The Bug Hunter: A Novel Read online

  “Nice to meet you,” Gabriel said. Knox was a strapping man with arms as big as most men’s legs. His handshake was crushing. In the marines you got used to sizing up men in a split second, like the way dogs sniff each other. The longer you were in the military, particularly in combat, the easier it was to tell if the guy was a good dude or a douchebag. Gabriel instantly knew that he liked Chuck Knox.

  “Come on around back,” Knox said, leading them to the back of the van he’d been in. He knocked twice in rapid succession, and the door popped open, releasing a wave of cool air. Inside was a command center that looked like an airline simulator. There was a bank of monitors that surrounded three chairs, each with joysticks in front of them.

  “Cool!” Gabriel said. He loved anything to do with airplanes and had a simulator of his own at home.

  “This controls the four drones we have stored in the other vans,” Knox said. “They’re Fulmar fixed-wing micro-UAVs capable of twelve hours of continuous flight and a ninety-kilometer range. Should be perfect for this operation. And the best thing is that they are pretty quiet.”

  “Do they have cameras?” Jensen asked.

  Knox laughed. “Yes, Lee, they have cameras. HD video and full infrared capabilities, meaning we’ll be able to see heat signatures of people moving at night.”

  “Sweet!” Jensen said. He too was caught up in the gadget euphoria that had overtaken the group.

  Knox turned to Jensen. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Beats me,” Jensen said without a hit of embarrassment. Looking at Gabriel, he asked, “What’s the plan?”

  Gabriel gave Knox a quick overview of who they were looking for and what she was likely to be doing. Gabriel then moved over to one of the monitors, which already had Google satellite maps up. “We have four drones, and I think we should divide them this way. One should be over Redwood Shores,” he said, using his fingers to zoom in. “This area is like a system of inlets with homes all in and around the waterways. It’s a perfect target.”

  Knox got up to take a closer look. “That should be easy enough for us to cover. What else you got?”

  Gabriel moved his fingers south to Bair Island, a marshy area along Bayshore Freeway. “This area is shallow and full of reeds and grasses, a great area for mosquitoes. It also has a marina where she may try and highjack a boat to better get around.” He then moved the map east across the bay to the San Francisco Bay National Wildlife Refuge. “Let’s get both of these covered as well.”

  “What about here?” Knox asked, pointing to an East Bay area north of the wildlife refuge.

  “That’s Eden Landing Eco Reserve. That’s the fourth spot.”

  “OK, that works,” Knox said. “How do you want us to split up to cover these? One team can cover the two areas on the west side of the bay because they’re pretty close together. But on the east side, we’re going to need two separate teams if we’re gonna have a decent response time.”

  “Agree,” Jensen said. “Gabriel and I’ll take the west, and your guys can split up and take the east. OK?”

  Gabriel nodded and Knox said, “Fine by me.” He then looked at his watch. “It’s now 16:55. We’ll plan on having birds in the air by eighteen hundred hours.”

  “Roger that,” Jensen said. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Gabriel said. “The suspect here is a woman who will likely be carrying mosquito eggs wrapped in paper. They are dried eggs that, when submersed in water, will rehydrate and eventually hatch if the conditions are right. If she manages to get the eggs into the water, we are going to have to remove them quickly, or the whole area is going to have to be hit with insecticide.”

  “How fast is ‘quickly’?” Knox asked.

  “Good question. It depends on how fast the paper dissolves. Fifteen to thirty minutes, tops. I’ve got bags and gloves for your guys. Be sure they wear them.”

  “OK. We’ll do our best,” Knox said.

  Jensen nodded and moved to exit the van. “You guys want coffee?”

  Gabriel shook his head no. But Knox said, “Sure. Triple venti vanilla soy no-foam latte.”

  Jensen just shook his head and laughed. “One black coffee coming up,” he said.

  CHAPTER Fifty

  Redwood City, California

  The Docktown Marina had once been an enclave for funky houseboats and hippies, a throwback to a time when the Peninsula wasn’t just for overpaid software engineers and tech executives. That was a decade ago, before Redwood City had decided that it could no longer abide the last vestige of cheap housing and free living in the increasingly tony area. So the houseboats were gone, replaced by the yachts of the rich and a few small sailboats used by a local sailing school.

  Gabriel sat in his truck on a dark frontage road outside the marina, monitoring the radio traffic between Knox and his men. Knox and one other drone operator were set up in their van about a mile from Gabriel. Both of their drones were high above, one directly over the marina and one over Redwood Shores. The other van, with two more operators on board, sat across the bay running the drones above the National Wildlife Refuge and the Eden Landing Ecological Reserve. They also had two other team of agents with them, strategically placed so they could quickly react if the target was spotted.

  After some discussion, Lee Jensen had ended up with another DHS agent to the north of Gabriel in Redwood Shores and was also sitting in a parked car among the waterfront townhouses and homes. Initially, Lee had been reluctant to separate from Gabriel, believing that they should stick together given the uncertainty of who and what they’d encounter. But Gabriel had argued that the distance between the marina and Redwood Shores was small and that it was critical to have coverage in both areas so they could react quickly. Jensen ultimately relented. “Try not to shoot yourself,” he’d said when he handed Gabriel his extra service weapon. “I know marines have trouble with that sort of thing.”

  Now Etta James sang softly in the background as Gabriel watched and waited. Part of the reason he’d sent Jensen to Redwood Shores was that he’d wanted some time to think. It seemed like forever ago he’d been living a quiet life on the vineyard with his wife and dog, though in reality it had been only a week and a half. So much had happened during that time that he hadn’t processed it all. One thing he was sure of: he loved the hunt, the sleuthing, the puzzle, and the excitement of cracking the case. He felt as if he’d stumbled into what he should be doing with his life, though he had no idea if he’d be able to keep doing it, or if he’d really want to if it meant moving to Washington, DC. He hated DC and everything it stood for; politics had become a blood sport, and even the agencies that were supposed to be above it all—the FBI, Justice Department, and even DHS—were infused with partisan infighting. Gabriel was not going to trade the vineyard for the swamp.

  But he also knew that Claire was right about him and that he needed more than what he was getting from their life in the Russian River Valley. His nightmares and anxiety had disappeared since he had gone on this mission, and he knew this was not a coincidence. Something in his subconscious was calling out for a mission in life, and going back to the wine wasn’t going to cut it for him. He’d need to find some way to get back in the game.

  For the next several hours, he and the DHS team checked in with one another on the half hour. Knox was reporting some activity around Redwood Shores but nothing on the water itself. One young couple was apparently having sex on the deck of one of the boats and hadn’t bothered to bring a blanket, but otherwise things were pretty quiet. So it was also across the bay at the wildlife refuge and the ecological reserve.

  By 3:00 a.m. Gabriel was starting to think that maybe he’d gotten it wrong and that Haniya had another target in mind. He picked up his phone and called Jensen on his cell.

  “You awake?” Gabriel asked when Jensen answered.

  “I’m awake. This ain’t my first rodeo, pal. Done my
fair share of stakeouts. It’s pure boredom punctuated by gnarly farts.”

  Gabriel laughed. “At least I’m by myself.”

  “Is she gonna show?”

  “We still have three hours until daybreak,” Gabriel said as if to buoy himself. “There’s still time.”

  “There’s definitely still time. Hang tough,” Jensen said, and disconnected the line.

  Just as Gabriel put his cell phone down, a voice, tinged with urgency, came over his headset. “We’ve got movement!”

  Gabriel keyed his mike. “Whaddya got?”

  “I’ve got movement at the marina! Single figure moving toward the boats, headed down the second line of slips. They’re heading toward a large boat moored at the end of the dock.”

  Gabriel got ready to get out of the truck but waited to hear more. If this was someone who entered the boat and turned on the lights, it could be someone who lived on the boat or a boater getting an early start on the day. “Keep watching.”

  “Roger. They’ve disappeared now behind the boat. I’m repositioning now to pick up the visual again.” The operator moved the drone around until he could see movement. “OK, I’ve got it. They’re getting in a small boat and moving away from the dock.”

  Gabriel didn’t wait for more information. He quickly got out of the truck, put Jensen’s Glock into his jacket pocket, and ran toward the dock.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-One

  Redwood City, California

  Haniya, dressed all in black with a black backpack, had slipped into a dinghy and was quietly rowing toward Redwood Creek and a group of homes along the water. It was pitch black, and the water was warm and still. She had worn a black turtleneck and quickly began to sweat.

  Her mission was to proceed along Redwood Creek, dropping the paper gently into the pools of water close to shore, among the reeds and plants that were thriving there. She intended to put out more than half the roll over the next two hours and then move to the west, under Bayshore Freeway, to get the payload as close to the Redwood City business district as possible.

  As she rowed toward where she planned to begin dropping the paper, she recited prayers, reaffirming her mission and knowing that the end was near. Whatever happened she would soon be with Allah.

  Gabriel sprinted toward the dock with the voice of the drone operator in his ear. “Head straight and then left down the gangway to that large boat, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

  Gabriel put his head down and pumped his arms and legs. He was acutely aware of his breathing because the microphone he was wearing made every breath echo in his ears. By the time he reached the boat, he was breathing heavily. “Look straight out from there,” the voice said. “Do you see her?”

  Gabriel peered into the darkness. He could just make out a dark form on the water, but she was moving steadily away from him. “I see her,” he said. Without prompting he went to the adjacent boat and found an inflatable dinghy tied up at the stern. He jumped in and landed in several inches of water on the bottom, soaking his boots and pants. Untying the dinghy, he grabbed a single oar and set out after her.

  “You’re about three hundred yards behind her. Keep heading in the direction you are currently going,” said the voice.

  Gabriel kept paddling in a rhythm: one paddle on the left, two on the right, two on the left, one on the right. He’d spent summers on a lake in Michigan as a kid and knew how to get around on a boat.

  Haniya stopped her own paddling and drifted the last fifteen feet toward a series of small ponds just adjacent to the creek. They had been built for the enjoyment of nearby residents and filled with turtles and koi fish, with benches and chairs arrayed around them. Coming to a rest at a small dock, she took off her backpack and unzipped it. Gently taking out the roll of paper, she took off the wrapper and unspooled a foot of it, tearing it easily with her hands. Then moving toward the pond, she gently submerged the paper in the warm water, allowing it to mingle with the reeds and grasses. Satisfied, she then repeated the same process with the other three ponds.

  “The target’s stopped and moving around just onshore,” the voice in Gabriel’s ear said. “Looks like she’s on a dock of some sort. It’s about a hundred fifty yards in front of you.”

  Gabriel continued his paddling, taking care to be as quiet as possible. He knew that sound traveled easily on the water, and he didn’t want to lose the element of surprise.

  “OK, the target’s back on the water headed away from you. Looks like she’s moving into the marsh area by the adjacent road. You’re about a hundred yards away now.”

  Instinctively, Gabriel crouched down in his dinghy, making smaller and smaller movements. His speed slowed to a crawl.

  Lee Jensen had heard it all on the radio and was racing down Bayshore Freeway toward the marina. His fellow DHS agent was driving, and Jensen was pressing him to go faster. They were following a Google map that clearly showed the road running adjacent to Redwood Creek, and that was where Jensen wanted to go. But they couldn’t find the access road to it and ended up behind a tall fence that divided the road from the water. Jensen was fit to be tied.

  “Knox!” he shouted. “Can you give me directions on how to get the fuck over there?”

  “Hang on,” Knox said, moving the drone around. “Turn around and head north until you get to Maple Street. Then you’ll have to park and hoof it.”

  “Fuck!” Jensen yelled.

  Gabriel was by then drifting silently forward, just ten yards from Haniya. He was prone on the floor of the dinghy with his gun in his right hand, his head barely peeking above the boat’s edge. Just a few more yards, and he’d have her.

  Haniya was oblivious to the threat behind her. Her prayers filled her mind, and she was totally focused on the task at hand. She’d methodically laid her paper trail down as she went, carefully submerging the eggs into the bath that would unleash a deadly disease on the infidel.

  Gabriel’s dinghy rammed into Haniya’s with more force than he was expecting; caught off balance, Haniya fell hard into the water just as Gabriel launched himself onto her boat. Without anything to push against, Gabriel missed his landing and bounced off the side of her boat, dropping his gun into the pitch-black creek. He was now unarmed, and they were now both in the water.

  Even before Gabriel could come up for air, she was on him. Trying to gouge his eyes out, grunting and shrieking, she pushed on his head and tried to force him under. Finding his footing, he braced himself on the bottom and grabbed her arm, twisting it as hard as he could. She then clawed at his face with every ounce of energy she had, drawing blood from his cheek. He was trying to grab her other hand when she was able to wrest herself free from his grasp.

  In a single practiced move, Haniya pulled a Fairbairn-style knife from a scabbard secured to her forearm and took a big slash at him. The knife, a type favored by commandos, was six inches long and razor sharp. Gabriel could feel the blade cut into his jacket, splitting it open like a ripe watermelon. It raked his skin, and he started bleeding from a long cut on his chest. She then came back at him from the other direction with a big sweeping motion, but Gabriel was able to block it with his forearm while grabbing her wrist with his free hand. The knife was now suspended in midair, hovering over him like a bird of prey waiting to find a target.

  It wasn’t a fair fight. Though Haniya had been well trained, she was more than sixty pounds lighter than Gabriel, and he quickly gained the upper hand. As she started to weaken, Gabriel felt a change in the pressure she was exerting; rather than pushing against him, she was pulling him into her, moving the knife ever closer to her face. He immediately sensed what she was doing and tried to stop her.

  But his feet were slipping on the slick bottom of the creek, and he couldn’t get the leverage needed to stop her momentum. In an instant, Haniya plunged the knife into her neck, cutting through cartilage and bone, severing her carotid artery in the process
.

  “No! No!” Gabriel screamed into the night. He reached out to her in the dark, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood, his hands trying to cover the wound in her neck.

  But it was too late. Blood coursed out of her body, bleeding through his fingers in waves, timed perfectly with the beating of her heart. After a moment he began to feel the sting of his own wound, and released his grip on her. She then settled slowly onto her back, her eyes open, fixed on the night sky.

  Like a skull floating upon the face of the water.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-Two

  Russian River Valley, California

  For many weeks afterward, Gabriel relived the events of that night in Redwood Creek. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind of Haniya’s blood on his hands, nor could he absolve himself of the guilt he felt. By letting Haniya kill herself he had forever lost the chance for the government to find out more about the plot and the plotters. He felt he’d let Witt and Jensen down, and he was having a hard time forgiving himself.

  That others had been more sanguine didn’t really make him feel any better; Witt had called him a hero and Jensen had been regularly sending texts with random inspirational movie quotes. Even the president had called to see how he was doing.

  And then slowly, as if a curtain was being lifted, he began to make peace with what had happened. And, in what Claire thought was the best sign of all, he was starting to get antsy.

  “So what now?” Claire asked one morning as they sat outside on the deck sipping coffee.

  Gabriel, sitting on a deck chair overlooking rolling hills filled with pinot vines, knew it wasn’t an idle question. He turned to her and said, “Witt wants me to come back to DHS. Says that the threat isn’t really over and the president is really worried about the Russians.”