Mark Young - Off the grid

“Get down,” Jack hissed, eyeing the patrol unit slowly approaching. The others sank as far down in their seats as they could. Gerrit heard Willy whisper, “You’re sitting on my face, Redneck. Move over.”

“I can’t,” the big man muttered. “And if you don’t shut up, I will make sure you’ll regret it. I had beans for dinner.”

Jack leaned back. “Would you two shut up? The cop’s coming our way.” He stepped outside and pretended to lock the car. He walked back toward the hotel, just as the patrol car edged past.

Gerrit peered over the dash and saw that Jack had positioned himself on the far side of the patrol vehicle, drawing the officer’s attention away from their car. The officer leaned out to talk to Jack when it appeared the officer received a radio call. He gunned his engine, driving rapidly to the other parking lot.

Jack sprinted back to the car, turned on the engine, and hurriedly drove from the lot. “Someone called in two suspicious people near our van, trying to break in. A big white guy and a skinny black guy.”

“We were nowhere near the van,” Redneck said.

Willy muttered something as he pulled himself up. He leaned forward. “You think Geronimo snitched us off?”

Jack shook his head. “The cops didn’t even know the van was theirs. If Geronimo wanted to take us out, there were quicker ways to do that without involving the van. That would only lead back to him. The van is too conspicuous.”

“Tell me about it,” Willy said, making a sniffing noise. “All they’d got to do is follow their nose. That van smells like a toilet.”

Jack pulled out on Main Street and accelerated away from the motel. “The call came in anonymously, otherwise more units would have been flying in on this. The first unit checks it out, then calls for backup if they need it. Someone tried to jam us up-and it wasn’t Geronimo.”

Gerrit withdrew one of the disposable cell phones and dialed a number A familiar voice answered. Gerrit tightened his jaw. “Why did you give us up, Geronimo?”

“No choice. Your face is plastered all over the news, and we just received a department-wide alert you might be in the area. If they learned I helped you, it would be my badge…or worse.”

Gerrit slammed the cell shut and hurled it outside. He shifted, his arm draped on the back of the front seat, trying to give more space to Alena wedged between him and Jack.

Alena squeezed his arm. “You okay?”

His eyes met hers for a moment, nodding. “Let’s just focus on the operation. We need to put some distance between us and the motel and get ready to take care of business.”

The others fell silent as Jack pushed the engine, staying just under the speed limit. It was going to be a long night.

Harrogate, England

Joe O’Rourke felt like he was in a drama class. Sporting a wig, a mustache, and a floppy hat, he hoped his amateur makeup would throw off any facial-recognition programs aimed his way. The thick nonprescription glasses added yet another distortion to any photos of him they might have on file.

Now, he was in Kane’s backyard. Time to step up his counter-surveillance measures.

He moved down the clothing aisle, picking out a pair of trousers and a shirt. He clutched a bag of toiletries he’d gathered from another shop a block away. One more stop at a nearby restaurant, and then he’d head back to the bed-and-breakfast to begin his search once again.

He placed the items on the counter, waiting for the clerk to ring it up. As he started to look out the window, Joe caught the man giving him a quick, worried look. Joe looked back at the clerk, a slim and bony man, who quickly averted his eyes and seemed to study the register more than was necessary.

“Anything else, sir?” The clerk ventured a glance before looking away again.

“No, that’s all,” Joe said, studying him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. Nothing at all. Sorry.”

Joe gathered his purchases and left the store. As he passed through the doorway, he glanced back and caught the clerk staring again. The man abruptly turned and walked to the rear of the shop out of sight.

Something about the man’s look made Joe uneasy. He glanced up and down the street but saw nothing that might arouse his suspicion. A young couple, baby in a pouch, passed by him, the father giving him a polite nod. The mother smiled.

Farther down the street, children played on the sidewalk, completely oblivious to anyone watching. He looked the other way and saw an empty street, two cars passing him, heading for the center of town.

His eyes searched for any danger, anything that might warrant a closer look. Nothing. A relaxed, laid-back afternoon. He walked toward the restaurant just around the corner.

Once inside, he tried to relax at a table in the back that allowed him a view of anyone entering the establishment, and-through a picture window-anyone outside who might be following him. Again, only a normal afternoon outside. Still, he couldn’t seem to relax. The clerk’s eyes raised a flag in Joe’s mind. What could have possibly warranted such a look? Maybe he was imagining all this.

After the waiter took his order for fish and chips, Joe pulled out his laptop and found a strong wireless signal. He tapped in his password, which simultaneously opened and decrypted his files. Joe opened up his e-mail account. No messages. He opened up a new e-mail format and typed a quick message to Willy before closing it up.

A half hour later, after finishing his meal, Joe checked one last time for any messages. Seeing none, he closed it up, gathered his packages, and prepared to leave the restaurant.

Nightfall had finally descended. Joe hurried outside and made his way toward the bed-and-breakfast. He might be able to get in a few more hours studying Kane’s computer system before calling it a night. If he couldn’t find out anything more useful by tomorrow, he would reach out to his contacts here in the United Kingdom and attempt a closer visual search of the complex. He hoped to get good news from those in New Mexico.

A young man held on to an older woman’s arm as they approached a quilt store Joe just passed. The woman seemed to walk with difficulty and the man patiently supported her, matching her slower steps.

Joe rushed ahead and held the door open for them. The couple swept pass, the man giving him an appreciative nod. Joe let the door close and turned toward the sidewalk just as he felt something jam into his neck.

His body began to convulse as an electric shock coursed through him. It was the last thing he remembered.

“We got him, boss.” Richard listened to one of his men over the telephone. “Nobody spotted a thing. We were able to get him to the car as if he’d had one too many drinks. What do you want us to do with him?”

Richard thought for a moment before responding. “Put him under and dump him into a large crate. Bring it here like you’re transporting equipment. Move it downstairs and we’ll put him in our interrogation section.”

“You got it, sir.”

“Did he have anything with him?”

“A laptop and a few bags of personal items. Clothes, toothbrush, that kind of stuff.”

“Bring it all here-particularly the computer.”

He hung up and clapped his hands together. Finally, he’d gotten his hands on the man who had eluded him all these years. Everything was coming together.

His source came through at the last moment. Joe and Willy were very cagey, and they’d built a system that could easily trap anyone trying to send a message to Richard. The source used old-school contact points, messenger and courier services that hand-delivered messages to Richard. Time consuming, but much safer. This time, Richard learned O’Rourke was on his way, although the message wasn’t delivered until the man was already in country.