Deep Sleep (Devin Gray #1)(77)

A few minutes later, Berg was told the situation was under control and that they could approach. Marnie led them through the trees and bushes to the edge of the grass, then straight across the yard and around the pool. Emily stood at the open patio slider, motioning them inside, where most of the lights had been turned off or dimmed. She shut the slider behind them and pointed toward an open staircase off the kitchen, leading downward.

“Don’t forget your masks and gloves,” she said.

Marnie took a few steps before turning around. “Do you want me to keep an eye on things up here?”

She felt as though maybe she was responsible for Emily being assigned what amounted to glorified sentry duty.

Emily shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but our jobs have been assigned for this one. Maybe next time.”

“Sorry for throwing a wrench into the works back at the motel,” said Marnie.

“No wrench at all,” she said.

Marnie nodded and followed Berg toward the staircase, donning her balaclava ski mask and black leather gloves before descending into the basement. The first thing she noticed when she reached the bottom of the stairs was that the Indianapolis sports team–themed finished basement might cover more square footage than her parents’ house. She’d never seen a basement like this before in her life. Full granite-topped kitchen and island with several high-backed stools. Expansive mahogany bar with seating for nearly a dozen, plus two separate pub-style booths. Massive movie screening area with three rows of theater seating. Pool table. A half dozen other doors, probably leading to a few spare bedrooms and bathrooms.

She had no idea what a supervising attorney for a state attorney general’s office earned, but she suspected Stacy Barber’s job at ADT paid for most of this. The second thing she noticed was that the woman duct-taped to the wooden chair next to William Barber was not in fact Mrs. Barber. She looked roughly the same age but was definitely not Stacy. The two had been arranged side by side along the end of the pool table that faced the kitchen.

Berg joined Rich, who stood glaring at them with his arms crossed. Scott and Rico flanked the two closely—not that their captives were going anywhere. Mike and Alex sat at the kitchen island, working on something she couldn’t see. They had a laptop and a small plastic case open. That was all she could tell. She stood next to Devin, who had moved closer to Berg but remained separated from the two who would conduct the interrogation.

“Who wants to go first?” asked Rich.

The woman screamed through the duct tape covering her mouth. Rich nodded at Scott, who tore the piece free. She immediately started pleading for her life, which caught Marnie off guard, almost causing her to gasp. Devin gave her a reassuring look, though he appeared anything but sure about the situation. When the woman had settled down, Rich glanced up at Alex, who held up a driver’s license and motioned for him to come over.

“See what’s going on,” Devin said to Marnie.

She followed Rich to the kitchen island, where they formed a huddle around the two operatives. She glanced over her shoulders to see William Barber and his mistress straining their necks to look at the kitchen. Scott and Rico faced them forward.

“What’s up?” asked Rich.

“Read the name on the ID,” said Alex.

Rich took it, and Marnie examined it over his shoulder. Illinois driver’s license. Karen Jeffries.

“No way,” she muttered.

“Way,” said Alex, switching to a different tab on the laptop screen.

The Google search string read: Wife of Harrison Jeffries, Deputy Chief of Staff to the Attorney General in Illinois.

The top result listed Karen Jeffries. Next was a Wikipedia entry with her name and references to their two children. A LinkedIn profile followed, identifying her as an Illinois state representative. Alex clicked on a Facebook link, which took them to Harrison Jeffries’s Facebook page. No further confirmation required. Karen Jeffries, the out-of-state wife of a suspected Russian sleeper agent, was romantically involved with another suspected Russian sleeper. The coincidence raised alarms.

“Interesting,” said Marnie.

“Damning is more like it,” said Rich. “No reason to tiptoe around these two. They’re as thick as thieves. I strongly suspect something. Can you open their phones?”

Mike removed a small plastic kit from the case and opened it, removing what looked like another phone.

“Give me a minute,” he said.

“What is that?” asked Marnie.

“It’s a scanner with a built-in passcode-analysis application. I just put my device over their screen and hopefully that gives me a high-probability passcode. If not, I’ll have to do this old school and dust the screens. The differences can be really subtle, but I should be able to determine the four-or six-digit code based on the amount of oily residue left behind on each number. Might take a few guesses, but it works ninety percent of the time.”

“When you open the phones, I want Gupta to run a location track,” said Rich. “Then have him do a deep dive into Stacy Barber and Karen Jeffries using the sleeper algorithm Graves has been working on.”

“Will do,” said Alex.

“What are you thinking?” asked Marnie, already knowing the answer.

“I’m thinking this sleeper situation is more like a family affair with the Barbers and Jeffrieses,” said Rich. “Including the children.”