“Did you find her?”

Ben Davis shook his head. “I checked out at the school. They said she was there last night, but didn’t stop in this morning. They didn’t expect her, but she’s been there every day since she dropped her brother off, so it was the first time they hadn’t heard from her.” It was understood she’d given Carlsen the slip at the motel.

Spaulding reread the message from the Quantico genetics lab and made his decision.

“Let’s get the team out to the lab. Call ISP for back up. I’ve got to finish lining up the warrant. We’re going to pick up Dr. Bruno Abrams.”

Davis cleared his throat.

“Uh, Sheriff, there’s already something going down at the lab. The protestors have a huge crowd. ISP is already out there with their tactical unit.”

“What? Who called them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shit. Get everyone out there. I’ll get backup from Rexburg.”

***

Steven Cole twirled his pen, waiting for Jorgenson to finish his report. He checked his watch, noting that the field exercise for the auditors was underway, which he purposely avoided to ensure a continued projection of confidence. He’d show up at the end to take their questions and bask in the accolades.

“She gave us the slip, and the cops, too. I don’t know how. She appeared to have help.”

Cole frowned.

“What kind of help?”

“Two cars, civilians, ran interference for her. We couldn’t continue without tipping our hand.”

Jorgenson waited for orders.

Cole spun his pen, lips tight, scowling.

“Does this have anything do with the front gates? What’s got them going?”

Jorgenson shook his head. “No idea, it’s growing, and they keep trying to push through the gates every time they open.”

Cole’s device trilled and he looked down at it, then stared harder.

“Goddamit.” He flicked through several incoming messages.

“What is it?”

“The trial for the audit team. One of the subjects was killed. In front of them.” Cole chewed a fingernail. He knew if he’d shared his concerns about the girl and the farmer, Jorgenson might act precipitously. Not yet. “Get the girl. Put her in the basement. She’s not leaving the facility.”

***

Harlan Tisdale lowered the megaphone, pleased with how the crowd took up the chants and pressed closer to the front gates. The alert from yesterday about the abducted protester had its intended effect. The security personnel looked nervous.

Good.

He looked over his shoulder at the line of vehicles streaming in, obstructed by the flashing lights of police vehicles clustered at check points. He smiled at the sight of the newly arrived protestors abandoning their vehicles and continuing on foot to join the crowd at the gate. The police scrambled to contain the throng, ineffectively. Off in the distance beyond the facility, military aircraft buzzed and swooped. Some kind of exercise was underway, the catalyst for more excitement from the growing crowd. The sound of gunfire earlier put everyone on edge.

This would be his best direct-action project yet.

Chapter 55