Cartwright yawned. “Then there’s nothing we can do. I won’t ruin my career by going up against them. I’ll call in and get my marching orders.”
“You do that.” Appalled at the agent’s easy acquiescence, Evan couldn’t comprehend not desperately wanting to put these murderers away and protect innocent lives. That was what got Evan out of bed each and every morning since the day six years ago when Agent Olin Foster lost his life on an op. Evan was in charge of planning the ill-fated op, and Kiley was on the team too.
Evan clamped a hand on the back of his neck. He would soon see her again and relive Olin’s death. His day was spinning out of control and he didn’t like it one bit, but he wouldn’t let it stop him from hearing about any discovered evidence.
At the container, he put on booties and gloves and stepped over the threshold. This time he noticed savory ginger lingering in the air, and the place was lit by several Klieg lights. He spied Philips in the back loft where he was lifting evidence with a tweezer.
Evan climbed the ladder. “Got time for a quick review of your findings?”
“Sure, why not?” Philips bagged the item as he sat up, his head brushing the top of the container. “This is quite the operation. Self-contained water system with a large enough tank to provide fresh water for four weeks for two people. Composting toilet with container in back for disposal. Solar generator, and I expect when the containers on top of us are removed, we’ll find the panels.”
The comment drew Evan in like a puzzle might do, but it didn’t make sense. “The panels would be seen and questioned by dockworkers.”
“They’ve cut windows in the sides, lining up the cuts with a painted logo to camouflage them.” He tapped the ceiling. “This isn’t the container’s exterior. When we’re able to see the top, I expect we’ll find sliding doors that open to reveal the panels.”
Evan shook his head. “They thought of everything.”
“Looks like it. Except they didn’t count on you finding the container.”
“As sophisticated as they seem to be, it’s a good thing I did.”
Philips nodded. “We’ve lifted a crazy number of latents. I did a quick comparison. We’ve got five distinct prints.”
“You think five people came over in here?”
He shook his head. “The rest of the evidence suggests only two. I suspect the other prints were left by people preparing the container.”
Evan got out his phone to add the information to his notes program. “You’ll get those processed as soon as possible?”
“We have an agent standing by to fly the prints and DNA samples to our lab in Quantico today. You should also know I found explosive residue and bomb-making supplies.”
Evan had been afraid they’d find evidence of explosives. Not only did his EOD experience tell him such a thing was likely, but so did his years as an ICE agent. Most people thought ICE was all about deporting illegal aliens. They did that, sure, through the Enforcement and Removal Operations, but they also focused on transnational crimes by investigating the illegalmovement of people and goods and funds into, within, and out of the United States, which included terrorism.
And that meant Evan needed to know what the tech located. “Specifically what did you find?”
“The most concerning thing so far is fragments of white phosphorus. I located a jar of it in a large storage bin under the couch.”
“That’s not good.” Evan knew the compound was highly unstable and very dangerous. “I’m a former Navy EOD tech and saw it used to make IEDs in Afghanistan. Rained down fire on soldiers, and they couldn’t put it out.”
“Yeah, it’s bad stuff. Eats through clothing, skin, metal. You name it. Smothering it with dry sand or submerging in water will extinguish it, but it’ll ignite again the second air touches it. Fragments in a bomb can cause unthinkably horrible burns.”
“What else did you find?” Evan asked, as if the white phosphorus wasn’t bad enough.
“Electronics mostly.”
“I need to see them.”
“Already cataloged and in the truck. You’re welcome to take a look.”
“I’ll check it out and come back for the rest of your update.”
“Suit yourself.”
Evan dropped his booties at the door and headed outside. Cartwright was still leaning against the command truck, his phone in hand. Evan had no idea what the guy was doing. Likely playing games.
In the back of the vehicle about the size of a package delivery truck, a white-suited tech was cataloging and storing the evidence.
Evan smiled at her. “I’d like to take a look at the recovered electronics.”
