beneath and behind it. His fingers slowed when they came in contact with what felt like a plastic bag attached behind the metal backing of the drawer.
He wrestled it out of its tracks and eased it out of the cabinet so he could see what was secreted there. A clear ziplock bag was duct taped to the back metal plate. “I’ve got something here.” He was aware of the immediate interest his words elicited from his companions even as he gently worked the bag free of its attachment.
Macy and Travis crowded closer as he opened the bag and extracted the large folded paper inside it. He handed the bag to Macy and unfolded the pages. The three of them stared at what appeared to be a blueprint of the security schematics of the Mulder estate.
“Jackpot,” muttered Kell. There was no legal way for Hubbard to have acquired copies of the specs of Mulder’s security. Either he’d somehow gotten them from the security company that had sold the billionaire the system or he’d stolen them from Mulder. Either way, their presence was incriminating.
“Let’s start bagging and tagging evidence,” suggested Travis. “We’re about done here, aren’t we?”
“Why don’t you check out the garage first?” Kell rose, folding the sheets and handing them to Macy to be replaced in the bag. “That’s listed on the warrant, right? This place should have a basement. I’ll look through that. Macy, get pictures of every room, and especially on every piece of evidence we’re going to be collecting. Oh, go through the garbage first. We need to . . . what?” Belatedly, he noted the looks he was getting from the other two.
“Nothing,” she said with that snippy little tone that dripped with the King’s English. “Perhaps we could run out and get you coffee, too.”
The suggestion had him trying, and failing, to recall when he’d last eaten. “Not a bad idea, but we really don’t have time. We can grab a sandwich on our way back, though.”
“You’re not running this op, Burke.” Travis’s dry tone succeeded in distracting him from his stomach. “I think that’s what your partner’s trying to point out, with more subtlety than I’d use.”
“Well, Jesus.” Mystified, he put his hands up in surrender. “You want to check for a basement while I go outside, I’m fine with that. And you”—he shot Macy a look—“go ahead and do whatever the hell it is that you want to.”
“If I did,” she informed him as she swept by, “you’d be bleeding.”
He made a what’d-I-do gesture to the agent, who just gave him a smug smile as he followed her into the hallway.
“I’ll take the garage.”
“Good idea,” he muttered, wondering what the hell that had been about. Okay, so he’d been accused of being less than diplomatic before, but someone had to take the lead. Sitting down and negotiating who does what just wasted time, and he hadn’t been kidding about being hungry. He hadn’t eaten since grabbing something from an all-night drive-through on the way to Manassas this morning.
Mood slightly soured, he went to the drawers of the dresser to check them more thoroughly before heading downstairs. Pretty unlikely there’d be any more secret info taped behind or under drawers, but it bore checking out. He’d learned the value of thoroughness through his long years with Raiker.
Diplomacy was a lesson he’d failed to learn from his boss, since Raiker was frequently devoid of the quality himself.
He pulled the dresser out a bit from the wall to peer behind it, found nothing. Certain it was a waste of time, he did the same thing to the bed so he could look behind the head-board.
“Burke.”
The voice was Macy’s, sounding closer than he’d expected. She was still somewhere upstairs. “Yeah.”
“Come look at this.”
“I will.” He moved toward the door and into the hallway. “Without complaint, and without getting all bent out of shape about being told what to do, I’ll willingly follow your order.
He wrestled it out of its tracks and eased it out of the cabinet so he could see what was secreted there. A clear ziplock bag was duct taped to the back metal plate. “I’ve got something here.” He was aware of the immediate interest his words elicited from his companions even as he gently worked the bag free of its attachment.
Macy and Travis crowded closer as he opened the bag and extracted the large folded paper inside it. He handed the bag to Macy and unfolded the pages. The three of them stared at what appeared to be a blueprint of the security schematics of the Mulder estate.
“Jackpot,” muttered Kell. There was no legal way for Hubbard to have acquired copies of the specs of Mulder’s security. Either he’d somehow gotten them from the security company that had sold the billionaire the system or he’d stolen them from Mulder. Either way, their presence was incriminating.
“Let’s start bagging and tagging evidence,” suggested Travis. “We’re about done here, aren’t we?”
“Why don’t you check out the garage first?” Kell rose, folding the sheets and handing them to Macy to be replaced in the bag. “That’s listed on the warrant, right? This place should have a basement. I’ll look through that. Macy, get pictures of every room, and especially on every piece of evidence we’re going to be collecting. Oh, go through the garbage first. We need to . . . what?” Belatedly, he noted the looks he was getting from the other two.
“Nothing,” she said with that snippy little tone that dripped with the King’s English. “Perhaps we could run out and get you coffee, too.”
The suggestion had him trying, and failing, to recall when he’d last eaten. “Not a bad idea, but we really don’t have time. We can grab a sandwich on our way back, though.”
“You’re not running this op, Burke.” Travis’s dry tone succeeded in distracting him from his stomach. “I think that’s what your partner’s trying to point out, with more subtlety than I’d use.”
“Well, Jesus.” Mystified, he put his hands up in surrender. “You want to check for a basement while I go outside, I’m fine with that. And you”—he shot Macy a look—“go ahead and do whatever the hell it is that you want to.”
“If I did,” she informed him as she swept by, “you’d be bleeding.”
He made a what’d-I-do gesture to the agent, who just gave him a smug smile as he followed her into the hallway.
“I’ll take the garage.”
“Good idea,” he muttered, wondering what the hell that had been about. Okay, so he’d been accused of being less than diplomatic before, but someone had to take the lead. Sitting down and negotiating who does what just wasted time, and he hadn’t been kidding about being hungry. He hadn’t eaten since grabbing something from an all-night drive-through on the way to Manassas this morning.
Mood slightly soured, he went to the drawers of the dresser to check them more thoroughly before heading downstairs. Pretty unlikely there’d be any more secret info taped behind or under drawers, but it bore checking out. He’d learned the value of thoroughness through his long years with Raiker.
Diplomacy was a lesson he’d failed to learn from his boss, since Raiker was frequently devoid of the quality himself.
He pulled the dresser out a bit from the wall to peer behind it, found nothing. Certain it was a waste of time, he did the same thing to the bed so he could look behind the head-board.
“Burke.”
The voice was Macy’s, sounding closer than he’d expected. She was still somewhere upstairs. “Yeah.”
“Come look at this.”
“I will.” He moved toward the door and into the hallway. “Without complaint, and without getting all bent out of shape about being told what to do, I’ll willingly follow your order.
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