Michelle Gagnon - The Gatekeeper

With a sigh she powered down her phone. It had been a long day. Given some time to ponder the true meaning of the three strikes law, maybe one of these guys would cave. If not, she’d have to come up with something else.

Kelly debated stopping by the hospital to talk to Rodriguez, then decided he’d already been through enough for one day. And the truth was she was so tired and angry, she didn’t trust herself to stay professional. He’d put a lot of lives at risk by not following protocol. Chances were he’d be too sedated to talk anyway. Better to get a good-night’s sleep, then she could deal with him in the morning.

Dante perched on the edge of the couch, hands on his knees. He’d only been in Jackson ’s house once before, on another late night visit. That time, though, he’d been bringing good news. It was much more difficult to enjoy the opulent surroundings with Jackson raging around the room.

“Explain to me again how these orders were misinterpreted.”

“I-”

“Didn’t you instruct them to be discreet when they made that call?”

Dante shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I told them to go somewhere no one knew them. Somewhere in a spic neighborhood.”

“And why, exactly, did they not follow that order?”

Dante wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. And incredibly guilty, even though he personally had done nothing wrong. These were his men, and Jackson counted on him to make sure they executed every stage of the mission perfectly. They’d failed him, so he’d failed Jackson. “They got lazy.”

“They got lazy!” Jackson roared, emphasizing each word. “This was the most important part of their mission. But they used the pay phone directly outside the bar?”

Dante said feebly, “They said there aren’t many pay phones anymore-”

“And they’re right!” Jackson jabbed a finger into Dante’s chest, and he winced. “You should have provided them with cell phones. Untraceable, disposable phones. Why didn’t you?”

“I figured that’s what they’d use.” Dante said in a small voice. “I told them how important it was-”

“So you trusted them to figure that out for themselves?”

Dante simply nodded.

“And that’s why I’m disappointed with you, Dante. A leader never leaves a single decision to the men beneath him. He dictates their every move, their every action. Success on the battlefield depends on it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Burke,” Dante said, after a long pause indicated he was meant to respond.

“Good. About that other thing, is it in process?”

Dante nodded. “They should be in Houston by dawn.”

“Excellent.” Jackson waved a hand, dismissing him. Dante paused on the threshold.

“Sir, Sergeant Croll wants to know who their lawyers are.”

Jackson ’s eyes narrowed. “What lawyers?”

“It was something I’d promised them, sir. Since you told me they’d be covered…” Dante’s voice trailed off under the force of Jackson ’s gaze.

“That coverage was intended for active cells that accomplished their goals.”

“Yes sir, but considering, you know, what they did…” Dante focused on the floor. “It would keep them from shooting off their mouths. Not that they would,” he added hurriedly. “But if they knew you were looking out for them, they’d have even less reason…”

He raised his eyes to find Jackson regarding him coldly. One thing he’d learned in three years of working for the man, he did not like to lose, and this definitely fell into the loss column.

“Get them someone. But make sure it doesn’t lead back to me.”

“Yes sir.” Dante quickly left the room, barely breathing until he’d crossed the threshold.

Jake fought through the traffic idling curbside. He spotted Syd standing at the end of the platform, dressed entirely in black. It took another five minutes to get to her. He popped the trunk and she threw her bag in, slammed it shut, and practically dove into the front seat.

“So how was first class?” he asked, noting the flush in her cheeks. Clearly she was excited about something.

“Mediocre. They didn’t even have warm nuts.” She pulled off her sunglasses and leaned over to punch an address into the GPS. He caught a whiff of shampoo as a strand of her hair brushed his face.

“Hey, I already got that-” he protested, but she cut him off.

“Change of plans. We got a hit on the GPS signal from Madison ’s game console.”

“No shit?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I know. I didn’t think it would amount to anything, but had one of my guys tackle it anyway. And lo and behold, it pinged late last night. Got the message from him when I landed.”

“So we know where she is?”

“Well, we know where the DS Lite was. It stopped transmitting a few hours ago, so we need to hurry. Should be there in less than an hour unless you drive like a granny.”

“I drive just fine.” Jake snorted. To prove it, he veered across two lanes of traffic, darting onto the on-ramp for 880 North. “So are we calling in the cavalry?”

“No need. I’ve got a team ready.”

“Yeah? That was quick.”

“I put them on standby when Randall called. Figured since she was taken from SFO, she might still be in the Bay Area.”

“Not bad, partner,” Jake said grudgingly.

“They’ll have vests and sidearms for us.”

“You sure about this? If things go south, there could be a lot of fallout…”

“Believe me, I trust this team a hell of a lot more than some Feds who’ve never been outside Hogan’s Alley. If she’s still alive, we’ll get her.”

“All right,” Jake said, despite a twinge of unease. He’d never been a stickler for the rules either, but like most former operatives Syd followed a completely different code. For them, rules didn’t exist. And he was more than a little concerned about what she considered a crack team. “So where am I headed?”

“ Benicia. I’ve got to make some calls to find out if everything is ready, so shut up and drive. I’ll tell you more when we get closer.”

Madison pressed her ear to the door. She’d been up most of the night waiting for it to fling open again, terrified of what that asshole was going to do. She was pretty certain they were going to kill her.

In both hands, Madison clutched the metal tray they brought her meals on. It was old, rusty around the edges, with Olympia Brewing Company in fancy scrawl above a painting of a lady in a hat. It had always struck her as incongruous, especially now. Usually Lurch came to take it away, but last night he’d never rematerialized. She wondered if he couldn’t face her, knowing what was about to happen.

The tray was a flimsy weapon, but better than nothing. She planned on waiting in the shadows beside the door. When it swung open she’d launch herself forward, try to catch him square across the face. Hopefully startle him enough to make a break for it. It was a long shot, and she knew it. It didn’t matter how many push-ups she did, he’d still easily overpower her. But maybe she’d buy herself enough time to get above deck. She had to try. And if it turned out they were in the middle of the ocean, she would jump overboard and drown. That was still preferable to whatever sick torture he had planned.

After the man stormed off she’d heard arguing. It sounded like just the two of them, but it was hard to tell with the echoes and distortion. She pictured Lurch standing with his head down, getting yelled at. For some reason that hadn’t made her feel better.

Nothing but silence for hours now. Usually they brought breakfast right around dawn, but based on the fragments of light seeping into the room it was already late morning. Madison wondered what the hell was going on.