something?” Luke asked. “Transmission’s a little fuzzy on my end.”
Travis feared he had growled or made some other sound to signal his frustration. He needed to get a better grip. Only Luke, his closest friend, knew about his former relationship with Leah, and he had kept this information to himself.
Travis had admitted to their boss, Special Agent in Charge Ted Blessing, that he was acquainted with Leah. After all, they were from the same hometown, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out they had gone to school together. But no one knew he had planned to marry her. “Looks like she’s headed to Durango, too,” he said.
“Give them ten minutes, then we move in.” Blessing’s voice, deep and sonorous as a preacher’s, shifted Travis’s focus to the mission. He and Luke and Blessing and the other members of Search Team Seven were moving in for a “sneak and peek” at the interior of the cabin. They had wrangled a warrant that gave them onetime permission to go inside, look around and plant a couple of bugs that would, they hoped, provide the evidence they needed to arrest and convict Braeswood, Roland and Leah of terrorist activities.
The Bureau suspected the trio had ties to a series of bombings that had exploded at two major professional bicycle races around the world. Blessing and his team had stopped a third bombing attempt in Denver last month, but the bomber had died before he could give them any more information about his connections to these three.
Travis stowed the binoculars and prepared to move down from his lookout position in the rocks across from and above the house. When the signal came, Luke and Blessing would move inside with the rest of the team and Travis would station himself at the end of the driveway, alert for the premature return of the house’s occupants.
“Recon Three, you hear me?” The flat, Midwestern accent of Special Agent Gus Mathers came across with the question.
“You’re loud and clear,” Travis answered.
“Best-case scenario, we’ve got an hour,” Mathers said. “I don’t like the looks of that drive—too steep and narrow, and situated in the curve of the road like it is, we won’t have much warning if someone comes. You’ll have to stall them at the bottom of the drive. Tell them we’ve got an explosive fuse or something.”
“An explosive fuse?” He made a face. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds good, doesn’t it? Something you wouldn’t want to interfere with. There’s nothing in these folks’ backgrounds that shows they know anything about electricity. Just do what you can to keep them back if something comes up.”
“Nothing will come up,” Travis said. “Even if they drove to Durango and immediately turned around and came back, it would take them an hour.”
“Better to be prepared. And let us know if you see anybody else suspicious.”
“I know my job.” And like everyone else on the team, with the exception of their commander, Blessing, he knew all the players in this case—even ones who were on the periphery or merely suspected of having some tie. The Search Team Seven members were all “super recognizers”—agents who literally never forgot a face. Travis hadn’t even realized other people shared his peculiar talent until he had been recruited by the Bureau. He could see someone once, in person or on video or in a still photo, and pick them out of a crowd months later. The Bureau hoped the team would prove useful in identifying suspected criminals before they acted. So far, they had had a few successes, but this terrorist operation was their biggest operation yet.
“Okay, we’re going in now.” Special Agent in Charge Blessing gave the order.
Travis waited while a utility van with the logo of the local electric company moved slowly down the road and turned into the driveway of the log home. As soon as they reached the house, Luke, Blessing, Mathers and the three other team members inside would pile out and go to work. Mathers and Special Agent Jack Prescott, who had trained with the Bureau’s TacOps team before transferring to Search Team Seven, would replace the living room and bedroom thermostats with identical units that contained listening devices, while Luke and Special Agent Cameron Hsung swept the premises for any incriminating evidence. Luke would download the hard drives from any computers onto a portable unit, and Hsung would photograph anything else that looked suspicious.
When Travis was confident the rest of the team was in place, he slipped across the road to the front of the house. Dressed in khaki cargo pants and a long-sleeved khaki shirt with the logo of the electric utility over the breast pocket, he would appear to anyone watching to be a utility worker repairing a malfunction or inspecting equipment. He knelt in front of the electrical box at the end of the drive and pried off the cover. He pretended to study its contents, though he was really scanning the approaches to the house. One hundred yards ahead on the same side of the road, a paved drive led to a glass-and-cedar chalet, the log home’s closest neighbor. A retired couple lived there. The intel reports noted that they didn’t go out much.
A soft breeze rustled in the aspens that lined the road, sending a shower of golden leaves over him. Another month and they’d have snow here in the high country. Already the highest peaks of the San Juans showed a light dusting. Leah would be happy about that. She had grown up in Durango and liked to ski. Was that why the trio had ended up here, after abandoning the house they had rented in Denver, only a few days before their friend Danny had tried to set off a bomb at the Colorado Cycling Challenge bike race?
“Hello! Is there a problem with the electricity?”
Wrench raised like a weapon, Travis whirled to see a slender man with a head of hair like Albert Einstein step from the shrubbery beside the road and stride toward him.
“Our sensors indicated some bad wiring.” He lowered the wrench and delivered the line smoothly, though he had no idea where the words had come from. What sensors? Did electrical wiring have sensors? “We’ve got a crew up at the house checking it out.”
The man glanced up the driveway, a worried vee between his bushy eyebrows. “I saw the van from my house. Did Mr. and Mrs. Ellison give you permission to enter their home while they’re away?” he asked.
Ellison was the alias Braeswood had adopted in Denver and was sticking with here in Durango. The “Mr. and Mrs.” made Travis wince inwardly. Leah hadn’t married the guy, had she? Six months had scarcely passed since she returned Travis’s ring.
He realized the old man was waiting for an answer. “It’s less disruptive for us to do the work while they’re out of the house,” Travis said. Undercover Tactics 101: know how to bluff.
The man’s frown morphed into a glare. “I didn’t ask whether or not it was convenient for you. Did you get their permission?”
“I’m sure my supervisor spoke to them,” he said. He made a show of focusing once more on the interior of the utility box, though every nerve was attuned to the old man and his reaction. All he needed was for this guy to decide to phone the utility company and ask about the group of “workers.” Or worse, this nosy neighbor might decide to call Leah or her “husband.” Even thinking the word made his stomach churn.
“Does this have anything to do with the power outages we had last week?” the man asked. “I called twice to report them, and the woman on the phone said they would check things out, but you all are the first workers I’ve seen.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer to that.” Travis tried to look friendly and humble. “I’m new on the job.”
“I
