The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (read any book txt) 📕

line, computer modem/router, and two-way radios. With all those communication systems, plus cell phones, they should always be able to always communicate with the outside world. Fiberscope cameras had been installed inside the apartment, along the outside walkway, and above the rear windows to view the parking area and garages. He checked the closet. As requested, someone from the department had prepositioned a small arsenal. With reinforced interior walls, the bedroom could serve as an adequate safe room.

Secrecy was still their best protection, and they had been careful enough that no one should know they were back in town. The private jet allowed them to fly incognito into the Santa Barbara Airport. They had paid a taxi in cash to drop them at the Santa Barbara Biltmore Resort. From there, they used a pre-positioned rental car to drive to Hope Ranch. Evarts spotted no one surveilling the resort or following their rental.

He had never flown private before. It was a different world. You just pulled right up to the plane whenever you wanted, bypassing airport security. The plane departed whenever you told the pilot you were ready to go. No waiting, no jostling, no lost luggage. Comfortable seats with plenty of leg room, good food, top notch liquor, topped off with a sense of being special. Evarts told himself not to get used to this extravagance. Despite his wealth, private jets somehow violated his middle class upbringing.

While Evarts had been checking apartment security, Baldwin had been surveying the kitchen and supply cabinets.

“We have staples like coffee, liqueur, paper products, canned goods, and frozen foods, but the refrigerator is practically empty. Just condiments. There’s nothing in this place that could go bad. What should we do? Shop or order delivery?”

The officers who stocked the apartment, had no idea when they would return, so they bought nothing spoilable. Baldwin’s question was interesting. What was the greater risk? Being seen in a supermarket or a delivery person recognizing them? They were both well-known residents with important positions in the community. They could drive to Oxnard and shop anonymously with false identification and credit cards. Evarts decided delivery would be less risky. Besides, he was tired.

“Delivery. Do we have enough for tonight?”

“If you can make do with a frozen meal.”

“Let’s put it off. Mañana?” When she nodded, he asked, “Can you unpack us? I’d like to call Standish to find out what she’s discovered.”

“Sure, but don’t let her know we’re in town.”

“I won’t. If there’s no bad news, I’m going to work on Monday.”

She nodded with a worried look on her face.

Evarts pulled out a burner cell phone and punched the direct line to Standish’s basement empire.

When she answered with a mere hello, Evarts said, “Good afternoon, Commander. Any news?”

“Where are you?”

“Away.”

“Good. Stay gone. We’re surveilling two suspicious teams that arrived yesterday. They’ve been cruising your home and our police station. Probably want to put an eye on you for another assault. They’re Egyptian nationals.”

“How did you identify them?”

“A detective was walking around the block having a smoke. He spotted a rental car cruising the station unusually slow. Two rubbernecking male passengers. When they returned in about fifteen minutes, he grew suspicious, so we put a tail on them. They made a continuous loop between the station and your house. The first team was relieved by another pair after a few hours.”

“Do you know where they’re staying?”

“Yes, sir. We tailed the first pair back to the Holiday Inn Express on the north end of town. We have both pair under surveillance.”

“Excellent work,” Evarts said. “Get a court order to—”

“Done,” Standish interrupted. “The rooms are wired for sound and video.”

“Nice work.”

“Not necessarily. So far, all we’ve gotten is four men enjoying a romp in Western depravity.”

Evarts laughed. “Understood.”

“Chief, one more thing, the mayor has a message. She wants you to make yourself scarce. Seems the natives are restless due to all the shootings in our fair city. She doesn’t want another incident.”

“She’d rather have terrorists roaming her streets?”

“Perhaps … we’re under strict orders to observe only. She doesn’t want them provoked.”

“Yeah, if they were to take shots at my wife or me, that would be entirely our fault.”

“Understood.” Her tone was sympathetic. “I have other information for you. Research and investigative information.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“Nothing earth shattering. If you want, it can wait until your return.”

“If the mayor has her way, that may be a long time. Go ahead.”

“First, we learned nothing from the men we arrested after the last assault. They talked freely but knew next to nothing.”

“Jim Lewis already told us that would be the case. By the way, he was killed by a sniper in New York City.”

“What the hell?” Standish exclaimed. “Who?”

“Not a clue. What else have you got?”

“First, the three who committed suicide had served in special forces. Good military records. Nothing that would indicate that on discharge they would pursue a career in crime. All Freemasons, and each employed by a different company. Here’s where it gets interesting. All their firms were owned by another outfit called Black & White Enterprises, headquartered in Edinburgh.”

She paused to get his reaction, so he told her what she already knew. “Masonic lodges use a black and white tile pattern on the floor of their halls.”

“Correct. Black & White Enterprises is privately held, but they have an advisory board much like a board of directors. Every director is a mason. The enterprise owns at least twenty corporations spread across the globe. All successful, all in basic commodities like metals, plastics, papers, and essential industrial supplies. Nothing sexy, nothing noteworthy. But we discovered—almost by accident—that Black & White is owned by a prominent New York hedge fund. Now, for the really interesting part, that hedge fund manages nearly two billion dollars for a family in Scotland who are members of a very wealthy clan; a clan that keeps an extraordinarily low profile. The clan invests primarily outside of Scotland through a myriad of trusts, private companies, and hedge funds. Other than a few pristine historic