Deep Sleep (Devin Gray #1)(32)

“Are you going in?” said Berg.

“I don’t know,” whispered Devin.

The effort that had gone into this project was mind-boggling. The very least he could do was give this a chance. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to enter the room.

“Do you mind if I take a look?”

Devin shook his head and made space for him to squeeze by. Berg walked the length of the conspiracy wall, pausing a few times to stare at the displayed information. When he’d reached the end, he turned and crossed the room, taking in the wall of binders.

“What are we looking at?” asked Devin.

“On the surface, it appears that your mother uncovered an extensive network of Russian sleeper agents,” said Berg. “Far more extensive than anything we’ve ever suspected—assuming this isn’t some kind of elaborate delusion sprinkled with magical conspiracy theory dust. It’s going to take some time to sort this out and draw our own conclusions.”

“Where do we even start?” asked Devin. “How do we begin to make sense of this?”

Berg walked over to the desk and examined a yellow legal pad that sat next to a closed laptop. Tight handwriting covered the top sheet.

“True to form, your mother left instructions,” said Berg, tapping the notepad.

She’d apparently thought of everything, which meant she clearly had understood that she might not come back from whatever she had set out to accomplish by kidnapping Donald Wilson. In other words, Helen Gray had convinced herself that what she had discovered was worth dying for. He stepped inside the room—well aware that the wall could swallow him just the same.





CHAPTER 14


Harvey Rudd moved the curtain a few inches away from the wall and studied Gray’s apartment through a night vision scope. Darkness. Same as the past several hours—confirmed by a continuous recording made by the tripod-mounted camera in the bedroom. He checked his watch: 3:34 a.m. It was pretty obvious that he wasn’t coming back tonight. Either the discovery of the trackers had spooked him enough to keep him away for a little while or he’d met with someone, after tossing the trackers, who convinced him to go dark. Neither scenario boded well for the Rudds’ retirement plans.

The next step was to contact CONTROL and let them know that Devin Gray had significantly deviated from the pattern. He’d already made them aware of the tracking device incident, which they’d thankfully dismissed as expected. An encouraging sign that Rudd and the team had been right about CONTROL having low expectations about the surveillance effort. It was time to take the gloves off.

His phone rang, its screen softly illuminating the darkened room, his face, and the ridiculously thin curtain next to him. If Gray was watching from somewhere, it would have drawn his attention. Maybe he really was getting too old for this shit. Turning off your phone or at least flipping it facedown at night on a stakeout was basic procedure. He swiped the phone off the coffee table in front of him and answered the call.

“Yes, my love?”

“Anything?” asked Jolene.

“No. I was about to send an update up the chain,” said Rudd.

“Maybe give it a few more hours?” she said. “Even if he’s up to no good, which is pretty much guaranteed, there’s a good chance he’ll show up in the morning to grab some personal items. We’ve seen that before.”

“That’s why I want to update CONTROL,” said Rudd. “If he very unwisely shows up tomorrow, which is unlikely given the circumstances, it could very well be the last time anyone sees him. CONTROL might want us to pop him if we get the chance, and I don’t feel like jumping through hoops at the last second. I’d like the green light now, if that’s where this is headed. We can get set up and do it right in the parking lot—or inside his apartment.”

“Don’t tease me,” she said. “I can picture it now.”

“Well. Like I said, he’d be crazy to show up, unless he just got spooked and decided to stay away for a night or two. We don’t have anyone watching his father’s place, or his work. He could be crashed out in his office or on a couch in Falls Church.”

“I doubt he’s anywhere obvious,” said Jolene.

“I agree. It’s wishful thinking,” said Rudd, taking another peek at Gray’s dark apartment. “I’m going to put together a message. See what they say.”

“All right. Let me know their response. I won’t be able to sleep until I know,” she said. “I hate loose ends.”

“Hopefully CONTROL will let us tie this one up,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He ended the call and took his laptop to the dining room table, away from the sliding glass door and its virtually transparent curtain. After negotiating the security protocols to access the dark web website designed exclusively for communicating with CONTROL, he typed CHATBOX followed by his username in the single text field on the home page. His cell phone buzzed a moment later, a text appearing with a twenty-digit alphanumeric code, which he typed in the now-empty text field. A rudimentary chat box opened, and he typed a quick update.

Despite his eagerness to speed up what he thought to be the inevitable with Devin Gray, he never made any assumptions or recommendations when communicating directly with CONTROL. He reported the facts and answered with facts. The group running the show on the other end of this gave the orders based on Rudd’s reporting and information available from dozens of other sources that he’d likely never be made aware of.