And then we saw it. A tiny gray fishing wire led from the bottom of the pallet and moved under the U-Haul.
The CIRG agent got down on his hands and knees, and I joined him. Beneath the F-150, we saw a flashing red light on a black box.
“That’s a bomb, my friend,” the CIRG agent said, his voice calm.
The box was planted near the truck’s gas tank… the gas tank Hemmings had filled up when he got to D.C., after passing the pink row house the first time. This might also be a new protocol. To leave thirty gallons of gas beside an explosive.
The CIRG soldier got up and wiped his hands on his pants, hisexpression turning to a smile. “Hooyah, brother,” he said, “you just saved a Navy SEAL. I owe you a life, CIA man.”
“PAR,” I said.
“Whatever. Let’s argue the point across the street while SABT defuses this thing.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
An hour had passed. Each of the corner offices on the floor held one of the four injured men. Emergency workers tended to their wounds, patching them up but not letting them near a hospital or other public place until Poulton said different.
Cassie walked from office to office, staring at each man before returning to the cube where I sat, my eyes glazed with fatigue.
“I looked for Hemmings,” she said, referring to the U-Haul driver. “After what he did to Wells, I got a little satisfaction in knowing he didn’t make it.” She paused as our eyes met. “Is that wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I said, staring out the window where I’d torn off the craft paper. My mind was blank, and my body felt empty.
An image flashed through my head. Frank and I at lunch five and a half years ago. His pitch for PAR.
Frank knew that the FBI sought out genius-level thinkers. He also knew that the Bureau was not shy about recruiting those with aberrant work styles. And he’d seen firsthand the results of that combination: the best and the brightest who were also the oddest—like me—failed in a highly bureaucratic environment. So Frank wentoffice by office, looking for the intellectual misfits. And then he served as our buffer.
But our mission at PAR wasnotto run down explosives or go undercover. It wasn’t to avert deadly disasters or watch as men got their faces cut by a circular saw. Or were drowned to death in a toilet.
“Gardner?” Cassie said.
I had taken my pulse twice in the last ten minutes, and it was still rapid. My mouth felt dry, and I was lightheaded.
A larger team from Justice and CTD had arrived. Frank and Poulton stood in the glass conference room with them, going over next steps.
I got a lot of attaboys from various soldiers, as well as the lead SABT technician, who told me the bomb in the garage had held enough C-4 to take down the pink row house and the four buildings around it, along with a lot of our people in the street.
The conference room door opened, and Frank strode our way. “We can take off,” he said.
“Just like that?” Cassie asked. “What about Sandoval?”
“He was picked up ten minutes ago in Georgia. CTD is taking over the questioning of these four, and one of them already accepted full immunity to turn on Sandoval.”
“No cap?” Cassie said.
“No… cap,” Frank replied, his voice signaling his lack of confidence in the term. “Justice is holding Sandoval on seditious conspiracy. Interstate gun violations. Transporting explosives. Fraud. Attempted murder. About ten other charges.”
Hearing this woke something in me, and I glanced over. Started listening again.
“They checked every cell phone in that home,” Frank continued. “No call went out, and that’s a credit to PAR. Right now, officers aredescending on the homes of these men. Wives will be arrested on suspicion of treason. Kids will be placed in foster care. Trust me. More men will talk.”
It seemed strange that the case had begun with illegal debit cards and quickly ramped up to a threat on the White House. And now, as far as it concerned us, it was over.
“So these other three that got captured…?” Cassie prompted.
“Whoever talks, walks,” Frank said. “Witness protection for their family. But they gotta name names, or no deal.”
“What about Regnar and the others?” Cassie asked. “Sandoval’s crew down in Florida? The dirty cops?”
