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When Mary Elena’s feet touched the floor, Yuki put her arms around her and walked her to the counsel table. Behind them, the judge used his gavel with meaning.
CHAPTER 68
THE EMPTY OFFICE on the thirteenth floor of the FBI’s San Francisco branch had been a spare, unadorned space with two metal desks facing each other, a narrow credenza, and a large picture window with a view of the traffic on Mission Street.
Since taking over the office, Joe and Bao had spread out to the four corners. The heavy-duty computers with fifty-inch screens covered the desks, a borrowed table, and most of the credenza. Since they had returned from the blue house on Turquoise Way, the sun had risen over the city skyline.
Joe got up, adjusted the shades.
“Coffee, Bao?”
“Thanks, no. I’m still working on the last one.”
Her phone tootled and she picked up, said, “Hey, Sweetie.”
Joe left the room to give Bao privacy, and as he headed toward the vending machine alcove, he thought about how rare it was to fit this well with a new partner.
He and Bao had maximized every minute, going from ahospital meeting to a shoot-out, a gas stove fire, a cop down, a dead perp, and four arrests. But while that was all good, they were no closer to putting St. Vartan’s back in business than they had been at minute one.
And they were still on it. They’d scrolled through uncountable gigabytes of files as time ambled by. They’d found nothing in all those hours about ransomware, hospitals being held hostage, or Apocalypto. Patients at St. Vartan’s were still in danger. The agreed upon forty-eight-hour window was closing despite a well-meaning tip that hadn’t paid off.
Joe got coffee from the vending machine along with a bag of M&M’s. When he returned to the office, Steinmetz was sitting on a few spare inches of the credenza.
He said, “Fine job you two did yesterday. How about a briefing?”
Joe said, “As it happens, I’m writing up a summary right now. Do you want details or just the bottom line?”
“Cut to the chase. If I need more, I’ll ask.”
“Okay, then. Starting after our phone call with you from the scene,” Joe said, “one of the five squatters took shots at us, hit Officer Devon Brown from Glen Park Station …”
“He’s the one in Emergency?”
Joe nodded and said, “It was a through-and-through, inner left thigh. Worse than it sounds. The slug hit a juncture of arteries called the femoral triangle. We tied off the wound at the scene and still Brown nearly bled out. As of now, he’s out of surgery, but he’s still in critical.”
“It’s not on you,” Steinmetz said.
Joe nodded, but he thought it was. He said, “The shooter is at the morgue.”
“He’s the one went over the drop-off? Has the body been ID’d?”
“Keith Ballantine, twenty-eight. Technically unemployed. Glen Park Station contacted his parents. Bao, you’re up.”
Bao swiveled her chair so she was facing Steinmetz.
“These are the six computers that were in the house, and they each have enormous storage capacity. I’ve strip-searched four of them so far. There is nothing in them referencing Apocalypto or ransomware, nothing about hospitals at all.”
“So, what did you find?”
Bao said, “Well. The young entrepreneurs in the house were in the drug manufacturing and distribution game. All of their business records were on their computers.”
“Drugs?” Steinmetz asked. “You’re sure?”
Bao said, “I have another two computers to go through, Craig. But we found pill presses and the chemicals needed to fabricate the pills and package them in the house. A vast mailing list of bulk buyers and repeat customers. They take orders over the web, ship the product out through any courier service. Incoming funds are auto-deposited in one of six banks. Glen Park has processed the four still standing. No sheets, no outstanding warrants. They’re geeks, sir, now with serious goddamn drug and money laundering charges.”
Joe looked at his phone, which had pinged with an incoming text.
He said, “Sorry to interrupt, Bao. Chief. Message from CS Inc. They’ve tracked an incoming signal from Eastern Europe that is seeking a target in San Francisco.”