Fragmented (26 page)

47

Thursday –
3:30 p.m.

The room
at the FBI field office was filling fast with brass from every nearby agency. Harrington unfolded a large map on the conference room table and ran his hand across the heavy paper, smoothing out the folds as people crowded around, jockeying for space to get a good view. Jack stood to Harrington’s right, tossing his notebook on top of the map. Against the back wall, a satellite view showcased where Cooper accessed the Internet on a wall-size, pull-down screen. Rumbling in the room grew to a moderate roar
.

Jack looked around, trying to get a head count on how many people were present. “Let’s get started,” he said, and the room instantly grew quiet.

“For those who have not been updated,” Jack continued, “we have several initiatives in the works to help locate and rescue sixteen-year-old Jessica Baker and apprehend our subject, Alvin Franklin Cooper.”

The screen changed to display two photos, side-by-side, one of Baker and the other of Cooper.

“The first is a trap and trace and pen register on what we know to be Cooper’s telephone.” Jack gestured for Harrington’s input
.

“Although we’re confident that the cell number belongs to Cooper,” Harrington said, “the phone has been off since we went up. At this moment, we don’t have a bead on him.”

“We do have the server of his e-mail account monitored,” Jack continued. “Not more than two hours ago, Cooper launched his e-mail on a Wi-Fi network at a Starbuck’s in downtown
Sacramento
. Three patrol units and an FBI surveillance team were dispatched to the area. They’re searching every building, park, and alleyway for Cooper. We’re also looking for the last vehicle he was known to be driving.” Jack held up a photo of a white Chevy pickup with a camper shell. Notepads flipped open as the attendees started hastily scrawling.

Someone in the audience raised a hand. “Has there been a demand for money?

“No demand.”

A low grumble confirmed what everyone in the room knew: no ransom meant no bargaining. Which left only two possible outcomes. Either he was going to keep her. Or he was going to kill her.

“We were able to get an associate of Cooper to post a message via e-mail with the intent of drawing him out into the open. It didn’t take long for Cooper to take the bait and ask for a meeting.”

The screen changed, projecting an overview of
Sacramento
’s midtown section. Rows of tightly fitted Victorians with tall evergreen and oak trees lined shaded streets just east of the town’s center, gentrification making its mark with many houses expensively refurbished or converted into law offices.

“Cooper has instructed his friend to meet him tonight at
Harlow
’s, a nightclub near 27
^th
and
J Street
.” Jack used a laser pointer to shine a bright red dot on the south side of J, just before the Capitol Freeway. “As most of you know, that’s a busy commercial area, lined with businesses, bars, and restaurants. It’s going to be busy tonight and I think that’s why Cooper chose this place at this time.
”

Jack ran the red laser in a broad circle around the area. “We got S.O.G. staking out the outer perimeter with SWAT on stand-by just down the street in case we get him contained in a stand-off location.”

A lieutenant with Sacramento PD raised a hand. “I got every detective waiting to be deployed into the area as soon as you’re ready.
”

Jack gestured at Hoskin, who stood deep in the crowd. “Chris will meet with your team and get them updated with our best photo of Cooper and the associate he’s supposed to meet.”

Hoskin wedged through the crowd over to the lieutenant, where they conveyed plans before exiting the conference room together.

Jack scanned the crowd. All eyes fixed forward, waiting for direction. He leaned with both hands square on the table and checked his watch.
Four p.m.
Two days and approximately eight hours had passed since Jessica’s abduction. With Cooper’s awareness that law enforcement was in pursuit, a haunting portrait of Jessica Baker’s future emerged. He thought about her condition, about the possibility of a diabetic coma. When would Cooper decide it wasn’t worth keeping her alive any longer?

Between Jack and Colfax, the audience was briefed and assignments handed out. A perimeter was secured around
Harlow
’s with a covert surveillance team. Tech agents with the cellphone tracking equipment were also deployed, circling the area in case Cooper’s phone came to life. Youngblood was provided a car, a red Chevrolet Malibu. The vehicle, part of the Sacramento FBI’s covert fleet, was wired for sight, sound, and GPS tracking. Youngblood himself was wired as well. If Youngblood had to pick up Cooper, Jack and the security team would be able to monitor the conversation and follow at a safe distance without getting burned during the surveillance. Hopefully, Youngblood would be able to convince Cooper to take him to where Jessica Baker was being held. At that point, Youngblood was instructed to step into view of the surveillance team, place both hands on top of his head and say, “It’s a green light.” Between the microphones, video feed, and surveillance, someone was going to get the cue.

The crowd started to thin as the team leaders began talking on their cell phones, informing their respective teams of their assignments. Several of the commanders stopped in front of the map, running their fingers along the street lines surrounding the meet location. The roar of the crowd returned and Jack knew this meant game on.

Colfax rapped a fist on the map. “This isn’t going to be easy. Cooper’s not stupid and he’s certainly not going to make the same mistakes he’s made in the past. His head’s going to be on a swivel, and if he spots surveillance, that girl’s history.”

Jack nodded in agreement.

“If he meets Youngblood on foot,” Colfax said, “he could take him down those alleyways to clear himself of any tail. The body transmitter is only good for a short range. He gets any distance on us, and Youngblood’s on his own.”

“We’ll have a bird up.”

Colfax shook his head. “A plane’s a great asset, but it’ll be night in a few hours. There’s no guarantee they’ll be able to keep an eye on two small figures darting in and out of the dark.”

Jack knew there weren’t answers to every contingency. All he could do was lay the foundation of a rescue like he had done in the past: perimeter surveillance, outer mobile surveillance, tracking system, air coverage. Tactical, negotiation and rescue teams trailing the pack. A command center was set up at the Sacramento County Sheriff’s Office because it was closest to the meet location. There wasn’t much else Jack could do but wait.

Jack nervously scratched the two-day-old stubble on his chin. “Where’s Youngblood?”

“Harrington’s got him,” Colfax replied. “He’s being fitted for his transmitter.”

48

Thursday –
4:16 p.m.

Youngblood tightened
the leather belt around his waist, adjusting the buckle to face perfectly straight
.

“How’s that?” Youngblood pulled his hands away from his body, palms up, and aimed the shiny belt buckle directly in Harrington’s line of sight.

Harrington studied Youngblood’s waist. “That’ll do. Just remember the mic is in the buckle. Don’t cover it up or everything’ll be muffled.
”

Youngblood’s head canted down, eyes fixated on the buckle.

“Act natural. You concentrate on that transmitter too much and Cooper’s going to know something’s up.”

Youngblood blew out a nervous breath. “Just knowing there’s a microphone down there makes me feel like I have a brick stuck to my belly.”

“Everyone feels that way, believe me. Just forget it’s there and he’s not going to find it.”

Youngblood forced a smile. “He won’t have to. If he suspects anything, he’ll just kill me.”

Harrington patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Everything okay?” Jack asked as he walked into Harrington’s office with a black duffle bag slung over his left shoulder, Colfax right behind him. Jack placed the bag on the workbench, pulled open the zipper and removed a cell phone, placing it in Youngblood’s hand.

“Keep this on your hip.”

Youngblood studied the phone, turning it over. “I got one already.”

“This one’s better.”

Harrington took the phone from Youngblood, checked the battery.

“This one has a longer battery life and allows for autodial in case you’re in trouble.” Harrington clipped it on Youngblood’s side and gave it a pat. “Just hit any key and it will call us direct. No need to dial. We’ll come get you.”

Jack pulled out another phone exactly like the one he gave Youngblood. “I’ll be able to listen in with this one.”

“I’m all choked up that you care so much for my safety,” Youngblood said looking at Colfax.

“Just get him to tell you where Jessica Baker is,” Colfax said. “We’ll do the rest.”

Jack pulled up a work stool and sat next to Youngblood.

“Eric, tonight is critical to the rescue of our victim.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“You’re going to drive one of our undercover vehicles over to
Harlow
’s and park around the back, just like you told Cooper. We’ll have surveillance already set up to keep an eye on you.”

Youngblood nodded that he understood.

“When Cooper arrives, see if you can get him inside your car to talk. It will give you both privacy, and we will be able to monitor the conversation better without the outside noises interfering.
”

“What if he comes in a car and asks me to get in?”

This was always a tough call. When Jack worked undercover, the rule was never to get into a target’s car. It didn’t allow for the security team to provide cover if the suspect decided to take a drive. And that could get an undercover killed.

“Tell him your car is safer, that you just bought the car in a false name, paid cash so the police wouldn’t be able to find you.”

“And if he says no?”

“Look, Eric, I can’t tell you to go with him because it’s too dangerous.” Jack paused. “But you know him better than any of us. If you feel you can get him to take you to Jessica Backer, I’ll let you make the decision.”

Youngblood nodded glumly.

“I know it can be a tough but only you can make that call. You just need to convey your intent over the wire so we can respond. If you don’t go, I’ll still have the ability to follow him. Hopefully he’ll lead us to Jessica Baker, but I can’t let him get away.”

49

Thursday –
4:59 p.m.

The radio
chatter was constant but controlled. The mobile surveillance units pointed out vehicles and suspicious individuals around Harlow’s, running license plates to see if any of the cars were recently sold or reported stolen. Low light, closed-circuit cameras hidden on rooftops and inside stationary box vans observed pedestrians, people roaming the streets, hopping bar to bar.

The sun would be setting shortly but the heat was still going strong. Surveillance agents complained about the temperature inside their vans. They couldn’t run the air conditioner without drawing suspicion, forced to swelter inside a metal box. Stripped down to shorts and T-shirts, they wrapped bags of ice around their necks to keep from passing out.

Jack was driving around the area in a Toyota Camry trying to stay clear of the surveillance team. Marquez kept watch out the window while nervously finger-tapping the glass. It sounded like falling rain.

“An hour or so and it will be dark,” she said.

“I don’t expect Cooper until it is.” Jack had already instructed Youngblood to park around back of
Harlow
’s in case Cooper showed up early. Cooper hadn’t specified a time. Before the evening crowd arrived, Jack wanted Youngblood to get a good parking space, which would provide the best view for the team. An agent called over the radio that Youngblood was in the lot and out of his car, leaning against the hood having a smoke.

Marquez pushed the seek button on the radio, skipping through anything that sounded like a nuclear explosion or a cat in heat, settling on a saxophone riff, bluesy and soulful. She pitched the volume down to where it hovered just above the background noise. The melody brought a brief moment of calm, and Marquez started humming. Marquez loved music, all kinds, but found jazz most comforting.

Her eyes were closed and her humming sounded soothing but Jack saw tension around her temples and forehead. These past three days had been more than she could deal with. At least, more than music could cure. Her jaw flexed every so often, a clear sign that the stress was getting to her.

Jack’s phone vibrated. He pulled it off his belt and checked the ID. His son, Michael.

“Hey, Mike. What’s up?”

Jack could hear the clatter of pots and pans. “I heard you came by the other night. Why didn’t you say hello?”

Jack felt a twinge of guilt. “You were in the middle of a cooking storm. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Never. Next time, come on in and I’ll fix you something to eat. OK?”

Jack had to smile. In his mind, his son still couldn’t even tie his shoes. Now, it was Michael who was going to take care of his father. “I’d like that, Mike.”

They talked for a moment longer, Jack apologizing for having to cut it short because of work. Jack didn’t go into details. Michael understood. He’d been there before. At the end of their conversation, they promised to talk again soon and Jack told Michael he loved him and to make sure he checked in on his sister and mother. “Always do,” he replied. That was exactly what Jack needed to hear.

The Bureau radio crackled. An agent announced a cross street that he was going to stake out. More radio traffic, a couple of chirps, license plates checked.

“I don’t think the music’s working.” Marquez rocked side-to-side like shaking off a restless night’s sleep. The side of her head sported a bandage that covered the gash she received from her fight with Cooper earlier that morning. The drape of her hair concealed most of the wound, but the surrounding area was starting to darken into a bruise.

“How’s the head?”

“Nothing that a couple of Advil and vodka couldn’t cure.”

She must have been feeling better.

“The Advil I can get. You’re gonna have to wait on the booze until after Cooper’s in custody and our girl is safely in our hands.”

Marquez rolled her eyes.

Jack drove south on 25
^th
Street until coming to a stop at J, then hooked left toward Harlow’s, driving by the front to get a good look at the nightclub, the MoMo Lounge, a cocktail bar above Harlow’s. Nightclub patrons could slip up the side stairs for a little more leisure. A number of
Sacramento
celebrities were known to frequent the MoMo. Not too long ago, an overly aggressive superstar athlete and his entourage decided to tune up a couple of the patrons. A fight turned into a brawl, which turned into gunfire. The MoMo was a concern. Another set of stairs led out the back to the parking lot where Youngblood was waiting. Cooper could easily slide undetected into the lounge and look for surveillance before ducking into any number of the unlit alleyways connected to the lot. Jack ordered additional surveillance south of
Harlow
’s to watch for any movement through the back passages.

Jack cruised slowly past the entryway. The outdoor seating was filled with customers, martini glasses crowding the metal tables. Marquez gave each person an appraising look. The front door pushed open and an African-American male wearing black slacks, a black button down shirt and vest stepped out. A beefy guy—six-two,
two fifty
—with the look of a Whirlpool frost-free side-by side.

“That’s Clayton Browning,” Jack said. “
Sacramento
PD. We put him in there with a couple of detectives in case Cooper tries to make a break for it.”

He swung the Camry right on 28
^th
to check around back where Youngblood stood waiting.

“He looks a little nervous,” Marquez said.

“That’s what happens when you’re asked to wait for a serial killer to pick you up.”

Jack sped on by, drove down to the next block, and turned right onto K Street, where he pulled to the side and parked, several blocks away from Harlow’s, far enough away in case Cooper was cruising the streets but still close enough to move in if they had to. Jack killed the engine and rolled down the windows. The temperature outside the car was even hotter than the air inside but the fresh air felt good.

The sun sat squarely on the horizon directly in front of their view, causing them both to squint. Marquez shaded her eyes with a hand as she dug into her bag for her sunglasses, finding and sliding them on. For Jack, there was a moment of stillness, like that episode of
The Twilight Zone
when the guy found a pocket watch that could stop time. Time had stopped, and in a kidnapping, time will kill. It made Jack irritable, anxious to get this thing moving. To spot Cooper. To rescue Jessica Baker.