Tuesday morning, shortly after midnight: Ft. Peck Indian Reservation

Andrews and Burk ambled to the car in silence. Both agents opened their car doors, stopped and looked back at the house.

“She’s one smart little bitch,” Burk said.

“Yes, she is,” Andrews agreed.

“And cocky, too.”

Andrews nodded and smiled, “Very.”

“Think she’s lying about who called her?”

“Lying through her ass.”

“Do you think she’s lying about Barnabas owning a hangar in Seattle?”

Andrews shrugged, “Don’t know. She’s a cool customer, that’s for sure. If Barnabas were smuggling a giant-assed nuclear bomb into the US, Seattle is a good point of entry and a hangar would be a good place to store it.”

“Seattle is where Boeing is,” Burk noted. “They also have Aerojet, AIM Aerospace, Blue Origin, Esterline and Zodiac in Seattle. They all make planes and they all have dozens of hangars... each. That doesn’t count all the Seattle-based companies that make major airline parts. They have hangars, too. And there’s all the regional airports and airplane maintenance facilities.”

“So... needle in a haystack?”

Burk shrugged, “What else do we have?”

“Come on, get in the car and let's call Zager.”

“He'll be in bed.”

Andrews looked at his watch, “No he won't. He'll be playing Call of Duty. Let’s set the wheels in motion. I’m sure Lindsay will call someone as soon as we leave. I want to hear the call.”

Andrews started the car and pulled away. He used his Bluetooth voice command to call Agent Zager. He was still awake as Andrews predicted. He instructed Zager to monitor Lindsay's phone and call him immediately if she made a call on her cell. 

“I can patch it through to your cell right away when it happens,” he said. “You can hear it live. Anything else?”

“Yes, Ms. Vanderbilt also said Barnabas owns a hangar in the Seattle area,” Andrews said. “Dig into it. It may be where the bomb gets stored, or perhaps even its final destination.  Check out every privately-owned hangar from Tacoma to Bellingham.”

“That will take days,” Zagar said.

“Then you’d better start right away.  Get Evans and the rest of the team on it. We’ll pay the overtime.  Start with a ten-mile circle around Boeing Field and keep expanding until you run across something of interest.”

“You got it,” Zager said, pausing. “Hold on.”

“What is it?”

“A call is being made from Lindsay Vanderbilt’s cellular phone right now.”

“Patch it through to us,” Burk said.

“Doing it now.”

Andrews and Burks leaned forward to listen to the call now ringing through the Bluetooth over the vehicle’s sound system.

(Ringing)

UNIDENTIFIED MAN (Voice digitally disguised): “Hello.”

LINDSAY: “It’s Lindsay. The FBI was just here again.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “At this time of night? What did they want?”

LINDSAY: “They asked me many of the same questions as before.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “What did you tell them?”

LINDSAY: “The truth. I told you—I will not lie for Jackson—not after he cut me out of his life. He can go to hell. I wanted you to know, James.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “Don’t use my name.”

LINDSAY: “Oh... right, sorry.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “Did you tell them anything else?”

LINDSAY: “Yes. I told them something that Jackson told me before—that Barnabas owns an airplane hangar in the Seattle area.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “You told them that?  Why? Are you crazy? That was a huge mistake.”

LINDSAY: “Red Feather and Yellow Wolf were in jail. I had to give them something to get the FBI to release them. I thought…”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “You shouldn’t have done that, Lindsay. Rainhorse isn’t ready for them to converge on Seattle. Barnabas will detect them and react. Remember, they have a mole within the FBI.”

LINDSAY: “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just worried. He needs help.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: (Pausing) “Listen, I need you to help me. We might still get something positive out of this.”

LINDSAY: “What do you want me to do?”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “Call them back. Tell them you remembered the hangar was near Ft. Lewis military base, outside Tacoma.”

LINDSAY: “Ft. Lewis?  What good will that do?”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “They already know Barnabas is in the Seattle area, now. This will at least draw their attention to Tacoma. When Rainhorse needs them, they’ll be close.”

LINDSAY: “I see. Ok, I’ll do it.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “Thanks Lindsay.”

LINDSAY: “I’m sorry I screwed up.”

UNIDENTIFIED MAN: “We’ll deal with it.  Just make the call.”

The call ended.

“Did you hear all that?” Zagar asked.

“I did,” replied Andrews.

“Any idea who this 'James’ guy is?'“

“No, but you will find out for me.”

“I can’t use voice recognition on that digitally altered voice.”

“Then find another way.  Check all of Barnabas’s known accomplices. Check the name, ‘James,’ against Rainhorse’s military records.”

“James is the most common name for a man in the US. I’ll get the phone book with that search,” Zagar noted.

“I know, but do it.”

“I will. I pinpointed the location of the call,” Zager said. “It did, in fact, come from Seattle.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Andrews hit the end button on his cell and scratched his head. He looked at Burk who sat staring at the phone as if she was trying to process the data.  Finally, it was Andrews who spoke first.

“What do you make of that?” she asked.

“My first question is, who the hell is ‘James?’”

“An accomplice of some sort,” Burk said. “At least now we know he is not working alone. My guess is, James is another assassin or a fellow Ranger who served with Rainhorse—someone he trusts.”

“Just because this character ‘James’ is in Seattle doesn’t mean Rainhorse is,” Burk noted.

“True, but we work with what we have.”