Debra Webb - Colby Justice

“We’ve got movement!”

The warning came from Ted Tallant, another Colby investigator who’d insisted on staying on the scene. He’d been keeping watch over the front of the building across the street. His curly, blond hair was a little longish, and reminded Penny of the surfer dudes who hung out along the sandy beaches of Malibu. His gold eyes were friendly and he seemed to always be smiling. Colby investigator KendraTodd maintained surveillance from a position on the backside of the building. Penny hadn’t met Kendra but she’d heard her voice a number of times over the communications link.

Both Kendra and Ted had refused to leave after being released by their captors and having their minor injuries treated. Numerous others had wanted to stay, but their injuries and state of exhaustion had dictated otherwise. Besides, Penny presumed that if this thing dragged on much past noon, it was very likely that relief would be required. Those working now might have to stand down so that others more rested could take over.

Not to mention that keeping the whole operation below the official radar of the police and city maintenance grew less and less feasible as the minutes ticked off. The wrong kind of attention could blow the operation.

Penny followed the rest of the crew to the window where Tallant offered his binoculars to his superior, Ian. “The man entering the building,” Tallant explained as he pointed toward the figure stepping through the front entrance, “is Leonard Thorp.”

Thorp had shown up around eight, as Penny recalled. About the same time she had arrived. Then he’d left for half an hour or so. That he carried a large box as he entered now was disturbing. The possibilities of what could be inside that single box presented additional concerns.

Ian peered through the binoculars, evidently wanting to confirm Tallant’s conclusion with a close-up. “The mock trial will likely get underway now,” Ian said. “The box Thorp is carrying is marked as Sensitive Case Files.” He lowered the binoculars and shifted his attention to those gathered around him. “Moving forward cannot wait. We don’t have another moment to waste.”

A chill raced up Penny’s spine. The tension in the room rocketed to a new level.

The men started talking at once. Penny watched as the sedan that had dropped off Thorp drove away. Ian had explained that Thorp’s stepdaughter had been murdered last year by drug and prostitution ringleader Reginald Clark, also known as The Prince. Thorp had spent months putting together a revenge strategy after the pathetic case against The Prince had fallen apart in court. His revenge included the former Cook County district attorney, Timothy Gordon, and a pivotal juror, Victoria Colby-Camp.

According to the man who’d led the siege of the Colby Agency, Gordon was getting a second chance to do the right thing. As was Victoria. The Prince would be executed when found guilty…within the next twenty-three hours. Anyone who got in the way, made a wrong move, etcetera, would be terminated as well.

The Colby Agency had been forced by the terrorists who’d taken the staff hostage to deliver Gordon. No contact with the authorities had been permitted. If their effort had failed or if they’d chosen to contact the authorities, everyone inside would have been murdered. A no-win situation.

The Colby Agency had broken a number of laws. So far, murder wasn’t one of them. But unless Steele and Penny could get inside and neutralize the situation first, at least one man would die. The agency would be an accessory to homicide.

The likelihood that this so-called Prince deserved to die was not the issue. This mock trial was a witch hunt pure and simple. Thorp and his minions had to be stopped before yet another line was crossed. One the Colby Agency might never be able to overcome.

“Let’s gear up,” Steele said to Penny.

Penny grabbed her duffel and headed to the ladies’ room. A black spandex bodysuit would allow for unimpeded movement as well as camouflage in the darkness. Although it was daylight outside, inside the inner structure of the building it would be dark. Damned dark.

Drawing in a big, deep breath, she shook off that last thought and clipped into place the wireless earpiece that would provide the necessary communications with the command center here in the coffeehouse. Gloves, and rubber-soled shoes designed for whisper-quiet steps and incredibly firm grip came on next.

After tucking her fiery red hair into a black skullcap, she grabbed the night-vision goggles and draped them around her neck. They were light, small, but immensely powerful. The technology had come a long way in recent years. Not that she’d had occasion to use such technology in the past. Not really. As a forensics technician she’d used many other types of goggles, but never ones for scouting out prey in the dark.

Despite her determination, a shiver raced over her skin once more. She would not let foolish worries get to her. The next few hours were far too crucial.

She pulled a lightweight but roomy backpack from the duffel of supplies. Inside the backpack were climbing tools and aids. A serious flashlight and a small first-aid kit, along with water packets and a couple of energy bars. Whoever had put together their gear had thought of everything.

Including a weapon and another type of head-wear. Looked like a ski mask but was made from the same stretchy material as the suit she wore. She told herself that dying this first day as a Colby Agency investigator was not going to happen. Allowing that kind of negativity would only work against her determination.

Wasn’t going to happen.

She stepped out of the restroom and shrugged on her backpack. Her new partner, who’d exited the men’s room, glanced her way. She summoned her waning courage and confirmed, “Ready.”

As she came up beside Steele, who was dressed similarly, the bodysuit clinging to lean, well-honed muscle, Ian gave one last block of instruction.

“We cannot hear anything inside. We have no visuals. All communications, including the security monitors, have been disabled as far as what we can attempt to access from here. That does not mean that those monitors are inoperable to those inside. So beware. However,” he countered, “what we can detect is movement.” He sent a nod toward Lucas. “Thankfully one of Lucas’s contacts provided a thermal-imaging scanner that allows us to determine the whereabouts of all those inside the building.”

Simon directed their attention to the building’s blueprints, which had been downloaded into the thermal-imaging system. “Fortunately there was no one else inside the building at the time of the takeover, so the only warm bodies are on the fourth floor.” His gaze locked with Penny’s. “Our floor. We have Victoria, Clark, Gordon and seven members of the enemy’s team. Eight, now that Thorp has entered the mix. They show up as hot spots, red dots, if you will.”

“If anyone leaves the fourth floor—” Lucas picked up from there “—we can alert you as to their movements. But that’s our limit. There is nothing we can do to help you if you run into trouble. We can’t rush in—that’s not an option. Bottom line, once you get inside, you’re on your own.”

Penny moistened her lips and ordered her respiration to remain steady. Ian Michaels had briefed her on the potential risk. This was nothing new.

“The ability to warn us if the enemy is headed our way is better than nothing,” Steele allowed, acknowledging Lucas’s firm warning. “At least if we know they’ve detected our presence, we can brace for trouble or run the other way.”

“Once we’re inside,” Penny ventured, studying the blurred, reddish images on the computer screen, “you’ll know where we are as well, right?” She wasn’t that familiar with thermal imaging, but it made sense if the body heat of the enemy could be detected hers and Steele’s could be as well. To some degree, the idea that the rest of the team would know their whereabouts was comforting.