad ones. She opened a granola bar and pulled out into traffic, hoping she’d given herself enough time. After five calls over the weekend, she’d finally connected with Zach Dimizaro’s roommate and set up an interview with him for this afternoon. She didn’t want to be late and give him an excuse to blow her off.

At the Georgetown apartment, she pounded on the door, trying to be heard over the music playing inside. At least it was classic rock and not something that made her want to scream. Finally, she pushed open the door and yelled, “Detective Larson, DC police!”

A twenty-something man jumped up from the couch as if he’d been hit with a cattle prod. He reached for the laptop he’d just shoved aside and clicked off whatever he’d been watching or listening to. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry. You’re Noah Cramer?”

He nodded.

“We have a meeting scheduled, remember?”

He cocked his head, then laughed. “Actually, I’d forgotten.”

Sheesh!
Did anyone under thirty respect the police anymore? “Can we sit down at the table? I have some questions for you.”

“Sure.” Cramer shuffled toward the small dining area, his body even shorter and thicker than hers.

“Do you work in technology too?” She followed him and sat down.

“Of course. I’m an app designer with Zion. That’s where I met Zach.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Three years.” Cramer’s expression shifted, and his voice got quiet. “I can’t believe Zach’s dead.”

Time for the main event. “Where were you Sunday night, March fifteenth, between six and eight p.m.?”

Cramer’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? You think I killed Zach?”

“It’s certainly possible. Where were you?”

The roommate rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not possible. I’ve never hurt anyone. I don’t even like to kill bugs.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “But I’ll check my calendar.”

Jocelyn suspected the gesture was staged. She’d searched Zach’s bedroom two days ago with the manager standing by. The apartment held a collection of mismatched furniture, minimal cookware, and some action-movie posters. No women lived or visited here, and Cramer probably didn’t have much of a social life.

“I had dinner with my parents that night,” he said after a minute. “I was there from five thirty to eight thirty or so.”

Jocelyn asked for their contact information, then moved on. She would circle back to his possible involvement after she checked the alibi. “Did you see Zach Sunday?”

“Yeah, we were both here for the afternoon, then left around five. We’ve been working overtime for months.”

“Did Zach mention where he was going or who he was meeting?”

“He said he was having a drink with a potential investor.”

Someone connected to the chip? “What investor?”

“I think Zach referred to him as Max, but I don’t know his last name.”

Jocelyn wrote it down. Her first real lead . . . and it wasn’t much. “What kind of business deal did Zach have going?”

“He wanted to start his own app business.” Cramer took a sip of the coffee he’d brought to the table. “Zach was a brilliant cryptographer, but he was bored with security. His real passion was financial apps for amateurs.”

“He and his work were well known, then?”

“Oh yeah. He gets recruitment offers all the time.” Cramer flinched. “I mean he did. But like I said, he was tired of encryption.”

“What exactly was he working on?”

“At DigSec he’d coded an unhackable algorithm for mobile devices.”

Nothing new there. “Who would want him dead?”

The young man sat back and shook his head. “I have no idea.” After a moment, he continued. “I mean, someone might kill to get their hands on the encryption software, but it wasn’t his. Everything he produced at DigSec belonged to the company.”

Time to be blunt. “Would Zach steal it to sell?”

A long pause while he stared down into his cup. “A year ago, I would have said no. But things changed for Zach after the DEA tried to recruit him.”

“The DEA?”

“They needed someone with mad skills to crack open drug-dealer cell phones they’d confiscated. Coders who create security software make the best security hackers.”

“But Zach turned them down?”

Cramer cocked his head again, then scoffed. “Some hackers who’ve been busted and owe the government go to work for the alphabet agencies, but most coders aren’t interested in putting people in jail.”

Had he forgotten who he was talking to?
“Did the DEA pursue Zach, or pressure him?”

“No, they just moved on.”

“So why did things change for him after that job offer?”

Cramer kept his eyes on the coffee cup. “Zach realized he hated encryption and wanted to do something else. So he started working on a financial app and looking for investors.”

The roommate was holding back—something connected to why Zach might have stolen the software from his employer. “What else? Was he in financial trouble?”

Cramer shifted in his chair. “To test his app, he bought and sold stocks and tried a few other risky investments. Zach lost money and got into debt with one of the online traders.” He sighed. “He needed cash,
and
he was desperate to quit his job so he could work for himself.”

“Who would he sell the encryption software to?”

“I don’t know. Zach didn’t talk about it.”

“What about the investor you mentioned? Would he buy it?”

Cramer shrugged. “Maybe. But he said the meeting was about starting his company.” The roommate suddenly jumped up. “I don’t want to discuss Zach anymore. I’m starting to think I didn’t really know him, but it’s weird to talk shit about him now that he’s dead.”

“I’m trying to find his killer. You want justice for him, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t know what else to tell you. His funeral is tomorrow, and I have to go pick up his mother at the airport.”

Jocelyn was glad she hadn’t been the one to make that call. Telling parents their child was dead was the worst. She stood and handed him her card. “I hope you’ll call me if you think of anything helpful.”

Heading out, she wondered who she should call at the Drug Enforcement Administration. It would be interesting to find out what the DEA knew about Zach Dimizaro and to learn more about why they’d tried to recruit him.

At the door, she stopped cold. All those recruitment offers Dimizaro had received. What if he’d accepted one of them? Had he been secretly working for another agency or company?

C
HAPTER
38

Monday, March 23, 1:30 p.m., Palisades Mine, Washington

Dana’s mind drifted in a dreamlike state, but she couldn’t sleep. She’d had another seizure that morning while brushing her teeth and woke up on the bathroom floor with a significant bump on her head. The medication they’d provided wasn’t working, but she didn’t care. She almost wished she’d died from the head trauma. She would not finalize the synthetic or give the creepy masked man the formula. The risk was too great that he would tweak it and use it for bombs—or sell it to someone even more evil.

She remembered his threat to kidnap Garrett. Would he really do it? More important, would she give in to save him? How could she rationalize possibly letting thousands of people die just to save one life? If they brought him here, Garrett was just as doomed as she was. Her captors’ facial coverings were her only hope that they might still let her go. Yet she knew that hope was an illusion. They wanted her to believe it, to be willing to do whatever it took to gain her freedom.

The sound of footsteps coming down the hall made her involuntarily curl into a ball. She cursed her own weaknesses. But depression wasn’t something she could control or override. The footsteps came closer. More than one set. Someone was with the keeper!
Please, don’t let it be Garrett.
As the key turned in the lock, she rolled over to face the door. It wasn’t the keeper. The thin man in the ski mask stepped into the room, then moved to the side. In the doorway stood Garrett, hands bound behind his back and a gag over his mouth. His eyes were filled with shame and anguish.

It was all she could do not to charge the masked man and assault him. He was smaller than the keeper but more dangerous. She could tell by the intensity of his eyes. “Let him go!” she shouted, her voice weak. “He’s not involved in this!”

The masked man spoke softly, his voice cold. “I told you I would bring him here. Next, I’ll hurt him and make you watch. Are you going to give me the final data?”

The bastard!
Would he really torture her son? She hadn’t considered that possibility, and she couldn’t let it happen. His pain was her pain. Only more so, because her son was an innocent, and she was responsible for him. “You win. I’ll finish the final process. But you have to let Garrett go.”

“Not until my engineer has the material and says we’re ready to manufacture.”

“But that could take days or a week.”

“Then you’d better get busy.” The bastard turned and shoved Garrett out into the hall, then spun toward her. “I’ll be back to take you to the lab.”

Dana fought her tears. She had to finish the process and hope like hell the synthetic metal worked in devices the way it did in the lab. The kidnapper’s engineer might not even have the skills to handle the material. But at least the testing process might buy her and Garrett time. The FBI had to be looking for them. Her ex-husband might not care about finding her, but he would search for Garrett until he took his last breath. Her son had pushed his father away out of loyalty to her—and she’d let it happen. But his father loved Garrett and had never given up hope of rebuilding their relationship. But would he get here in time?

Dana knew she couldn’t count on it. She’d almost escaped once, and she would try again.

C
HAPTER
39

Monday, March 23, 5:35 p.m., Wanapum, Washington

Bailey drove north on I-90 toward Wanapum, mentally wired from the coffee, yet physically exhausted from constant traveling. The Palisades Mine was listed at 1050 Meadow View Road, and according to Google Maps, the tiny town of Wanapum was the nearest junction of civilization. What little daylight the day had held was fading fast, and she was skeptical about looking for the mine in the dark. The listing didn’t show up when she keyed the name into her GPS, and with her topographical dysfunction, she might not find it without help. She would check into a motel, take a brief nap, then discreetly ask around about the mine.

Soon after passing the town’s welcome sign, Bailey spotted the Sagebrush Inn blinking in the dark with green and red neon lettering. It would do. She just needed a place to sleep and brush her teeth. She parked and headed into the office, glad to stretch her legs. The middle-aged woman at the counter seemed happy to see her and asked if she wanted a room with a view of the town or the countryside. Bailey almost laughed. “Whichever is the most private.”

“I’ll put you on the end, facing the mountain.”

“Sounds good.” Bailey dug out a credit card and started to ask about Palisades, then changed her mind. A hotel clerk was in a position to gossip. She put her credit card away, took out cash, and gave the clerk a phony name. The kidnappers had tried to kill her once, and if this was their territory, they might try again.

“If you’re hungry, the Woodsman next door gives a nice discount to our guests. Just tell them Kay sent you.”

Bailey found her room and tossed her suitcase on a dusty chair. The tacky landscape paintings made the small room even more unpleasant, but it didn’t matter. The hot water in the shower was plentiful, and it revived her enough that she decided to skip the nap. The diner next door might be a good place to ask about the location of the mine.

As she dressed, her phone rang. She snatched it up, but it wasn’t Garrett. His father instead. “Agent Thorpe, what have you got?”

“Nothing. We processed the house as though it were a crime scene and didn’t find any trace evidence. Except a few drops of blood. Garrett might be hurt.”

“That’s why I’m pushing forward without much bureau support,” Bailey admitted. “But I’ve made another connection that might justify a search warrant. Hang on.” She put down the phone, pulled on a sweater, and located her earpiece. “The Palisades Mine was purchased six months ago by a holding company whose owner is Jia Crusher, the wife of Shawn Crusher, CEO of ZoGo, a startup phone manufacturer. He’s been at the top of my suspect list all along.”

Thorpe cleared his throat. “You’re saying he bought the mine before the shortage and crisis, then after it got bad, kidnapped a metallurgy specialist to—” Thorpe stopped midsentence. “It’s a long shot, and even if you’re right, you have no evidence linking Crusher or his mine to the kidnappings.”

“But we have an eyewitness ID of Jerry Rockwell as one of the kidnappers. There has to be a way to link Rockwell to Crusher.” Bailey paced the room, worried that Thorpe would want to wait for a search warrant.

“I’ll get an analyst to do a search of Crusher’s employees and recent transactions.” Thorpe made scratching noises in the background. “I’ll get a subpoena going too, in case we find some evidence to substantiate it. Where are you now?”

“Wanapum. The mine is around here somewhere, and I’m going to find it.”

“Wait for me. I’ll drive over tomorrow morning, and we’ll do this together. As a federal agent, my hands may be tied by legalities, but as a father, I’ll do whatever it takes to find my son.”

“Get here early. We’re running out of time on North Korea’s execution threat, and I believe Lee Nam is up there too.” She hung up so she wouldn’t have to explain her thinking. Thorpe was skeptical enough.

Bailey walked next door to the diner. The sky had cleared, revealing a blanket of stars, and the cold evening air smelled like Christmas. Feeling more upbeat than she had all day, she treated herself to a steak dinner and began to feel human again. She still needed a good night’s sleep, but she thought she’d drive out to Meadow View Road first, just to see if she could find the property. As she paid her bill, she asked her waiter if he knew anything about the Palisades Mine.

“Oh sure. My cousin just got hired. When it reopened, it was a great thing for this town.” The guy was in his late twenties but still had a youthful enthusiasm.

“Do you know the owner?”

He furrowed his forehead. “Nobody does. The employees have to sign an agreement not to talk about their work.”

Crusher sure was a secretive bastard. “Where is it located?”

“At the end of Meadow View Road. But the property is fenced off, and they don’t let anyone but employees in.”

“Why the security?”

“I heard that the stuff they’re bringing out of the ground is very valuable. Are you going up there?”

“Probably.”

“The road splits a few times, and you have to remember the pattern.” He scrunched his face while he worked through it. “I think it’s left, left, right, left.”

Bailey committed it to memory, left him a ten-dollar tip, and hurried back to the motel. She had planned to check her email, then go out again, but exhaustion overwhelmed her. As worried as she was about Garrett, she knew it wasn’t logical to drive around in the dark to find a property with a security fence that she didn’t plan to scale. She took off her clothes and crawled into bed, leaving her phone and her weapon on the nightstand.

She woke to a beeping sound and sat up. What time was it? How long had she slept? The sun wasn’t peeking through the curtains, so it couldn’t be that late. She grabbed her phone and looked at the screen. It was six thirty a.m., and Havi was calling. “Bailey here.”

“I woke you, didn’t I? I forgot about the time difference.”

“It’s fine. What have you got for me?” She struggled out of bed and looked for her pants.

“Jia Crusher bought a piece of property in Douglas County, Washington, about six months ago. A house with two acres on Quincy Road. It’s about five miles from the Palisades Mine. I’ll text you the address.”

“Excellent. It’s probably where I’ll find Crusher and his thugs.”

“You’re not going there alone, are you?”

His concern was sweet but misguided. “Don’t worry. An agent from the Seattle field office will be with me. Did you find anything on Crusher? Or Rockwell?”

“Neither purchased airline tickets, but Rockwell is a pilot, so they probably don’t fly commercial. One interesting thing. Rockwell rented a vehicle in Seattle the day before Dana Thorpe’s disappearance.”

Yes!
“That’s the break I need for a search warrant.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It was a bronze-colored Honda Element, which doesn’t match the description the witness gave.”

She wasn’t surprised. “We knew they’d stolen a vehicle for the kidnapping. That one ended up in the lake. But the rental proves he was in the area, which is not coincidental.”

“But that’s Seattle, which is not connected to either property in central Washington. And you still haven’t linked Rockwell to Crusher. You need more for a judge to sign.”

Fucking rules!
A flash of rage possessed her. “To hell with it! I don’t need the damn paperwork. I know those people are up there!”

“Give me a little more time,” Havi soothed. “I’ll come up with something.”

Her plans wouldn’t change. “Thanks, Havi.”

She texted Thorpe the information, then went out for a quick morning walk. Still half-dark, the town’s streets were deserted, except for an occasional truck or beat-up car heading out of town. Were they going up to the mine? Bailey averted her face when the vehicles passed, just as a precaution. She grabbed a quick breakfast at the diner, then checked her email. Nothing from Thorpe yet. What if he didn’t show up? His supervisor might have other directives for him.

Too restless to sit around, Bailey got into her rental and drove it across the street to buy gas. Inside the little store, she looked around for supplies she might need and picked up a pair of binoculars and a couple bottles of water. After paying for everything, she headed in the direction of the mine. The highway was nearly empty, and she passed a field of sheep, an abandoned lumber mill, and a couple of mobile homes. She slowed as she approached a junction. Sheep Canyon Road. That was the turn. From here, she had to drive about twenty miles, find Meadow View Road, then follow the directions the waiter had given her.

It proved more difficult than that, and she had to backtrack at least twice. But an hour later, she spotted a wide clearing in the distance—with a few buildings perched at the edge of what appeared to be an asteroid-sized crater. A six-foot iron fence ran along the road, blocking access to the property. Bailey pulled over, shut off the car, and grabbed the binoculars. She spotted the gravel entrance but didn’t see any guards. Just a gate with coded security. That was worse. Without the code, they would have to scale the fence to get in. Unless someone was monitoring the gate and decided to let them in. Not damn likely.

She itched to charge through the trees, scale the fence, and search for the victims. But once she was on the mine’s property, there was no cover, just wide-open space. She’d be an easy target if a guard in one of the buildings decided to take a shot at her. That had been the point of her recon, though—to see what she and Thorpe would be up against. She forced herself to turn the car around and head back into town. She’d spent her whole adult life trying to override impulses, but it never got any easier.