Split Second (70 page)

T
ully ripped off the fax and began piecing the four sheets together. The Maryland Parks Commission had faxed an aerial view of Harding’s property. In black and white not much could be seen through the acres of treetops. The first thing Tully noticed was that, from above, the area looked like an island except for a sliver that connected it to the mainland. The property jutted out into the water with the Potomac River on two sides and a tributary river on the third.

“The SWAT team is assembled and ready to go,” Cunningham said as he entered the conference room. “Maryland State Patrol will meet you on the other side of the toll bridge. Are those any help?” He came around the table and looked at the map Tully had just finished taping together.

“Can’t see any buildings. Too many trees.”

Cunningham pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bent down to examine the map. “From what I understand, the facility housing the generator is in the upper northwest corner.” He ran his index finger over the spot that resembled a black-and-gray mass. “I would think the house would need to be close by. Any idea how long Harding has lived here?”

“At least four years. Which means he’s settled and knows the area. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a bunker somewhere on the property.”

“That seems a bit paranoid, doesn’t it?” Cunningham raised his eyebrows.

“The guy was a recluse long before he and Stucky started their business. Some of the computer video games he sells are his own creations. The guy may be a computer genius, but he’s weirder than hell. A lot of the games are antigovernment, white supremacist garbage. He even has one called ‘Waco’s Revenge.’ Lots of Armageddon-type stuff, too. Probably sold truckloads of it in 1999, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s well prepared.”

“What are you saying, Agent Tully? You mean we might have more problems on our hands than busting a couple of serial killers? You think Harding may have an arsenal in there, or worse, have the property booby-trapped?”

“I don’t have any proof, sir. I just think we should be prepared.”

“But be prepared for what? A stand-off?”

“Anything. I’m just saying if Harding is as extreme as his games would suggest, he could freak out with the FBI showing up on his doorstep.”

“Wonderful.” Cunningham stretched his back and walked over to the bulletin board where Tully had tacked up printouts of Har-ding’s Web site next to photos of the crime scenes.

“When is Agent O’Dell scheduled to be here?”

Tully glanced at his watch. She was already a half hour late. He knew what Cunningham was thinking.

“She should be here any minute now, sir,” Tully said without indicating he thought that she might not show up. “I think we have everything we need. Is there anything I’m forgetting?”

“I want to brief the SWAT team. We should let them in on your suspicions,” Cunningham said, looking at his own watch now. “What time did Agent O’Dell leave D.C.?”

“I’m not really sure. Will they need any extra preparations?” He avoided his boss’s eyes, just in case he could see that Tully was stalling and changing the subject.

“No extra preparations. But it is important they know what they’re in for.”

When Tully looked up, Cunningham was staring at him with his brow furrowed.

“You’re sure Agent O’Dell is on her way here?”

“Of course, sir. Where else would she be headed?”

“Sorry, I’m late,” O’Dell came in as if on cue.

Tully restrained the deep sigh of relief he felt.

“You’re just in time,” he told her.

“I need a few minutes with the SWAT team, and then you’re on your way.” Cunningham headed out the room.

As soon as it was safe, Tully asked, “So how close to the toll bridge did you get before you turned back?”

O’Dell stared at him in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Does Cunningham know?” Suddenly she seemed more angry than concerned.

“Why would I tell Cunningham?” He pretended to look wounded. “There are some secrets only partners should share.” He grabbed a bundle from the corner, handed her a bulletproof vest and waited for her at the door. “Coming?”

T
ully ripped off the fax and began piecing the four sheets together. The Maryland Parks Commission had faxed an aerial view of Harding’s property. In black and white not much could be seen through the acres of treetops. The first thing Tully noticed was that, from above, the area looked like an island except for a sliver that connected it to the mainland. The property jutted out into the water with the Potomac River on two sides and a tributary river on the third.

“The SWAT team is assembled and ready to go,” Cunningham said as he entered the conference room. “Maryland State Patrol will meet you on the other side of the toll bridge. Are those any help?” He came around the table and looked at the map Tully had just finished taping together.

“Can’t see any buildings. Too many trees.”

Cunningham pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bent down to examine the map. “From what I understand, the facility housing the generator is in the upper northwest corner.” He ran his index finger over the spot that resembled a black-and-gray mass. “I would think the house would need to be close by. Any idea how long Harding has lived here?”

“At least four years. Which means he’s settled and knows the area. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a bunker somewhere on the property.”

“That seems a bit paranoid, doesn’t it?” Cunningham raised his eyebrows.

“The guy was a recluse long before he and Stucky started their business. Some of the computer video games he sells are his own creations. The guy may be a computer genius, but he’s weirder than hell. A lot of the games are antigovernment, white supremacist garbage. He even has one called ‘Waco’s Revenge.’ Lots of Armageddon-type stuff, too. Probably sold truckloads of it in 1999, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s well prepared.”

“What are you saying, Agent Tully? You mean we might have more problems on our hands than busting a couple of serial killers? You think Harding may have an arsenal in there, or worse, have the property booby-trapped?”

“I don’t have any proof, sir. I just think we should be prepared.”

“But be prepared for what? A stand-off?”

“Anything. I’m just saying if Harding is as extreme as his games would suggest, he could freak out with the FBI showing up on his doorstep.”

“Wonderful.” Cunningham stretched his back and walked over to the bulletin board where Tully had tacked up printouts of Har-ding’s Web site next to photos of the crime scenes.

“When is Agent O’Dell scheduled to be here?”

Tully glanced at his watch. She was already a half hour late. He knew what Cunningham was thinking.

“She should be here any minute now, sir,” Tully said without indicating he thought that she might not show up. “I think we have everything we need. Is there anything I’m forgetting?”

“I want to brief the SWAT team. We should let them in on your suspicions,” Cunningham said, looking at his own watch now. “What time did Agent O’Dell leave D.C.?”

“I’m not really sure. Will they need any extra preparations?” He avoided his boss’s eyes, just in case he could see that Tully was stalling and changing the subject.

“No extra preparations. But it is important they know what they’re in for.”

When Tully looked up, Cunningham was staring at him with his brow furrowed.

“You’re sure Agent O’Dell is on her way here?”

“Of course, sir. Where else would she be headed?”

“Sorry, I’m late,” O’Dell came in as if on cue.

Tully restrained the deep sigh of relief he felt.

“You’re just in time,” he told her.

“I need a few minutes with the SWAT team, and then you’re on your way.” Cunningham headed out the room.

As soon as it was safe, Tully asked, “So how close to the toll bridge did you get before you turned back?”

O’Dell stared at him in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Does Cunningham know?” Suddenly she seemed more angry than concerned.

“Why would I tell Cunningham?” He pretended to look wounded. “There are some secrets only partners should share.” He grabbed a bundle from the corner, handed her a bulletproof vest and waited for her at the door. “Coming?”

“W
e have to stay back and let them attempt to serve the search warrant,” Tully instructed. He wasn’t sure that O’Dell was even listening. He could hear her heart pounding. Or was that his own heart? The thumping seemed indistinguishable from the rumble of thunder in the distance.

They had left their vehicles far back on the other side of the electronic gate that blocked the road. Not much of a road, really. Tully had seen cow paths that were more easily accessible. Now as he and O’Dell crouched in the brush and mud, he regretted wearing his good shoes. A crazy thing to be thinking about when they were this close to capturing Stucky and Harding.

The Maryland State Patrol had supplied them with a half-dozen officers—officially for the sole purpose of serving the search warrant to the owner or occupants of the house. If no one responded, the FBI SWAT team would secure the area and accompany Tully and O’Dell in a search of the house and grounds. Tully was quick to notice that all the members of the SWAT team wore sturdy boots. At least O’Dell had remembered the FBI windbreakers. He was sweating under the weight of the bulletproof vest, but that didn’t protect him from the wind. Out here in the woods the wind swirled around the trees, crisp and cold. If the thunder was any indication, they would also be wet before the night was over. Night would come quickly in these woods, and with the thick cloud cover they would soon be in the pitch black. Already the twilight was providing eerie shadows that grew darker by the minute.

“There’s smoke coming out of the chimney,” O’Dell whispered. “Someone must be here.”

A faint light appeared in one of the windows, but it could easily be set to a timer. The smoke, however, was a little more difficult to manufacture without someone stoking a fire in the fireplace.

Two of the state patrol officers approached the front door as several of the SWAT team members moved in behind the bushes along the cobblestone path that led to the door. Tully watched, hoping he was wrong about Harding’s paranoia and hoping that the patrolmen would not simply be easy targets. He pulled out his own revolver and started scanning the windows of the house, looking for gun barrels peeking through. The house sat nestled in the woods like something out of a fairy tale. There was a porch swing and Tully could hear a wind chime. He couldn’t help noticing that there were way too many windows for a man who was going blind.

No one was answering the patrolman’s knock. He tried again while everyone else waited quietly. Tully wiped his forehead and suddenly realized that all the chirping birds and rustling forest creatures had also gone silent. Maybe they knew something their human counterparts did not. Even the wind had settled down. The thunder rumbled closer and flashes of lightning streaked across the horizon beyond the wall of trees.

“Perfect,” Tully whispered to no one in particular. “Isn’t it bad enough that this place already looks like something out of
Dark Shadows
?”

“
Dark Shadows
?” O’Dell whispered back.

“Yeah, the old TV show.” He glanced at her, only now she had a blank look on her face. “You know, with Barnabus Collins and The Hand?” There was still no glint of recognition. “Forget it. You’re too young.”

“Doesn’t sound like I missed much.”

“Hey, watch it. Dark Shadows was a classic.”

The two patrolmen looked over their shoulders and into the bushes. Not very discreet. One shrugged. The other put an ear to the door. Then he knocked one last time. For some reason he tried the doorknob, then again looked over to the bushes, pointing and indicating that the door was unlocked. Of course, Tully found himself thinking, why the hell would anyone lock the door out here?

Agent Alvando, who was heading the SWAT team, hurried over to Tully and O’Dell.

“We’re ready to go in. Give us a few minutes. I’ll come back out and give an all-clear sign.”

“Okay,” Tully said, but O’Dell was up, looking as if she was ready to go in with the SWAT team.

“Come on, Agent Alvando,” O’Dell began to argue, and Tully wanted to pull her back down into the brush. “We’re trained agents, too. It’s not like you’re here to protect us.”

She looked to Tully as if for reassurance. He wanted to disagree, but she was right. The SWAT team was here for backup, here to help with the search-and-arrest mission, not to protect them.

“We’ll go on in with you, Victor,” he reluctantly told Agent Alvando.

There was barely enough light to see inside the house. The entry included a hallway down the middle with a great room to the left and an open staircase over to the right. The second-floor landing was visible, separated only by a balcony railing. The team split up with half of them going upstairs, and the other half covering the main floor. Tully followed Agent O’Dell up the stairs. Before they got to the landing, they noticed the SWAT team members had stopped at the end of the hall. Tully could hear what sounded like a voice on the other side of the door where the three men hesitated. They motioned to each other, getting into position. Tully followed O’Dell’s lead and pressed himself against the wall. One of the men kicked the door open, and they stormed the room without a word to each other.

O’Dell looked disappointed when they got to the door and discovered the voice came from one of the half-dozen computers lined up along the wall.

“Click twice for confirmation,” the electronic voice said. “Speak into the microphone when ready.”

From another computer, an electronic voice gave different instructions. “That order has been shipped. Please check the status in twenty-four hours.”

“What the fuck is this?” one of the SWAT team asked.

O’Dell was taking a closer look while the rest of them stayed next to the door watching their backs.

“It’s a whole computer system set up to be voice activated.” She walked from one computer to the next, examining the screens without touching anything. “Looks like it reports the status of his video-game business.”

“Why would anyone want a voice-activated system?” Agent Alvando was at the door.

O’Dell looked back at Tully, and he knew what she was thinking. Why, indeed, unless that person was blind—not just partially, but totally blind.