The Trap (Agent Dallas 3) (5 page)

Once the congressman entered the banquet space, the rest of the attendees quickly filed in. Dallas glanced inside. Fifty or so round tables, each with a floral centerpiece. The thousand-dollar-a-plate price tag for entry was a drop in the bucket compared to what Bletzo would likely raise in additional pledges tonight. If the sabotage was successful, nobody would have a chance to pull out their checkbooks, and the funds from the tickets might not even pay the expenses. A ping of compassion for the congressman came and went in a flash. He was a misogynist and a warmonger.

Dallas paced back and forth for a moment, acting like someone who’d been stood up. But her black jeans and silk tank top wouldn’t make anyone believe she belonged inside the banquet. An usher in a blue uniform closed both sets of doors, and Dallas took a few steps closer so she could listen for the change in speakers. The usher pivoted and spotted her, then strode over.

Oh hell.
Dallas looked down at her phone.

“Ma’am? This floor is not open to the public.”

Ma’am?
She was only 28. It had to be the hat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. My niece is supposed to meet me here.”

“You’ll have to go somewhere else.” His otherwise bland face puffed with authority. This was his moment to be in charge.

“My niece is only ten. I can’t just leave.” Dallas kept glancing at her phone to keep him from getting a good look at her face.

“You have to go now.” He reached for her arm.

Dallas pulled away, not willing to get into an altercation. “Fine.” She walked back the way she’d come, toward the parking garage exit. She planned to round the corner, then wait and watch the usher to see where he went. Completing her part of the sabotage felt important. She needed the group to trust her with their secrets. Plus, she liked to succeed. Giving up was not in her nature.

She went right at the junction and spotted two people coming up the hall. Business suits, maybe hotel employees. She glanced down at the phone, still in her hand, and slowed her pace. Talking rapidly, the men didn’t stop or seem to notice her. Once they’d passed, she whirled around and trotted back to the corner. Alone for the first time since she’d learned of their plan, Dallas considered notifying her contact. But she didn’t have her case phone, only her Tara Adams cell, and it was dangerous to connect it to the FBI. Besides, the bureau probably didn’t want to bust the inner circle for vandalism. If the activists had actually committed murder or planned something equally criminal, the director would want her to stay undercover and gather intel for a bigger conviction. If she were in charge, that would be her call.

Dallas peeked around the corner and spotted the usher walking away from the double doors. She broke into a jog. She might only have a few seconds. Even if Aaron hadn’t taken over the system and started broadcasting, she would lock the doors now anyway. It might be her only chance. The lobby was empty, and the usher still had his back to her. Mindful of the cameras, Dallas stopped and dug the key from her pocket.

As she locked the first set of double doors, a wild thought hit her. What if Luke and Abby had lied to her? What if they planned to set the place on fire, locking the rich donors inside?
Oh shit!
No, that was too heinous and would serve no purpose. She crossed to the second set of doors and hesitated. Trusting her instincts, she went for it. Hands shaking, she turned the locks and bolted down the hall. Dallas rounded the corner and headed for the exit to the garage. She would have to contact the bureau ASAP. If Aaron hadn’t blocked the cameras, the FBI would use facial recognition software to ID all of them. Drager needed a heads-up. Heart pounding, she pushed through the exit and crossed to the cement stairwell in the parking garage.

“Hey! What’s your hurry?” A male voice called from behind.

Security? Or maybe just a jackass trying to hit on her. Dallas broke into a run and pounded down the steps. Two minutes later, she was on the sidewalk and moving briskly around the block. Her first thought was to stop someone and borrow their phone to text Agent Drager. A trio of young women approached, and she paused. No. Luke or Aaron could be watching. Or Abby could be right behind her, after taking the same route. Dallas didn’t have enough time to send a detailed text anyway, and if she were late getting back to the van, they might leave her. She needed to stay with them and learn their base location. The report would have to wait until she was alone or could meet Drager somewhere. Dallas kept moving and took the next side street.

When she climbed into the van, Luke asked, “You get it done?”

“Yes.” She grabbed his arm. “Promise me Abby isn’t setting the locked room on fire.”

He pulled back, obviously disturbed. “Hell no. We’re trying to change the system, not burn it down.”

“Good.” Dallas surprised herself and burst out laughing. “That was fun.”

After Abby scrambled into the van, Luke drove south toward Route 66. Behind them in the distance, sirens wailed, heading toward the hotel. Cree, who’d boarded a minute earlier, revealed that he’d almost been caught by a security guard.

“I nearly peed my pants!” He practically vibrated with energy.

Dallas felt a little giddy too. “An usher ran me off, but I circled back. The whole thing was surreal.”

Abby laughed at both of them. “You think that was nerve-racking? Wait’ll you hear what we’ve got planned next.”

“What?” Dallas pulsed with eagerness to know.

“Not yet. We’ll talk at the meeting.”

Once they’d crossed into Virginia and the rush hour traffic had thinned, they stopped at a market. Abby made a quick trip inside to buy beer, tequila, and a couple of fresh pizzas to cook later. Dallas followed her in, but the store didn’t have a public restroom where she could make a private call. They were back on the road six minutes later.

“Can I have a beer?” Dallas asked, her nerves still humming.

“Not in the car,” Luke said. “We don’t take chances of getting arrested for stupid little shit.”

“That’s cool.” Her throat was dry and she wished she had some water. “So, Abby, how did you get involved with JRN?”

Abby turned in her seat to face backward. “I saw a link to the website and started reading the blog. I loved what they were doing. After what I went through with the justice system—” She made air quotes around the word
justice
. “—I had to get involved. So I attended a rally at the capitol building, and that’s where I met Luke.”

Dallas had dossiers on all of them, but the paperwork never told the whole story. “Were you living in DC at the time?”

“I was at a recovery house in Arlington, Virginia. I’d only been out of rehab for three months and couldn’t find a job.” She patted Luke’s arm. “But Luke got me hired as a dishwasher at the bar where he tended, so I was able to afford my own place and get more active in JRN. After we formed the inner circle, we all moved in together.”

Dallas had been stuffing envelopes and making fundraising calls for the national organization too, as part of her cover. Repetitive deskwork wasn’t in her comfort zone, and she’d hated every moment of it.

“What about you?” Abby asked. “Why did you join the movement?”

Dallas had rehearsed her lines. “Every time I heard about another innocent prisoner serving a long sentence or someone being killed in jail, I knew I had to do something. So I finally moved to DC to get involved. Justice reform is our most important social issue.”

“Getting rid of drug laws is the critical first step though,” Cree cut in, still too loud. “Without possession charges, we could close half our prisons.”

Abby shook her head and launched into a speech about pushing for changes that voters would support, such as getting mandatory minimums. Cree disagreed, and Luke joined the discussion too. In the backseat, Aaron was sleeping. Dallas took it all in, admiring their passion for a worthy cause—but not their methods. The larger national group with thousands of members kept it legal, with petitions, protests, and boycotts. She respected that. But this small radical group had crossed a line—and who knew where they would stop.

Once they turned off the freeway and headed out into a rural area, Dallas paid attention to every turn, squinting in the near dark at road signs to memorize names. After another ten minutes, Abby handed her a folded bandana. “Put this on. Our base location is a secret.”

Damn!

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Luke said. “She’s in the circle now.”

“We’ve never brought anyone to the base unmasked before,” Abby argued. “Why should
Tara
be an exception?” Abby put just enough emphasis on her name to make a subtle accusation and gestured for Dallas to put on the bandana.

“I could get lost coming out of a paper bag, so you’ve got nothing to worry about anyway,” Dallas joked as she tied the black cloth behind her head. Even blindfolded, she could still track the time and general directions, then let Drager know approximately where to find the place.

Fifteen minutes later, after a slow-moving left turn, she heard the crunch of gravel under their tires.

Cree touched her arm. “You can take it off now.”

Dallas grabbed the knot and pulled the bandana off her head without untying it. Under a bright moon, she spotted big open spaces—agriculture fields, she guessed. At the end of the lane, a cluster of tall trees swayed in the wind, and beyond them sat a huge two-story farmhouse. Behind it were the outlines of several other buildings. The van stopped and Dallas opened the door, ready to stretch her legs.

“Wait,” Cree blurted, grabbing her arm. “Let Abby go first. Her dog Treck is out there, and he’s quiet but deadly.”

Another good reason to keep from alienating Luke’s girlfriend. After Abby and Luke both climbed out and greeted the dog, Luke pulled the door open. “Treck, this is Tara, a friend of ours. Be nice.”

A pit bull, dark as the night, vibrated beside Abby’s legs. Dallas decided to charm the damn thing just like any other member of the group. She grabbed the pizza boxes and stepped down from the van. Treck growled. She refused to be intimidated. “Hey, big guy. Get over yourself. I’ve got pizza.”

The dog trotted over, sniffed at the food and wagged his tail. Relieved, she put out her hand and let him sniff her. If Treck liked pizza, he might be a beer drinker too. She would subdue him one way or another.

“He likes you.” Abby sounded relieved and disappointed. “Let’s go inside and heat up dinner. I’m starving.”

They all moved toward the porch steps. At the top, Aaron turned to her. “Wait here while I get my scanner.”

Thank god she’d left the GPS tracker at the apartment. She feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?”

Luke stepped forward. “No. Let’s go inside.”

Aaron didn’t move from the doorway. “I want to scan her before she comes in. It’s my responsibility to keep us electronically safe.” Aaron grinned. “You think the feds wouldn’t send a pretty blonde to spy on us?” He nodded at Dallas. “No offense. I’m sure you’re clean.” Aaron went inside.

Well, fuck.
But it wasn’t the first time she’d been questioned by a member of a group she’d infiltrated. Criminals tended to be paranoid—with good reason.

Luke caressed her shoulder. “Humor him and wait here, okay?”

“Sure, but I thought Aaron was just a techie. Is he in charge?” It seemed right for Tara’s role to be a little defensive.

Abby and Cree pushed past her to go inside, and the dog did too.

Luke stayed by her. “Cree is the real coder. Aaron’s an analyst who predicts patterns and can find information online. He’s also a great tech guy, and we need him. But he doesn’t run this operation.”

Patterns of what?
“He does sound useful.”

The door came open again, and Aaron stepped out with a handheld frequency detector. It probably picked up signals from all kinds of digital transmitters, including bugs, trackers, and Wi-Fi. Aaron held it six inches from her body and followed her contours, making her feel a little naked.

“Let me see your cell phone.” Aaron held out his hand.

Dallas pulled it from her backpack and looked at Luke. “Is this really necessary?”

He didn’t respond.

“If the phone is the only electronic you have, we’re about done here.” Aaron handed the cell to Luke, and he walked inside with it. Aaron ran the scanner around her again. “Okay. We’re good. Welcome.”

“Thanks. I think.” Dallas gave him a hundred-watt smile. “Let’s go celebrate.”

They ate at a massive dining table, with everyone laughing as they told favorite beer-and-pizza stories from high school or college. Dallas related a true account of vomiting pepperoni on a police officer after being arrested for public drunkenness, only it was her mother’s incident, not hers. Abby announced she could top that story and detailed a blow-by-blow version of a time she’d sideswiped a cop car while high on oxy and mushrooms. Dallas glanced around. These people were criminals and targets, but at the moment, she enjoyed their company. Cree was funny and sweet; Luke was informed, passionate, and sexy; and Abby was entertaining. The activist’s blogging skills translated to a verbal storytelling talent that kept Dallas’ attention.

Around eight thirty, Luke said, “Let’s move to the living room and talk strategy before we get too drunk.”

Abby jerked her head toward him. “Is it too soon?”

“No.”

Dallas knew they were talking about her and whether to trust her with their plans. She gave Luke a tiny wink for taking her side.

Luke stood and tapped Dallas’ shoulder. “I’ll give you a tour of the house while they clean up.”

She started to protest that she needed to help with the chores, but Luke took her arm and steered her away. Cree threw a wadded napkin at her. “Don’t worry, you’ll be on kitchen duty for a week once you’re not a guest.”

They wanted her to move in? Excellent! It was happening sooner than she expected.

They walked under a wide arch opening into a long living area that was essentially two rooms, separated only by bookcases that jutted out on both sides. “This home was built a hundred years ago by the local doctor,” Luke said, moving through the living space and into the square hallway. “These are mine and Abby’s bedrooms, plus a main bathroom.” He pointed at the doors as he talked.