“Got anything?” he said into the microphone mounted inside his ballistic glass face mask.
“Not yet.” Special Agent Sims Jackson was observing the cabin through a thermal imaging camera. “Nothing but a hot water heater.”
Cody didn’t like that. The truck was there, but the people weren’t? Was there a root cellar of some kind? Could the tango have detected their approach and fled into the woods? It would be tough carrying a five-year-old girl, but Cody had been told the man was big. He could also have killed the little girl and fled alone, but even if she’d been dead a couple of hours, there should still be enough heat in the corpse to register on the thermal imaging device.
“Cody to tracing van,” he said into his mike. The CellStar van was seventy yards back up the logging road. “Has the cell phone moved?”
“Negative. Still in the same position.”
“We’re going in,” Cody said into his mike. “Prepare for explosive entry. Stun grenades through the windows, ram on the front door. It looks thin as paper, but you never know.”
A staccato burst of mike clicks answered him.
“Shoot high,” Cody reminded them, though they knew the drill already. “This kid probably isn’t much over three feet, which is a good break. Okay… deploy.”
What followed was a ballet the team had rehearsed hundreds of times. Men moving forward without sound, carrying weapons they could dismantle and put back together in absolute darkness. In thirty seconds the team had deployed around the cabin, grenades and HKs at the ready.
Agent Cody had a bad feeling about the assault, but he often got those just before contact. He checked to make sure his ram team was in position to hit the door. It was.
“On my five-count,” he said. “Five-four-three-two-GO!” The cabin windows shattered one second before the front door went down. Even in daylight, the blue-white flash of the stun grenades lit up the windows, followed by ear-shattering bangs. Cody saw his men vanish into the cabin. He charged forward and went through the front door five seconds behind them.
The raised cabin floor shuddered under the impact of boots. The interior was filled with smoke, but it cleared quickly through the broken windows. There were no cries of “FEDERAL AGENTS!” because no one could have heard them after the stun grenades.
“Bedroom! No joy!” cried the speaker in Cody’s helmet.
“Kitchen, no joy!”
“Bedroom closet’s empty!”
Cody checked the corners of the front room, in case the girl was lying dead in one of them. He found nothing.
“Cell phone!” someone shouted. “Cell phone in the kitchen!”
“Got another one!” cried someone else. “Landline in the bedroom!”
Landline? Cody had been told there was no landline in the cabin, and he had seen no wires outside. Maybe there was a buried cable running to the building. He went into the kitchen and saw one of his men holding the cell phone. He was about to take it when the phone began to ring. Cody yanked off his helmet, stared at the phone for a few seconds, then took it and hit SEND.
“Yeah?” he said, hoping the caller would mistake him for whomever he had tried to call.
“Do you have Prince Albert in the can?” asked a male voice.
Cody stood dumbfounded for a moment. “Who is this?”
He heard wild laughter; then the caller clicked off.
Cody put his helmet back on and keyed his mike. “Tracing van, did you hear that call?”
“Affirmative.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Unknown. We’re checking.”
Cody ripped off his helmet again, pulled a digital cell phone from his pocket, and dialed the private number of SAC Zwick in Jackson.
Will paced back and forth across the banker’s small office. Agent Chalmers sat behind Moore’s desk, speaking quietly to Zwick. Suddenly, Chalmers groaned and covered his eyes with his free hand.
“What happened?” Will asked. “What happened, goddamn it?”
Chalmers looked up, his face pale. “The cabin was empty when SWAT went in. Huey and your daughter weren’t there.”
“What?” Will searched his mind for an explanation. “It must have been the wrong cabin.”
“It wasn’t. They found the cell phone inside. And someone-probably Hickey-actually called them on it while they were there. Made a joke out of it.”
Will shook his head in disbelief.
“They also found a landline in the cabin, which means Hickey could have given Huey new instructions without anyone knowing. The phone company has no record of that line. It’s probably an illegal tap.”
A landline. He should have known Hickey wouldn’t let Huey operate without some sort of backup. “But the truck was still there?”
“The truck was there, but the battery had been removed. It looks like there might have been another vehicle there. They may have gotten away in it.”
“May have? Are you kidding me? They’re gone!”
“Doctor-”
“Give me that goddamn phone!”
Will snatched the phone from Chalmers’s hand and shouted into it: “Are you the guy in charge of this Chinese fire drill?”
“This is Frank Zwick, Doctor. Special Agent-in-Charge. Losing your temper isn’t going to help your little girl.”
“You just tell me, what do you plan to do now?”
“I’m deciding that at this moment. You can help me. Did Cheryl Lynn Tilly mention any possible destination that would require air travel?”
“Costa Rica. She said Hickey has a ranch down there. Or some land, anyway.”
“Costa Rica? You can’t fly direct from Jackson to Costa Rica. And there’s no reservation for a Joe or Joseph Hickey on any flight out of Jackson today. So, he must be flying out under an alias, with a connecting flight to South America.”
“Look, if Hickey called your men at the cabin, he knows you’re involved. You may have just killed my little girl, Zwick.”
“I seriously doubt that, Doctor. Hickey wants two things: his money and his freedom. Killing your daughter won’t help him get either. She’s half his total leverage now.”
“You don’t know what’s going on! It’s not about money. Hickey thinks I killed his mother on the operating table. This is about revenge. He wants to kill Abby. To punish me.”
There was a brief silence. Then Zwick said, “That’s a disturbing new perspective, Doctor.”
“You’re goddamn right it is.”
“Do you know this Hickey? Do you remember him?”
Will heard another phone ringing. It was the cell phone in his pocket. Cheryl’s phone. “Hang on, I think Hickey’s calling me.” He dug the phone out of his pocket and hit SEND. “Hello?”
“What’s up, Doc?”
Will nodded at Chalmers. “I’m in the bank, getting your money.”
“You’re lying. You called the FBI.”
“Joe-”
“Where’s Cheryl?”
“In the parking lot. I brought the phone in with me.”
“Why?”
“So I could tell you what was happening if you called.”
“Well… the plan has changed. Your wife and me are about to take a little airplane ride. And if I see a cop or an FBI agent within a mile of me, I’m going to put one right in her ear. You follow?”
