Blood List(67)

"Sure will. What can I do for you, sweetie?" Her voice was saccharine, with an undertone of annoyance. She loved hacking and was obsessive once on a project. Like a pit bull on a leg, she had a hard time letting it go.

"Can you book us a later flight? There's no way we're going to make it to Gabrielle's and back to the airport."

"Sure," she said as if booking plane tickets was the best job in the entire world. "One new set of tickets, coming right up!"

Carl stared out the window at the never-ending trail of cars. "We could walk faster than this, couldn't we?"

They'd made it another two car lengths when she came back with a reply. Carl was right. They could walk faster than this.

"Um, Gene, Homeland Security's grounded all flights out of the Greater Bay Area." Gene's head felt like it was going to explode. As if catching Paul Renner wasn't enough to worry about.

Carl piped up from the back seat, "Must be something big going on."

Doug was a little more useful. "Any idea what, Sam?" He turned on the radio and got an Emergency Broadcast System test. He changed the channel and got the same tone. Third channel, same thing. Gene slapped his hand away from the radio.

"Just leave it, Doug. They'll explain in a minute."

Sam replied, "Nothing's trickled through to the FBI yet."

After ten or so seconds the tone stopped.

"This is the Federal Emergency Broadcast System. This is not a test. This is not a test. The Homeland Threat Level is now Very High. A Homeland Security Emergency has been declared for the cities of San Francisco, Daly City, Pacifica, Millbrae, Colma, Burlingame, and San Mateo. If you are in your home or your place of work, do not leave. If you are within five miles of work or home, go there. If traveling by auto and not within five miles of work or home, pull to the side of the road and await further instructions. All military, hospital, and emergency personnel are to report to their stations immediately.

"This is the Federal Emergency Broadcast System. This is not a test. This is not a test." The message repeated. Numb, they listened to it a second time.

Carl leaned back in his seat. "Holy shit. They can't just lock down the entire peninsula."

Doug's face had turned a pale white. "Yeah, well, they just did."

Gene shook his head. "Well, forget that. We're the FBI, and we've got a killer to catch."

"Badges got to be good for something," Carl said.

Gene looked in the rear-view mirror. Ashen faces listened to radios in other cars. People yelled out their windows to other drivers, telling them to turn on their radios.

"Hey, Gene?" Sam's voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Yeah, Sam, go ahead."

"The FBI just got a national bulletin. You're not going to believe this shit. It says a radical group called the Aryan Ascendancy—never heard of them, but I'll bet they're a bunch of assholes—just smuggled a nuclear warhead into the country through San Francisco. They've put up a picture with the name Harold Trubb, and you're not going to believe who the prime suspect is."

Gene waited a moment and got no response.

"Goddamn it, Sam," Doug said. "Who the hell is it?"

"Renner."

Gene had to have misheard that. "Did you just say Paul Renner is threatening a nuclear attack on the Bay Area?"

"It's his picture, Gene, sure as I'm a fat broad. I'll download it to your PDA. Funny thing, though. Nothing we know about Renner ties him to neo-Nazis."

Carl muttered in the back seat, "Wouldn't surprise me." Gene's PDA blipped and a picture of Paul Renner appeared. It was fuzzy, as if taken from a security camera, but unmistakable.

Traffic had come to a standstill. Some cars pulled off the road. Most just sat there. Some people got out of their cars, earning honks, curses, and middle fingers from other drivers. The volume rose as shouts added to the horns.

Sam's whisper carried over the COM as clear as day. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Sam, we heard that."

"Gene, something's desperately wrong here. I've got another picture here, an accomplice. Name's listed as Jim Palenti. I'm sending it to your PDA now." It blipped, and all three of them looked at it.

"Jesus, Gene, is that you?" Carl sounded as incredulous as Gene felt. The picture was from an FTA, field training exercise, almost eight years ago. Gene held a machine gun and wore forest-camo fatigues. With his shaved head, he really did look like a neo-Nazi.

Gene stared at the picture, speechless. Doug replied instead, "Is this for real?"

Sam's tone was serious. "I wouldn't joke about something like this, guys. Not after Jerri and Marty." She cleared her throat. "Gene, what the hell is going on?"