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She clicked through folders, checking the date and time on the files. “In this case, it looks as if they have been deleted.”
“Does that mean they’re gone?” asked Rick.
“No, but it makes it a little harder. If the space has been made available and new data hasn’t overwritten it yet, then I can still extract it.” She continued working. “Uggh,” she exclaimed.
“What?” Rick sounded panicked. “Is it lost?”
“No, your daughter kicked me in the bladder. She’s getting more active by the day.” Jenny clicked her mouse, and an array of files appeared on the screen. “OK, I think I’ve got it.”
On screen, the bonnet of Mike’s truck appeared. Jenny dragged the cursor right. “Tell me when.”
Mike watched intently as they relived his drive from the base to George’s neighborhood. “His turn off is coming up.”
Jenny stopped the progress indicator and hit play. On screen, Mike’s truck slowed before leaving the highway and turning onto a side street. Less than thirty seconds later, they made the turn onto George’s street.
“There it is,” Mike exclaimed. “The white van was parked on the street. Jenny paused the video, and Mike punched the plate number into his phone, sending it straight to TJ. “Jenny, you’re a genius.”
“You hear that, Ernie. My wife’s a genius. Guess I’m more than just biceps.”
“Of course, Babe,” quipped Jenny. “You’ve also got a great butt.”
“Burn!” Ernie added, followed by a laugh. “I’ll give you one thing, brother. You’re kicking outside your coverage.”
Chapter Twelve
Deborah Line’s intelligence support team was based in the FBI’s San Diego field office. A common arrangement within the US that allowed CIA officers to coordinate their clandestine elements’ efforts with the nation’s foremost domestic security agency. It also gave her analysts direct access to the FBI’s comprehensive law enforcement databases and networks.
“Boss, you got a minute to go through what I’ve found on Kane?” asked one of Deb’s analysts.
She looked up from her laptop. “Evan, go for it.”
“Guy’s a real dirtbag. Booted out of the SEALs six years ago and was subsequently picked up on a bunch of minor drug charges. Cops must have gone easy on him for being a vet. He didn’t do any jail time, but he was linked to a bikie network dealing drugs up and down the East Coast. A little over two years ago, he moved to the West Coast and was linked to the Hells Angels, based in Seattle. Since then, the Canadian Mounties have connected him to the Victoria chapter. They think he might specialize in acquisition and training around military-grade firearms.”
“That certainly makes sense,” added Deb. “He’s got a niche set of skills in that area that they would value. Any recent reporting regarding locations?”
“An RCMP surveillance team eyeballed him at a dive bar outside Victoria earlier this month. Safe to say he’s probably still in the area.”
Deb’s phone buzzed, she unlocked the screen and read the short message from her husband. “OK, we’ve got a plate linked to Kane. I’ll send it to you now. It’s a Washington state tag, might give us even better fidelity on him.”
“I’ll do that now. I’ve dropped his file into your inbox.”
“Appreciate it, Evan.”
As the analyst left her office, Deb drafted a BOLO and sent it to the head of the FBI field office. He’d punch it out, and across the West Coast, every law enforcement officer would be on the lookout for Kane and his van.
Then she opened the file on the disgraced SEAL. Skimming through the document, she looked for anything that might help TJ and the team track down the missing puppies. Nothing stood out that hadn’t already been mentioned.
“Boss.” Her analyst didn’t bother to knock. “That tag pinged about an hour ago, crossing the border at the Lynden Aldergrove crossing north of Seattle.” He pushed a printed copy of a Nexus card across the table.
The photo was of Kane, but the name read ‘Nigel Paceman’. “So, he’s connected to outlaw bikies, smuggles military-grade equipment, and he’s got access to people who can falsify documents.”
“That about sums it up, boss. Did you want me to reach out to the FBI office in Seattle?”
Deb shook her head. “No, I’ll handle the liaison. I’m not sure this hits the threshold for our involvement. I’ve got some people who might be interested in the military side of the house.”
“No problems. Let me know if there is anything else you need.”
He left, and Deb sent TJ a message. She’d brief him and the rest of the SEAL team in person.
