Page 54 of The 24th Hour
“Brilliant,” said Bao. “The IP address of the target should belong to an Apocalypto-operated computer.”
CHAPTER 69
BAO WONG CALLED Pete Wooten’s direct line and Wooten picked up.
He said, “We have high confidence that this is it. The coordinates are on target—”
Sveinn Thordarson joined in, saying, “There’s a Starbucks on Divisadero Street at the corner of Bush Street. Joe, you know it?”
“Very well,” Joe said. “Their Wi-Fi is strong.”
Wooten said, “I’m guessing their operator is going to look perfectly natural in there. Probably young.”
Ten minutes after the call with Cyber Security Incorporated, Joe and Bao drove past the Divisadero Street intersection with Bush and parked across the street from the coffee shop. Bao called Pete Wooten for the second time since leaving the FBI offices.
“Pete, we’re across the street from Starbucks now.”
Wooten said, “Bao, assuming you’re still wearing a suit, Joeshould go in, buy something, sit down, and text me. The code from Apocalypto is on the subjects’ computer right now.”
Joe said, “Copy,” and headed across the street to the coffee shop. Bao slid over to the driver’s side in case they had to move fast. And then she watched and waited.
A few customers drifted out of the store with coffee containers in hand, but five minutes passed and Joe was still inside the shop. What was keeping him? This could be their only shot at Apocalypto. Bao patted the gun on her hip, then opened the car door.
CHAPTER 70
BAO WAS WAITING for a break in the traffic so she could dash across Divisadero Street—when she saw Joe moving rapidly toward her. He was carrying something under his arm. Once he reached Bao, he showed her a laptop.
“You’ve got it? That’s the one?”
“Better be,” Joe said. “But we still need the operator.”
He got back into the driver’s seat and buckled up, as did Bao.
She said, “I’m dying, Joe. Talk to me.”
“I’ll tell you everything. But first, we have to find the owner of this laptop.”
Joe flipped on the flashing emergency lights and pulled out onto the road. When the car was in the clear, he turned the wheel hard and headed slowly up Divisadero toward Pine Street. A soft light filtered through the trees that lined the wide two-lane street. Traffic was sparse.
“Joe?”
“So when I walk toward the front door, I see through the window that there’s a laptop sitting on a table by itself.”
“Noooo.”
“I head for the laptop, but someone beats me to it and takes it up to the barista on the other side of the room. Now there’s another person between us in the line. So when I get to the front, I pull my badge. I signal for the laptop and ask the barista does she know the guy who left it. Could she describe him? Yes, she could. What was his name?
“She didn’t remember what name he gave for his order, but she described him. White male, five ten or so, chunky build, in his early thirties, wearing jeans and a green windbreaker. I realized I saw that guy leaving Starbucks as I was coming in. I saw him, Bao. But since he wasn’t wearing an Apocalypto sweatshirt, I didn’t think anything of him. Now, we’re going to look for him.”
A driver behind them honked his horn.
“Bao,” said Joe. “Flip that guy the bird, okay?”
She snorted and said, “Joe, slow down, in case we pass a thirty-something in a green jacket.”
Joe smiled. “Have faith. After I got the laptop, the barista—her name is Sophie—said, ‘There’s a note inside.’”
Bao picked the computer up off the floor, opened the lid, and saw a Post-it note with a couple of lines of handwriting stuck to the screen. She read it out loud.