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Joe got out of the car and stood against the door looking down the road. A white police van turned onto Turquoise Way and came up the hill. Joe held up his badge and the van braked hard next to him.
The passenger door slid open and a uniform stepped out, introduced himself as Sergeant Brian Whalen and his partner, behind the wheel, as Inspector Ray Lipari. Joe introduced Bao and himself and nodded to the three cops wearing tactical gear seated in the rear of the van.
Whalen said, “Wait a minute. Molinari. You’re not a cop. You’re an independent whatchacallit. Contractor. Boxer’s husband, am I right?”
Whalen had crossed swords with Lindsay in the past. This operation was Joe’s responsibility. He was working from a phoned-in tip, and with manpower he didn’t know. The outcome for St. Vartan’s could be apocalyptic. So, he did what he had to do.
“Whalen, let me be clear. This is an FBI operation. I’m in command. Are you in or out?”
“I was never out. What’s the plan?”
Joe pointed out the blue house a few hundred yards uphill. He told Whalen, “I saw five or six sleeping males in that house,mid-twenties, four used cars out front. We have a short time frame in which to unwind a cyberattack on a hospital. There are industrial-grade computers set up in that house’s main room and I saw a box of .40-caliber ammo on the windowsill.”
“So they’re armed.”
“Very likely. At the moment they’re camping in a property that’s not theirs. We can bring them in on trespassing alone.”
Whalen said, “We have tac gear and search warrants.”
“Good. I’ve roughed out a plan,” said Joe. “It’s basic. Form a perimeter around the house. Your men knock and announce, then enter through the back door. If the subjects don’t drop to the floor, flush them out the front. Director Wong and I will be waiting for them. If they shoot, we shoot. But we prefer live captives who talk.”
Whalen had questions and Joe answered. He described the layout of the house, its location on its lot, and the long drop down a hillside at the rear boundary line.
Joe said, “The van is now our command post. Once the perimeter is in place, Lipari calls you, and you drive up the hill, block off the driveway, trapping their vehicles from leaving the property.”
Whalen said, “I’ve got it, Molinari. Make arrests, transport this gang of whatever to booking, go home.”
Joe said, “Right. I think we can wrap this up in under an hour.”
Whalen was nodding when everything changed.
The lights in the run-down blue house went on.
The occupants were awake.
CHAPTER 63
JOE’S BRAIN WENT into overdrive, assessing the ways things could go terribly wrong. The young men could see the van and grab their guns, resulting in a Wild West–style shoot-out. Or they could leave the house before the perimeter was set, take off through the canyon, and get lost until night. Or it could go the other way. These kids might be a college study group, armed with nothing more than their cheat sheets. People could get hurt right here in the next few minutes.
Five cops, including Whalen, secured their tactical gear and huddled with Joe near the van as he gave them their orders.
On Joe’s go, the team moved out.
It started to rain as Joe and Bao reached the front door of the house. Through a crack in the door, Joe saw that some of the young men were on their feet, pulling on their clothes. Two sat in front of computers. They hadn’t seen the cops. Then a bullhorn sounded, and a voice announced, “This is SFPD. We’re coming in. Toss your guns. Drop to the floor. Hands behind your heads. Do this now and no one gets hurt.”
There was shouting inside the small house. One of the men disappeared from Joe’s view. The others fell to their knees. A tall kid with leadership presence shouted to his guys, “Front door. Front door. Let’s go.”
“Ready, set,” said Joe to Bao.
Joe put his shoulder to the front door, which splintered as it broke open. Four half-dressed young men pushed aside strips of wood and ran through the doorway with drawn guns, muscling past Bao and Joe.
Joe fired three shots into the air and shouted orders to halt.
The four dropped to the walkway. The cops seized their guns, wrenched their arms around their backs, and cuffed them. Joe heard, “You have the right to remain silent …” and watched as the captives were marched to the van.
Bao entered the house with Officer Boyd Jamieson to make sure the house was cleared while allowing her to check out the computers.
Joe felt a rush of satisfaction, a feeling he’d missed since he last worked a case in the field. He holstered his gun and was calling Steinmetz’s office—when a shot sounded from the canyon to his left.