When he saw the text, Mitch’s insides started to shake. It was really happening. Before he even opened her message, he popped over to his Tarin texts.

It’s happening tonight, Mitch informed – Tarin would need nothing else.

I think I’m heading over in about an hour. He finally read the girl’s message. Are you available? I’d like to meet you there. Despite his early wish to accompany her, he now realized that he couldn’t be anywhere near her if something happened to her. In fact, there would be documentation that he was elsewhere.

So sorry! he explained. I already drove back to Jamestown. I had to deal with a disgruntled customer. Do you think you’ll still go? Maybe you shouldn’t go alone.

It’s fine. Piper sent back. It’s Yale. There are students milling around there at all hours.

Okay. There’s a great coffee shop there off of Haven Street. Brand new. I’ll text you the map link. Mitch lied. Be safe.

Fortunately, Jennie didn’t protest when Piper asked for one more trip to Molly’s to talk about what to do with Lily. “I feel like the two of us might work better when we’re together.”

Fifteen minutes later, Piper had packed a backpack for Molly’s house and headed down Merritt Parkway.

As Bash and Luke approached the location of the IP address, the road narrowed. They had driven the main highway for most of the short trip from Armonk, but once they exited, the scenery changed.

“You realize,” Luke offered, his eyes gleaming, “that these houses are even more expensive than the ones in Jamestown.”

“Which means even better security.”

“It’s not like we’re going to break and enter. Have your charm ready just in case.”

Bash shot his cousin a glare. “We’re going to knock on the door? You do know that there is no way two Amazon researchers could afford one of these houses?”

“Staying with a friend?” Luke offered. It was really the only conceivable explanation. “What are we going to do if we find them?”

“I’m thinking,” Bash declared, “that we pick their brains to find out what pieces of the puzzle we are missing. And then, of course, we make them take Lily back. If they’re living it up on the harbor, they should have their daughter with them and give Piper a break.”

“You want to find out what puzzle pieces we are missing. Do we have any part of the puzzle at all?”

“A little bit,” Bash insisted. “We know that someone has targeted the scientists working on the Prados’ drug. We think that someone is using gang members to go after the Prados. We know they worked in the Amazon, but that may or may not have something to do with their situation.”

“What do we not know?”

“We don’t know why anyone would target the Prados.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to work with me?” Luke prodded. “You are good at this stuff.”

“Ok, you’re not going to flatter me into government service,” Bash countered, shutting down the conversation. See what we can imagine for motives.”

“There’s the obvious: the Amazon. Maybe activists, cartels.”

“But it seems unlikely to me that activists would think to use gangbangers,” Bash insisted. “It’s not the usual collaboration.”

“And I can’t see drug cartels ordering a hit on two scientists in the U.S., not once the other scientists have left the territory. Too much exposure. Someone is paying the gangs.”

Luke pulled off and parked on the side of the road in front of a small pizzeria. “I think that most likely. I haven’t eaten since this morning, though, and I want to do some recon on this place we are going.”

Entering the restaurant, Bash found a seat while Luke headed straight to the counter. “Do you want something?”

“Whatever the special is,” Bash murmured as he pulled out his laptop. He hated the delay, but they had a few hours before dark and a twenty-minute drive, so they should be fine. Pulling up a map, he typed in the address. There was a map site where he could view the property from the street. There was also an entry for the time it was most recently for sale. He clicked on the sale entry as Luke walked over with the two slices of pizza and two drinks.

“Find anything?” Luke prompted.

“Looking at pictures of the property. From satellite, it looks like a mansion for sure. The building proper is pretty far inside the perimeter, close to the water. We could come at it by boat.”

“You got a boat?”

Bash threw his cousin a disgruntled glare. “There is a little guard house or quarters on the east side of the house. We could hop the fence there.”

“By the guard…”

“It may not be a guard, just a quarters. And it looks really easy to access from the street.”

“Okay,” Luke allowed. “So we start there. What if we don’t see anything? Are you going to stroll up to the front door, without being let through the gate, and ring the bell?”

“No, I’m going to look at the quarters while you go up to the house. If you get caught, you’ve got fancy friends to get you out of trouble.”

Luke smirked. “They’re yours for the asking.”

“Do we wait until dusk to make ourselves less visible? They’ll have lights once it’s dark, but just after sunset, the visibility will be at the least.”

“I don’t think you should tell your Brown friends that you know how to do this,” Luke chuckled. “You might make them suspicious of your prep school reputation.”

Bash shrugged. “I have never said anything to them about my upbringing, true or false. And they have never asked. I’m good for their claims to diversity, so they don’t dig too deep.”

“You’re overstating.”

“I am,” Bash allowed. “A lot of them are just nice people, but there’s a noticeable trend with others. Near this property where we’re going,” Bash abruptly changed the subject, “there’s a public lake access. I know we don’t have a boat, but I’d rather kill two hours there than here,”

“I’m going to grab a coffee traveler from next door.”

“I’ll drive this time.”

+++++++++++

By the time Piper sat down in her Accord, the sun had made it halfway down the afternoon sky. She would need to book it to find the house before sunset, and she didn’t want to spend too much time in a place she didn’t know looking for two people who were probably in danger.

She texted Molly to give her an ETA. Once Piper made it to the coffee shop Mitch had mentioned, she would text Molly and head over to the Prados’ house. Despite her plans, she enjoyed the scenic drive to New Haven. Unfortunately, she hit a couple of patches of traffic on the Turnpike, so by the time she saw the New Haven harbor on her right, the sun had dipped below the buildings on her left. It broke through intermittently as she made her way up I-95 and into the city. The map didn’t show a coffee shop, but Piper headed to the location. After all, Mitch had told her the place was brand new – it might not be on the map yet.

Though she knew she was near Yale, the neighborhood did not speak college life. No coeds strolled between buildings, no bookstores lined the street. In fact, many of the buildings seemed boarded up. The fact did not particularly concern Piper since she had seen many sections near Brown undergo significant gentrification since her freshman year.

Still, when she parked at the address and got out of her car, her mind kicked into high gear, as if she recognized danger. She quickly texted Molly that she was going to grab coffee then try to drive by the house. The pair had agreed that Molly would call back after fifteen minutes and make sure Piper was okay.

The street lamps had just switched on, though many of them didn’t work, and Piper noted the graffiti that coated several of the buildings. Since she hadn’t seen the entrance on Haven Street, she walked around to the side of the edifice in search of an entrance sign. She could find nothing. Opposite the supposed coffee shop stood a series of warehouses, tagged colorfully all along their length.

Under a nearby streetlamp stood a cluster of young people. At first, the sight reassured Piper, as she believed she had finally encountered the college students she had expected. Looking more closely, though, she started to panic. Tattoos decorated so much of the bare skin, of both the young men and the young women. In and of itself, the concept wouldn’t have bothered Piper, but the sheer coverage of the ink seemed uncharacteristic of any college students she had encountered, either at Brown or URI.

To her horror, several of them turned their heads to observe her, their level of chatter and laughter rising as they took her in. Piper didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. These were not students. They were not even some partying high schoolers. They were dangerous, and Piper had no idea where she was.

She started back to her car, but the group of young people had expected it, and several of the larger males made straight toward the vehicle. Spinning, Piper squeezed between a couple of buildings into the street parallel to Haven, her heart pounding in her chest. If she could find a place to duck down and hide, she would text Molly or check her maps, but she couldn’t afford to take the time until she found a refuge. As if in answer to her thought, a blank-faced church rose up before her. She skittered down the narrow space between the church walls and the fence and pressed herself behind some dense bushes at the back of the lot. She did not think anyone had seen her turn in to the yard, but she would wait several minutes before she risked the light of her phone. Her heart battered the inside of her ribcage, and she forced slow breaths in and out lest her gasps attract attention. As soon as she could manage, she would call 911.

+++++++++++

The sun was just dropping behind the trees when Bash and Luke approached the property. From the main entrance, they could not detect any light on the property. On the side street, they could make out the little cottage-like quarters that sided on the road. Within a few seconds of parking the car, Bash had jumped out and mounted the six-foot wrought-iron fence beside the little house. The roof dipped to only a few inches above the fence, and Bash easily used his grip on the roof line to balance his ascent onto the roof. From the dormer windows, he could detect the faintest light, and he slowly crept from window to window to see if he could find a better view. Once he had reached the end of the roof, he found an elevated patio that lead to the second-story entrance. Apparently, like a lot of quarters, the top floor housed a small residence.

From the tiny window in the door, he could view the inside of the abode. A small living area with a kitchenette took the entirety of the width of the building, and about twenty feet from where he stood, Bash could see another door. He guessed it led to a bedroom. Even though the sun had fallen and the sky had grown deep grey, Bash did not detect any security. Behind him, he thought he heard his cousin creeping through the grass toward the main house.

As he watched the little window, Bash observed a sliver of light break around the ostensible bedroom door. A slender man eased into the living room and headed toward the small refrigerator, retrieving a bottle of water before heading back to the bedroom.

Behind Bash, he heard a shout and, unsure from how far away it had come, he crept toward the steps. Had Luke run into trouble?

A crackling of leaves immediately at the bottom of the stone steps sent Bash for cover, his eyes riveted on the spot as he ducked behind a storage box. He could see two figures grappling, one no doubt his cousin, but he could not discern who had the upper hand. When one of the figures headed up the steps, Bash peered through the darkness at a shape that did not look like Luke. Luke was, however, hot on the other man’s trail. In an attempt to help, Bash knocked over a chair as the escapee mounted the top step. The man stumbled, and Luke grabbed on the man’s ankle, yanking him down a few steps, no doubt a painful fall. In an instant, Luke was on the man. Bash now stood to his feet, guarding the top of the stairs to ensure that the stranger couldn’t make any unexpected move. A moment later, Luke brought his gun down on the man’s head, and the form went limp.

“He wasn’t a security guard,” Luke explained. “And he had a gun.”

“Correction,” came a voice from the doorway. “He has a gun. Now I suggest you put yours down if you don’t want me to shoot your companion. My wife has already called the police.” Both Bash and Luke stared up into a face of sheer determination, a face neither man would challenge.

After placing his gun on the ground and shoving it toward the man at the door, Luke stood to his feet, placing his right foot squarely on the unconscious man’s back. Sebastian slowly turned toward the door with his hands raised.

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” Luke spoke slowly, his hands clearly raised above his head, “but this man is very dangerous. I found him here with a gun. He has serious gang tattoos. Based on those, he has killed at least three people. I need to bind him so that he can’t hurt anyone once he wakes up.”

“Come over here,” the man gestured to Bash to step closer. “I will keep the gun on your companion,” he instructed Luke, “while you tie up the man on the ground. Do you have rope?”

“Zip ties. I carry them on a utility belt.”

Bash tacitly wondered how often his cousin had to tie someone up.

“Tie him up them,” the resident allowed, “then come tie your friend up, and we can talk. Maybe before the police come.”

With expert speed and precision, Luke bound the man’s hands and feet. Bash was impressed. A moment later the man with the gun gestured for Bash to sit in one of the patio chairs, and Luke bound Bash’s hands in front of him and feet around the ankles.

“Look, mister,” Luke comforted, “I understand why you are scared. I want to step back a couple of paces and let you move my gun back toward your door, then I want you to come over to me and reach in my back pocket. I will turn around so I can’t see you. In my pocket, you will find my ID.”

“That all sounds okay,” agreed the man with the gun. Bash could see the face of the woman peeking out the small window in the door.

After moving the gun with his feet, the man stepped toward Luke, slipping his hand into the pants pocket and pulling out a leather ID wallet. The man stepped back into the light and perused it, confusion apparent on his face.

“CIA?” he wondered, obviously skeptical.

“May I turn around?” Luke wondered.

“Okay,” the man agreed.

“My partner and I followed an IP address to this location. We are looking for Bernardo and Vivian Prado. They are friends of one of our friends; our friend has been desperately looking for the Prados for a week.”

“Could I call the CIA and get verification of your identity?”

“You are a very smart man,” Luke smiled.

“So I’ve been told,” the stranger leveled, unimpressed.

“You can call the CIA and ask them to patch you through to Isaac Wilson. He is my supervisor and the only one who knows what I’m doing here. I’ll give you my identification code and they will send you on to Isaac.”

Holding the gun steady with one hand, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out the phone. He held down a button and spoke the words, “Call the CIA.”

The female AI placed the call, and Luke began to instruct the man. “You will get some generic message, after hours, lots of pressing buttons to reach different divisions that don’t actually go anywhere. I can give you the code to get to the switchboard, and then you will repeat my ID for the person who answers.”

A minute later, the man had reached a switchboard, and three minutes later, a man’s voice answered.

“That’s him,” Luke instructed.

“Isaac?” the man with the gun asked.

“Who is asking?”

“Can you put him on speaker so that I can give him my ID?” Luke requested.

The man with the gun did so, and after another few seconds, Isaac had confirmed Luke’s identity. “He is on a sideleg of an international mission. He has no police authority in his current role, but he is legitimate in his identity and his intentions.”

“Thank you,” the man with the gun said before switching off his phone. “Is he CIA, too?” the man gestured to Bash.

“He is currently deputized with comparable powers to mine, but neither one of us has any intention of doing anything except protect you. Are you, in fact, Bernardo Prado?”

The man lowered the gun. “Do you think that man will wake up any time soon?” he wondered.

“If you will let me,” Luke offered, “I will bind him a little better and attach him to the banister here.”

“Go ahead,” the man agreed. “I am Bernardo, and my wife, Vivian is inside. Why are you here?” The man clicked the safety on and slid the gun in the back of his pants.

“We are friends of Piper Hayes,” Bash admitted, tired of the uncertainty in the man’s eyes. “She has been desperate to find you. When you sent her the email, we were able to trace it here.”

“I used a VPN,” Bernardo asserted.

“It was a good plan, and generally it works well, but we have resources to manage that.” Luke informed.

When Vivian cracked the door, Bernardo gestured for her to come out. “These are friends of Piper,” he explained. “They tracked us down using the email we sent.”

“How can you be sure they’re telling the truth? Vivian prodded.

“That one is CIA,” Bernardo insisted, and Luke raised his hand.

“May I cut my associate free?” Luke begged, and Bernardo nodded.

Grateful, Bash rubbed his wrists once they were loose. He had despised being bound.