Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (22 page)

Bernie and I got to work an hour early, both because I couldn’t sleep and because I wanted to be sure I was there when Lindsay showed up. My biggest fear was that my sister would be under some kind of duress, either wearing the suicide vest again or suffering some other form of harm. I’d informed Lieutenant Edna of what was happening last night and met him in his office when he got in.

“The feds and the department already have snipers in place on the roof and on the buildings across the street,” Edna said. “Public safety is their top priority.”

The lieutenant and the brass had been apprised of my prior meeting with my sister and that she’d been wearing a suicide vest at the time. I worried that someone would overreact and put Lindsay in jeopardy. I realized that I had no choice but to keep those fears to myself, knowing that the response was out of my hands.

Leo showed up for work at eight, and I asked him about his granddaughter.

He looked tired as he said, “Meg’s doing much better, finally home.”

“And how is grandpa doing?”

He smiled. “I’m not much for bedside manners, better off being here. Fill me in on what’s been happening.”

I took a few minutes, telling him about Lindsay and also updating him on our cases and the search for Patrick Hopkins. “I think Hopkins is the key to what’s been happening,” I said. “We just have to find him.”

He agreed with me, adding, “You worry about Lindsay. We’ll take care of Hopkins.”

My conversation with Woody and Harry crossed my mind. I told him what they’d learned about Tom Knight. “Did you know him or ever hear about his disappearance?”

He scratched his bald head. “I think I was working out of Metro at the time, but I remember hearing something about it. Never met the guy.”

As the hour for Lindsay’s arrival came and went, I was ready to jump out of my skin. A half hour later, I got a call from one of the patrol units.

“We’ve got a woman over here who says she’s your sister,” Officer Tom Oxford said. “She’s...”

“Where is she?” I demanded.

“On Lexington, not too far from Fountain Avenue.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s got lots of cuts and scrapes, but won’t say what happened. She looks like she’s been abused.”

I got their location and told them I would meet them there. After informing Edna about what was going on, the feds got involved and tried to prevent me from leaving.

One of their agents, a big guy named Walsh, tried to block my path. “We need to check out the situation before you get involved.”

I locked eyes with him and stood inches from his face. “Get out of my way.
Now
. Special Agent Greer has authorized my involvement.”

It was a lie, but it worked. Walsh and the others backed off. Fifteen minutes later, Bernie and I met up on the street with the uniformed officers and my sister—at least what had once been my sister.

“Lindsay, are you okay?” I asked, as I sat on the curb next to her. She had several cuts and bruises on her face. She was dirty and her blouse was ripped. It was obvious she’d been beaten.

“Greer,” she managed, pushing her hair off her forehead and looking at me. “You need to take me to see him.”

Over the objections of the officers who wanted to call an ambulance, I got Lindsay in my car and began heading for FBI headquarters in Los Angeles.

“Tell me what happened to you,” I said to her as I drove.

She exhaled and cleared her throat. “Jenson Moore...he made me promise...”

She didn’t go on. “Promise what?” The traffic was heavy and I had to look away from her for an instant. When I looked back, I was so shocked by what I saw that I nearly ran off the road.

My sister, the young woman I’d been determined to save, had a gun aimed at my head.

“Lindsay, what are you doing?”

She sighed. “I’m doing what I have to. You need to pull off the freeway.”

“Please...”

“Now, Kate. I mean what I’m saying.”

The gun was still pointed at me, and I realized I had no choice but to do as she said. I took the off ramp to Silver Lake Boulevard and turned onto Temple Street.

“What now?” I said.

She motioned to a small park that was up ahead. “Over there. I want you to pull into the parking lot.”

I hesitated. “Lindsay, please, let me help you.”

She motioned with the gun. “Do what I said.”

In a couple minutes, I’d pulled over at the park. It was still early, with only a few cars in the parking lot and a scattering of people walking along a path in the distance. I turned off the ignition and looked at my sister. I saw there were tears in her eyes.

I lowered my voice, dreading the answer to the question I was about to ask. “What are you going to do?”

She took a couple deep breaths and tried to stem her tears. “I have...I have to...to kill you.”

“Why? What’s that going to prove? Jenson Moore will still be out there, and...”

Her voice was full of emotion. “You don’t understand. It’s for the children.”

“What children?” She didn’t respond. “Lindsay, please, tell me what’s going on.”

Her emotions completely took over and she broke down. The gun tumbled out of her hand and fell onto the floorboard. I quickly reached over and picked it up.

I took her by the arm and forced her to look at me, raising my voice. “Tell me what’s going to happen.”

Lindsay’s green eyes, which were the same color as mine and full of tears, found me. “I’m so sorry, Kate. I could never hurt you, but Mr. Moore told me...” She brushed the stream of water from her cheeks. “...he would kill the children.”

“What children? What are you talking about?”

“He’s going to blow up the park using a drone.”

I glanced over at the grassy area where people were walking. “You mean
this
park?”

“No.” A flood of tears sprang from her eyes again as she choked out, “I’m talking about Disneyland.”

I got John Greer on the line. “The attack is going to be on Disneyland. My sister thinks Moore is going to use a drone. We’ve got to evacuate the park now.”

“We’ll get the word out immediately,” Greer said. “Where are you? Our agents lost you when you got off the freeway.”

“I’m with my sister, near Silver Lake Boulevard. I’ll bring her to headquarters so she can be debriefed.”

I had no idea how the FBI planned to deal with the attack until Lindsay and I got to the FBI building. We were immediately ushered into an upper story office, where Greer and his team were gathered. There was a large TV monitor set up at one end of the room, showing real time events in and around Disneyland. I then realized Joe Dawson was also in the room.

“Nice to see you,” I said, taking a seat next to him with Lindsay, while Bernie settled at my feet.

My sister looked at him. “I th...I thought you were...dead.”

“Those reports were greatly exaggerated,” Joe said. He looked at Greer. “What’s the latest?”

“The park is being evacuated as we speak, but it’s a slow process. Word’s already leaked out to the media and all the networks are covering what’s happening. There’s some panic going on. We’ve set up a no fly zone within a five-mile radius of the park. The military has been alerted. They’re scrambling F-16’s as we speak.”

We watched as images of the theme park appeared on the large monitor. While some of the park’s patrons were moving in an orderly manner, there was a large group of people running toward the exit. I had the impression that total panic was about to take over as word about the terrorist attack began to spread.

One of Greer’s assistants came rushing into the room, giving us an update on what was happening. “We’ve got reports of a drone closing quickly on the target location. It’s less than two miles out.”

“Can the military intercept?” Greer asked.

“We’re not sure. It’s going to be close.”

A minute later, the cameras broadcasting the images panned up and we saw there were jets in the air near the park on course to try and intercept the drone. The F-16’s moved in as Greer’s assistant listened to reports on an earpiece and gave us another update. “The drone is less than a mile out now, closing fast. The military is locking on the target.”

“How many people are still in the park?” Greer asked.

“Thousands. We’re looking at mass casualties if...” He paused, getting another update on his earpiece. “The target has been engaged.”

There was a streak of light on the monitor as the F-16’s fired on the drone. Seconds later there was a large explosion, scattering debris from the sky.

“The target is down,” the assistant announced, as cheers rose up from the other agents. “It’s been destroyed.”

“Thank God,” I said, releasing a pent-up breath. It appeared the drone had exploded over a parking area. If there were any casualties, they would likely be minimal.

“We did it,” I said, turning to Lindsay. “We stopped the attack.”

Lindsay looked exhausted, like she might collapse at any moment. She then said, “I think we can find him.”

“Who? Are you talking about Jenson Moore?”

She nodded. “This might help.” She removed a phone from her pocket as Joe and John Greer came over to us. “It belongs to a man who was with Mr. Moore.”

“We reviewed the call history and have been able to triangulate where they originated,” an FBI agent said, coming back into the room a few minutes later.

Lindsay had provided the technical expert with the phone she’d secretly taken from one of Jenson Moore’s associates a couple hours before she’d been dropped off in Hollywood.

The agent continued. “The calls came from a single family residence in the Hollywood Hills, on Mulholland Drive.”

“Let’s move quickly on this,” Greer said a couple minutes later, after mapping the area. “I want the entire taskforce staged at the overlook near the house. Time is of the essence.”

In 1924 William Mulholland, a Water Bureau Chief and engineer, envisioned a scenic highway that would run from the mountains to the beach. That winding road started near the freeway in Hollywood and ran west, where portions of the highway remained unpaved, ultimately ending at the ocean.

A small park off the highway, called The Groves, was carved into the hillside overlooking Hollywood, where we all met. I’d questioned my sister about the residence where she’d been held captive, before leaving her at the FBI headquarters. While she’d never been allowed outside the small home and had no idea it was located in the hills above Hollywood, Lindsay was able to give me a good overview of the floorplan and who had occupied the dwelling.

“The residence is about a mile down the hill,” Greer said to the agents gathered in the parking lot. “We’ve done some surveillance, and there are a couple of cars parked in the driveway, so we think it’s still occupied.” He looked at me. “Anything you want to add?”

I stood next to Joe Dawson with Bernie as I addressed the gathering. “My sister told me it’s a three bedroom, two bath, single story home. The living area and kitchen are to the left as you enter; the bedrooms, on the opposite wing. There were four subjects, not including Moore, who she saw coming and going. There are weapons that fit the description of automatics, as well as handguns, throughout the residence, so we need to be prepared to meet resistance.”

Ten minutes later, Bernie and I made our way down the highway in Joe’s car, following the other FBI agents. We stopped on the shoulder of the highway, about forty yards from the house, and waited for the initial entry teams to make the assault. When we heard automatic weapons fire, I secured Bernie in the car, since he wasn’t authorized to work with the FBI, and then moved down the driveway to the residence with Joe.

“Let’s check the back,” Joe said, motioning to a side gate.

The gate led us to the back of the residence, where a deck overlooked the city. The moment we moved onto the deck, a man I recognized as Jenson Moore came stumbling out of the residence. He turned, seeing us, and levelled his M-16 in our direction.

There was a sudden explosion of gunfire from the agents inside the residence, blasting through a window before either Joe or I could get off a shot. Jenson Moore’s body jumped as dozens of bullets ripped into him, cutting him down before he could get off a shot.

Joe and I went over to him. I bent down and checked for a pulse, finding none. The terrorist, one of the leaders of the Swarm, who had killed hundreds of people, was dead.

We got the all clear signal a few minutes later and went inside the residence. We found four men in a back room, huddled beneath an overturned desk, where they’d attempted to hold off the assault. I cursed the fact that no one had survived, knowing they would have been our best chance to get more details about Moore and the Swarm.

Joe and I were headed down the hallway toward the living room when John Greer called us over to a table adjacent to the kitchen. We saw there was a map spread out in front of him.

“They’ve got a dozen cities marked as targets,” Greer said, pointing to the map of the United States. “I think we’ve just won a battle in a much bigger war.”