Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

would take too much time to go through all the hurdles. Besides, I have no idea who’s involved. I had no idea Nathan Broederlam was involved, and I worked with him on a daily basis. Like you said before, we need proof.
    “Danny, I know I sound like I’ve gone completely mad, but I’ve studied these events. The United States is finally in a position with its unimaginable debt load for the Bilderbergers to strike and send your country, and the world, reeling into a financial freefall from which there is no recovery. If you must, check everything I have told you about Harold Wilson, Colin Tanner, the history of your Federal Reserve, and the U.S. financial records. Recorded history verifies everything. Like I said, history is not accidental. Everything is …”
    The look on Danny’s face made Sydney stop.
    “What? What is it, Danny?”
    Nothing’s accidental.
    It hit him like a kick in the face. He looked at the assault rifle in the backseat, the one the guard had dropped in the back of his truck at the cabin. He grabbed it and began disassembling it in record time. He started with the clip. Nothing. Then he moved on to the scope. He unhooked it from the gun and peered into the scope mounts. Nothing.
    Sydney stared at him like he was a madman. “What are you doing?”
    “A tracking bug. That’s how the guards keep finding us. There must be a bug in this gun.”
    Danny ripped the shoulder pad from the rifle’s butt. Still no bug. He eyed the two screws that held the butt together. Inside it would be the safest place for any foreign objects. Especially tiny sensors that needed to transmit a signal.
    “The toolbox I found underneath your seat. I need it,” Danny ordered.
    Sydney retrieved it and handed it to him. He cracked it open and found a flat-head screwdriver.
    Danny had the screws out in seconds. He pried the screwdriver into the butt’s seam and twisted. It popped open with a crack to reveal the treasure he was seeking.
    The tracking bug itself was no bigger than a nickel. Two wires led away from it to a lithium ion battery that resembled a credit card. Danny learned about these devices during his surveillance classes with the Texas Rangers. The bug was GPS enabled. It could be tracked via satellite anywhere in the world. The battery was the most advanced available and, once activated, could power the tiny bug for over a month. More than enough time to find the weapon and the person using it.
    Icy panic leaked into Danny’s body. They had been in this parking garage for at least ten minutes; plenty of time for their stalkers from the racquet club to find them here. The frigid feeling then flooded through him as his next thought entered his mind.
    The parking garage has no way out other than the way in . They were trapped.

Chapter 43
    Taber looked up and saw that there were only a few floors left before the top. I’m getting warmer , he thought as his grip tightened on the rifle. He slowed the vehicle to a crawl before approaching the turn that would take him to the seventh level of parked cars. As he did on the previous levels, Taber looked into the fish-eye mirror fixed high on the garage’s outer wall. No cars were coming down the ramp toward him. There were no bodies in motion either. Still, he made sure the tip of his gun barrel was secured on the driver’s windowsill before stepping on the gas and ascending another floor.
    Taber spotted a gold Toyota Camry backed in between a Lexus sedan and an immense concrete support pillar. His stomach tightened, and he turned the rifle over so that the barrel was now facing the passenger door. He was ready, but the license plate wasn’t the same one that Taber remembered seeing at the club. He kept his foot on the gas and returned the rifle barrel to his windowsill.
    Taber rounded the next turn and began ascending the ramp to the eighth floor. They must be up here. His thoughts were confirmed as he gazed into the fish-eye mirror at the end of the ramp and he saw another gold Camry parked at the far end of the garage.
    As soon as he rounded the corner, he studied the license plate. It matched. There were only two other cars on the entire floor, and they were both parked next to the elevator.
    Taber pulled in between the two cars, turned in his seat, and stared at the Camry. If there was anyone inside it, he couldn’t see them through the tinted glass. He reached behind his seat again and felt his Glock 24 pistol. He quietly chambered a bullet and then