Access Denied, page 22
part #3 of Turing Hopper Series
Sit tight. Yeah, that was what they should do right now. And exactly what Tim dreaded. He wanted to be doing something. Not wanted, needed. The chase after Kyle Evans had distracted him for a while—the chatter, the bursts of adrenaline. But if he had to sit still and wait, he'd start seeing mental images from last night again.
"Isn't there something we can do?" he asked aloud.
"Good question," Turing said. "We've found him. Now what are we going to do about it?"
I think we're making progress- Tim has
confirmed that there's no way out by car except past the spot where they've set up what they're calling their base camp. Which is three miles from the house. The hideout, as they've begun calling it.
Sam called back, and I patched her into the ongoing conference call with the others.
"Okay, I'm heading for my car," Sam said. "But I'm in Silver Spring right now, at a cousin's house, and you're pretty far out there. I expect it'll take me an hour or so to get there."
"That's fine," I said. "My idea is that we wait until dark to approach the house anyway. That will give us time to scout the area. And if, as we suspect, Evans is planning to break into the house, we don't want to barge in too soon, in case he triggers an alarm."
"Yeah, we don't want to be arrested along with him if that happens, " Claudia said.
"And also time for the equipment to get here." I added.
"Equipment?" Maude repeated. "Vve got a whole trunk full of stuff already. We all do. What do we need that we haven't already got?"
"This is some specialized stuff for me," I said. "I want to go along."
"Just how are you going to do that?" Sam said.
"We're not talking about the robot again," Maude said. "We're still cleaning up from that adventure."
"Robot?" Sam repeated.
"No, but I want to see and hear as much as possible," I said. "We can fit up a laptop, and you can bring it along. We install a wireless modem, some microphones and speakers, and a couple of small digital video cameras — "
"Bad idea," Maude said. "If we want to get this kid talking to us, we need to look as nonthreatening as possible. Can you imagine how it's going to look if we waltz in there holding a laptop bristling with cameras and microphones? Hello Mr. Evans, we're here to help you, just ignore all the electronic surveillance gear — we're not actually webcasting everything you say and do to the cops or anything sneaky like that."
"You think he'll react that badly?" I asked.
"I'm not even sure we should use the miniature radios," Maude said. "What if he searches us?"
"But if you don't have the miniature radios, I won't know what's going on."
"If he clams up, none of us will," Maude said.
"I agree," Sam said. "No electronic gear until we get his permission. In fact, I don't even think I should go in right away —/ should wait until you've convinced him to at least consider retaining me."
"Then I'll wait in the car with you," I said.
"In the car with me?"
"You can take the laptop in your car, and I'll log in there," I said. "I've had Casey working on an improved microphone array.
Yll call him and see if he can install it and a few cameras on a spare laptop and bring it all down."
"You just happened to have Casey working on microphones?" Maude asked. "Or were you already planning to take another outing sometime soon?"
"I wasn't exactly planning," I said. "But I figured just in case the need arose, it would be a lot better to have something already designed and tested. Instead of throwing something together in a hurry."
"Hmmm," Maude said.
She sounded suspicious. Luckily I hadn't yet sent my e-mail to Casey. I revised it slightly, adding a stern warning not to mention that we were originally intending the microphones for Maude's garden. Or to say anything about the floodlights and sirens. I could tell Maude still had mixed feelings about what we'd already done to her yard.
"We're in luck," I said, a few minutes later. "Casey was working on some of the equipment at home, while watching the surveillance cameras, so he doesn't have to go in to the office. He thinks he can be here in an hour."
"Great," Claudia said. "Let's get started scouting. "
"Not that I really expect anyone to listen, but have we considered calling the cops?" Maude said.
There was a pause.
"I've considered it," I said. "And yes, I think we should call them. As soon as we've talked to Evans. Or as soon as we're sure he's not going to talk to us. And if anything goes wrong. I have a variety of canned messages ready to send. n
I heard Maude let out her breath. I wish I'd had my cameras. I couldn't tell how she was reacting.
"Okay," she said, finally. "I'll watch the exit while you two scout the area."
Tim and Claudia set off in one of the cars. They planned to park closer to the house and scout the neighborhood on foot, with
binoculars and cameras hanging from their necks to make them look like harmless birders.
"I must say, Vm starting to see bird watching in a whole new light," Maude remarked. "Vm beginning to wonder if perhaps the Audubon society is a CIA front organization."
Tim and Claudia reported seeing Evans's pickup in the driveway when they first passed the house, and then later reported that it wasn't there any longer. Since Maude didn't see it leave, odds were Kyle had taken it into the garage.
Although I've been poring over every map of the area I can find, to make sure there aren't any escape routes Tim didn't see. I can't find any. That doesn't mean they don't exist, though.
So as far as we know, Kyle's in the house. No police or private security guards have arrived to check things out, so presumably the owners don't have a security system.
Casey showed up at six with the laptop he'd fitted out, and stayed long enough for us to run extensive diagnostics tests. He wanted to stay around even longer and help, but I convinced him that we needed him back at his computer, monitoring the cameras.
"Something could still happen there," I said. "For example, if the police show up at Evans's house, they might find something that would lead them here — we need someone to give us a warning if that happens."
He reluctantly departed. I watched until I was sure he had logged back in again, forty-five minutes later.
Sam arrived, and when it was dark, they all moved to a new location, the driveway of another nearby vacant house, and prepared to approach Evans's hideout.
I felt nervous, and I didn't even have any of the adrenaline or other biological systems humans have, the ones that go into high gear when they're facing danger. I couldn't imagine how the others were feeling.
"Ready?" Claudia said.
"Do we have a plan?" Maude asked. "What if he's not alone, for example?"
"What ifhes armed?" Tim asked
"Maybe only one of us should approach first." Maude said.
"Let's circle around and go in from the garage side," Claudia said. "There's only one bathroom window facing that way, and it's curtained for privacy. From that side, we can probably get to the front door without being spotted."
"Makes sense to me," Maude said. "You lead the way till we get to the front door, and then I'll take over."
"Right," Claudia said. She slipped into the woods.
"Sam, you've got the two-way radio, right?"
Sam held it up.
"Mine's in my pocket. If you spot any danger, just hit the call button and I'll get the tone."
"Like this?" Sam said. Maude's pocket beeped slightly.
"Roger. Here we go."
Maude set off after Claudia. Tim brought up the rear.
"Be careful," I said, as they left the car behind.
Waiting in the car with Sam was better than nothing.
Not a whole lot better.
Technically I wasn't in the car, of course — only logged in though a wireless modem to the specially equipped laptop, which sat on the passenger seat beside Sam. I'd had Casey attach two high-pawered directional microphones and two tiny, digital video cameras, to make me feel less like a fifth wheel as I waited.
I still felt left out.
And highly vulnerable. I don't know why. Perhaps it was being outdoors. Actually in the convertible with the top down, but it certainly felt like the outdoors to me. The outdoors still made me nervous. I suddenly realized that perhaps that was one reason for my recent obsession with gardening. It could let me get to know the outdoors under controlled circumstances. Demystify it. Tame it. But maybe it u asn 't working, because out here in this wooded neighborhood, my anxiety about the outdoors didn't lessen.
Sam didn't seem bothered. She was slouched down in the driver's seat, watching through Tim's night-vision binoculars.
"I can see them," she said, when Maude, Tim, and Claudia had been gone nine minutes. "They're crossing the driveway."
I spotted them, and we sat in silence, her binoculars and my camera lenses glued to the three dark figures as they slid along the side of the house.
It seemed rather anticlimactic when they finally reached the front porch and rang the doorbell. Anticlimactic and more than a little dangerous. Maybe their theory was that people with sufficient manners to ring doorbells didn't look dangerous enough to shoot.
I hoped they were right.
Tim breathed a sigh of relief when they safely reached the front porch of the house. Irrational relief, maybe. They had no guarantee that Evans wouldn't shoot through the front door. But there was something dis-armingly normal about standing on the porch.
"Now remember," Maude said. "When we get in, Tim, you go to my left if possible while Claudia goes to my right. Flank me."
Tim nodded.
"And try not to look menacing," Maude added, raising her hand to the doorbell.
Menacing? Tim blinked in surprise. He wasn't sure he could look menacing if he tried.
Maybe that part was aimed at Claudia.
Maude rang the doorbell. No answer. She knocked on the door.
"We know you're in there, Kyle," she called.
"Who's there?" came a muffled voice.
"Friends. I know you got our e-mail. We can help you."
"Go away."
"We're not going away," Maude said. "You can talk to us,
or we can call the police and you can talk to them." ..: I ualk to you!"
"Because maybe we can help you."
A long pausr Maude was opening het mouth to speak again when they heard the rattle of a chain being unhooked. The click of a deadbolt lock. The door opened slightly.
"That's him-," Sam said-
"Kyle Evans? Are you sw
"Yeah, doesn't it look like h: >:se pictu*
"I :hink so. but I'm still analyzing." I said. "I admit. I'm not as good as a human at identifying individual people. "
"What, do we humans all look alike to m said, u
laugh that sounded more cynical than amused.
"No, the problem is you don't look enough like yourselves sometimes. *' / said. "I have to start with a static picture taken eighteen months ago under one set of lighting conditions, and compare it with a moving image seen under very different lighting conditions, and then make allowances for a wide range of possible alterations in shape. color, hair configuration, and. since we're talking about a man. : ence or absence of facial hair — all the changes that could hate occurred in the intervening period. It's difficult. And yet you humans do it quite effectively, using only a fraction of the processing pou trli
"Nice to knou • u e still do a feu » things bt I said. "Oka).
the,
The door closed behind them. I scanned the house's u indows. but all were blocked by blinds or curtains. I boosted the volume or:
phones as far as possible, but all I could he« i insect and frog noises and the occasional sound of something mo: in the woods around us — nothing from the b on trying to filter out the nearby sounds.
"I >:jte waii: ; said, after a feu seconds.
"H m long
I heard a small noise, but Sam didn't ansu
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/ was about to turn one of my cameras to look at her when something knocked it askew. I righted it again and spotted Sam's arm lying limp, palm up, on the seat beside my laptop. I swiveled the camera left and saw that Sam's head had dropped down and was tilted to the left. Her eyes were closed. I've seen Tim and Maude look like that when they fall asleep sitting up, but they don't usually sound so awake one minute and doze off the next. Something was wrong.
I could see the two-way radio Sam was supposed to use in case of danger lying on the seat near me. But since I had only a normal laptop, with no peripherals for manipulating the world around me, it might as well have been miles away for all the good it did me.
Then the picture in both my cameras shook and veered — someone was picking up the laptop. I realized a nanosecond in advance that someone had unfastened the battery latch, and then the battery popped out, blanking sight and sound.
I panicked, briefly — irrationally. Even though I wasn't, technically, in the laptop, I was so focused on what was happening there in the woods that suddenly losing all sight and sound there was terrifying.
I was safe. If Garcia or one of his allies hoped to capture me in the laptop, they were doomed to disappointment.
But while I was safe, my friends weren't. I began to worry for real. Something had happened to Sam —/ was right to feel nervous in that open convertible. I hoped she was only unconscious, not badly injured or dead.
And whoever attacked Sam was still free to go after Maude, Tim, and Claudia.
I sent warning messages to all three of their cell phones. Claudia's and Maude's voice mail eventually answered their calls. Tim's borrowed phone simply rang on unanswered.
Tim concentrated on smiling in
friendly fashion as the door swung slowly open. "Kyle Evans?" Maude said.
The young man in the doorway nodded and swallowed nervously. Tim could see that it was the face they knew from the driver's license, although he probably hadn't slept much in the last few days.
"Look, I can explain," he said.
"That's good," Maude said. "Why don't we talk inside?"
Evans backed away as she stepped through the door. Tim and Claudia followed. Evans glanced briefly at them and then focused back on Maude as if she were the most dangerous.
Not a total idiot, then, Tim decided. As planned, he and Claudia took up positions flanking Maude. Unmenacingly. Though seeing Evans's visibly nervous state, he figured just about anyone might look menacing to the poor guy. So he tried to keep his face calm and stuck his hands in his pockets in case they shook.
Evans had backed to the other side of the room and stood in front of an open doorway, as if he felt safer with an escape route at his back. Not much of an escape route, Tim thought. He'd already seen Claudia assess the distance between her and Evans, perform some mental calculation, and sidle a few feet closer.
"We know—well, not everything," Maude said. "But enough to know what a jam you're in."
Kyle didn't react.
Tim was startled to feel his cell phone begin to vibrate. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved that it hadn't made an audible interruption or annoyed at the distraction. Later, he thought, willing the phone to stillness.
"We know about you using the credit card numbers you got from your job," Maude said. "And how you were ordering things with the cards and having them delivered to vacant houses—the house in Leesburg a few weeks ago, other houses before that, and then this week, the house in Oakton.
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The one where your friend Tayloe was murdered."
Evans flinched at that. No, Tim thought, he's not the killer. Not that they had any proof, but seeing Evans's face, he was convinced.
"I didn't kill him," Evans said in a flat voice. As if it were a reflex. As if he didn't expect them to believe it? No, more as if he wasn't really sure he had to deny it. Good heavens, Tim thought, seeing Evans's expression. He's wondering if one of us did it.
"We didn't think you had," Maude said. "And if you didn't, we think we know who did. And if we're right, you're in danger."
"I'm trying to leave town," Evans said.
"Leaving town may not be enough," Maude said. "If the man who had Tayloe killed is who we think he is, you can't possibly run far enough. Turn yourself in to the police. Tell them what you know. They can arrange protection."
"Oh, yeah, like jail time," Evans said, flatly.
"Better than a cemetery," Maude said.
Evans swallowed hard.
"The man who's after you is no lightweight," Maude said. "The FBI is looking for him, too. Look, we've got our lawyer outside. She can help you turn yourself safely in to the police. Convince them that you need protection from Tayloe's killer."
Evans was shaking his head. From the corner of his eye, Tim could see that Claudia was shaking hers, too. As if to say "I told you he wouldn't go for it."
"Just answer a few questions, and then we'll leave you alone," Maude said. "Or maybe even help you, if you help us."
Evans shrugged. Maude evidently decided to assume the lack of protest implied agreement.
"Was the scheme your idea or Blake's?" Maude asked.
"Blake?" Evans said, with a snort. "Give me a break—the
guy can barely read. I came up with the idea. Happened to me, actually—someone charged twenty-four hundred dollars on my credit card, back when I was out of work and trying to ignore the bills, so I didn't even notice until six months later."
"Didn't you report it?" Maude asked.
"Yeah, but by that time it was too late to do anything," Evans said. "Or maybe they just told me that because they didn't believe me. Twenty-four hundred dollars wasn't even that much compared to everything I owed, but it burned me, you know? That they were charging me all those fees and interest and stuff, and they wouldn't even listen to me when I was telling the truth about being ripped off. So when I got into skip tracing and found I could get everything on a person—social security, credit card numbers, the works—I decided to rip the banks off."
