“It’s not that at all. I’ve always thought you’d be a strong leader if you ever wanted to take control. The thing is, though, you’re emotionally invested here, and following emotions rarely results in sound decisions.”
“Don’t worry, I got it,” she said quickly. But did she really? Was she wrong in asking for lead on this investigation that now seemed as if it would be far bigger and wider reaching than she’d first imagined? Maybe far beyond her abilities and control?
She had the knowledge and technical skills. The team had worked many terrorism investigations, as the internet and dark web were often used to recruit and communicate with terrorists. So they all stayed up-to-date on the current terrorism scene and knew the major players and their preferred methods of operating. But as lead, she would have to be careful to keep her emotions dialed in. Not let them dictate her actions. Not let the vision of Firuzeh falling to the ground sway her judgment.
She closed her eyes and meditated on a saying she’d had to embrace to find the courage to move out from under her mother’s control and become a productive adult.
No one has power over you unless you give it to them. You arein control of your life and your choices. Decide yourown future.
Sure, God was ultimately in control, but if her day-to-day actions fell within His will, they were hers to command. And right now, she needed to stay focused. Not worry. Act on what she could impact and do her very best to lead. Think ahead more. Plan.
She opened her eyes. “After we get up to speed on the container, we need to brainstorm the most logical target.”
“Not sure how we can narrow it down,” Cam said. “Unless they found something in the container to help.”
“I’m hoping they did, because so far we have nothing to go on.” She met Cam’s gaze. “Firuzeh was involved in several political groups. Get started on writing an algorithm to search for connections between other group members. Look for anything radical.”
“On it.” He took out his laptop, and she was thankful for his sense of urgency.
For the remainder of the drive, she reviewed the to-do list she’d made on the plane and added a few additional items, so when Sean pulled up to Terminal 18 on the quiet dock, she was prepared to take charge.
She leaned forward to view the many lanes leading up to security booths ahead with cameras pointing at the arriving vehicles. “First thing we need to do is request video footage for this terminal if the JTTF agent in charge hasn’t done so already.”
“I can do that,” Mack said.
She nodded but turned her attention to Sean as he displayed his credentials for the guard, who leaned out of the booth at the security checkpoint. He studied the ID and checked his computer monitor that looked like it hadn’t been updated in years. Hopefully that wasn’t indicative of the rest of the port’s security measures.
“Hang tight and my supervisor—name’s Tony Lopez—will take you back,” the guard said and closed the window on his booth.
Lopez arrived in a small white pickup to escort them onto the property. With it being a weekend, only a few workers were present. Two large ships bobbed at the port wall, and colored steel shipping containers filled several lots. She could easily imagine the organized chaos that would exist when truckers arrived on Monday morning to pick up containers.
Sean parked near a stack of four containers roped off by yellow crime scene tape fluttering in the breeze. Kiley got out, and if she thought the wind was strong at the base, it buffeted her here, and she had to plant her feet wide to take in the scene without losing her balance. A large FBI command truck and forensic truck were parked next to several personal vehicles, and a young man in an FBI windbreaker and khaki pants stood sentry. He held a clipboard, obviously serving as the officer of record. When he caught sight of them, his expression perked up.
“Let’s go find out who’s in charge here.” She snapped her jacket closed and crossed over to the man to display her credentials. She heard her teammates’ footsteps right behind her. “I need to speak to the agent in charge.”
He poked a thumb over his shoulder at a man in tactical attire staring at his phone by the command truck. “Agent Cartwright’s been working the scene.”
She noted he didn’t say Cartwright was in charge. Still, she could gain access through this agent and later sort out the hierarchy.
“Agent Cartwright,” she called out instead of sending this guy to get him.
Cartwright frowned before a broad smile crossed his face, and he eagerly strode toward them. He was tall, slender, confident looking, and had a thick head of ebony hair that ruffled in the wind.
“You must be the RED team. Was just reading about you.” He held up his phone. “Agent Ryan Cartwright. Seattle office.”
Kiley introduced herself and shook hands with him. “So you located this container?”
“Sure did.” His shoulders rose even higher. “Got a warrant. Arranged for security to meet me at the gate and bring me back here.”
“You do all of this alone?” she asked.
Cartwright shook his head. “Me and an ICE agent. He’s inside the container with forensics. Knowing this was big, I called in a super team out of our Quantico lab.”
This agent must think she was an idiot. There was no way he would have the authority to call people in from Quantico, and even if he did, he surely would be interested enough to be inside with the techs. He was obviously exaggerating, but what else was he embellishing?
She shared a look with Mack, and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod of understanding. Seemed like a good time to move on and talk to the ICE agent. “I’d like to see the container now.”
“Sure, sure. Sign in and it’s all yours.”
