Page 63 of Under the Radar
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Mo took a deep breath and tried to remember what had happened. A dank smell permeated her nostrils, like wet mold. Ugh. Her head pounded, and her mouth tasted like she’d swallowed metal. She tried to move her feet, but they were like lead weights. Same with her hands tied behind her back.
What the hell happened? She shook her head and groaned. Why couldn’t she remember? And why was her brain foggy?
Mo forced her eyes open, but everything remained black. No. Wait…there was a blindfold. The binding pressed against her forehead. She looked down and a small streak of light peeked from the bottom of her right cheek. Panic crept through her veins like a boa constrictor on the squeeze.
She struggled to move, and her heart fluttered like a trapped bird in her chest. Mo gulped more of the musty air. It was all too much, and she drifted under again.
She forced her eyes open when a door creaked. Someone was there. She could hear them breathing. A rough finger traced the oval of her face. They gave a sardonic chuckle and closed the door behind them.
The violation of that touch chilled her to the core, and the nausea began. Mo struggled to turn her head, so she didn’t choke on herself. Her face slipped over an edge just before she emptied the contents of her stomach. She heard it hit the floor.
What was she lying on? She grappled to touch with her bound fingers behind her. It was soft like fleece and cushioned. A cot or a bed? Didn’t matter. As long as she wasn’t laying in the mess she’d just made. She braced her forehead on the rim and rubbed back and forth. The blindfold didn’t budge. She slumped down, exhausted, and drifted away.
She woke panting, remembering the events that brought her there. The text about her father, her frightened dash to the limo, the fist that punched her in the face, and the cloth over her mouth until she couldn’t breathe. Mo fought tears so hard her body shuddered. But in the end, mewling sobs overcame her resolve. They carried her to the brink of unconsciousness and dumped her into the abyss of sleep.
* * *
Mac joined the Sanctuary crowd gathered around the main computer. “The signal worked fine yesterday on the ship. I knew where Mo was even when she changed locations. I find it hard to believe that the earrings are malfunctioning. And she was wearing them when I left her this morning.”
Ethan connected Mac’s phone and opened the app Hugh had downloaded in Nassau. Dozens and dozens of red dots popped up. Ethan zoomed out on the map. The dots were concentrated in Baltimore. Ethan opened a new screen and inserted the information onto a Baltimore city map. Everyone stood back and contemplated the screen.
Former military analyst Liz Nelson leaned toward the screen. “Move over, guys, let me get a closer look.” She planted her elbows on the table and slipped on a pair of glasses. “Well, I’ll be…come here, Mooney, you remember seeing this in Iraq?”
Mooney moved closer and peered at the screen. “Nope, I’ve never seen a mess like that. It gives me a headache just looking at it. You’ve worked with it before?”
Mac moved out of the way to give Liz more room, and Ethan got up, giving her the seat directly in front of the screen.
“Your girl’s got her earrings on, Mac. You’re looking at the proof of it. And I’m pretty sure the GPS is working just fine.” She pointed at the monitor. “I worked with this program in the Middle East. It’s a special scrambler and only a couple years old. We used it when we air-dropped Special Ops into an enemy environment. I’ve wondered how long it would be before I saw it used on the black market. You know how it is, the Department of Defense makes, and the world takes.”
Ethan unscrewed the cap on a bottle of soda and took a swig. “What are we looking at?”
Liz gave an evil chuckle and tapped a few keys on the keyboard. “That’s right, friends, it’s all about the waves. It’s the same program. See—Mac’s phone is talking with our girl’s earring, but wherever she’s stowed has this scrambler running on-site. The scrambler picks up on anything and everything with a wave, bounces it off the satellite, and on the return trip it fractures into pieces and attaches itself to another wave on the ground. That’s why you have all these dots on the screen.”
Nick dragged a chair over and offered it to Mac.
Liz continued, “Every home has about eighty devices that use waves. You’ve got microwaves, garage door openers, Wi-Fi, phones, computers, modems, laptops, baby monitors, light bulbs, and the list goes on and on. We dropped a lot of manpower from the sky over there and every jumper had equipment with waves, like radios, iPads, phones, even the laser on a rifle. The scrambler breaks each wave into so many pieces that unless the hostiles had eyes-on, they couldn’t track us. At least, not electronically. It was developed by a millennial gamer as the government version of ‘Where’s Waldo.’ This program saved a lot of lives in Iraq—both military and civilian.”
Mac placed his hands on the back of Liz’s chair. “Is there any way to disable it or get it to work in reverse?”
Liz shook her head. “Not that I know of; it’s a one-way ticket. But we can use the process of elimination to figure out which of these dots are duds. It takes boots on the ground at each of the coordinates. Sometimes the dot is a gas and electric meter or a cell phone.” Liz turned around and counted. “There are eight of us, minus one who’ll need to stay here and cross off the locations. We’d need to move quickly, but it’s possible we could narrow down the choices to a select few.”
Mac crossed his arms. “Do you have any idea why Mo’s audio is so garbled?”
“No. None. I’m sorry.”
Ethan piped up. “You want us to start the elimination process, Mac?”
“Definitely. Let’s break into groups of two. I’ll be the single with my driver. You want to man the communications from here, Liz? Dispatch each dot location to a team and we’ll report back?”
Liz looked up from the screen. “That’s fine by me.” She pulled her burner phone from a pocket. “I need each of you to put your number in my phone. First names only, please.”
Mac stood. “Make sure your burner is fully charged. If not, grab a new phone from the counter. Take all your hardware with you. We’ll work one sector at a time in case we need to investigate a building. We’ll be that much closer to each other for back-up. Any questions?”
Liz raised a finger. “Commander, the scrambler resets the locations every three or four hours. The only coordinate that remains constant after that reset is Mo and the earring. I’ll be watching for that dot.”
Mac nodded. He stood at the table where Liz was organizing herself for the work ahead. He waited until everyone had moved out. “You’re new?”