Wired - Douglas E. Richards [113]
Desh crept to the side of the outermost barn and peered inside. The second guard was seated with his back to him, at a large bank of twelve monitors, twenty yards away. Desh glided forward noiselessly with his gun extended, rapidly closing the distance between them. He was able to get to within five feet of the man before he began to spin around, startled. Desh shot him in the thigh and he slumped in his chair, unconscious.
Desh studied the monitors to confirm the other security guard hadn’t moved from his position near the large horse pen, and plotted his approach. He exited the barn and circled around the property so he could come up behind the second guard. Once he had a bead on the man, he stalked him for several minutes, gradually working his way closer. He silently covered the last few feet and fired. This time the guard hadn’t had any warning at all and melted to the ground as the tranquilizer took immediate effect.
Desh pulled out his binoculars and surveyed the area. Everything looked to be in order. He double-timed it to where Metzger could see him and signaled for the rest of the group to join him. Minutes later they were at the back of the house. Desh chose a suitable window and shattered it with the back of his submachine gun, using the weapon to quickly clear away the jagged glass remaining around the perimeter of the sill. All four intruders climbed through the window one at a time until they were all safely inside the residence.
45
Putnam’s house was large, about 5,000 square feet. The front door opened into a living room on the left and a glass enclosed study on the right. The kitchen was spacious, with large stainless steel appliances, blue granite countertops, and a large cooking island in its center. The interior of the house was in direct contrast to its simple, rustic exterior, and managed to clash atrociously even with itself. While all of the furniture was a minimalist, ultra-modern steel, glass, and silver, the rest of the interior was reminiscent of a European palace, with crystal chandeliers and baroque oil paintings displayed in elaborate, carved wooden frames.
It was 8:30 and they still hadn’t heard the three telltale tones that would tell them that Putnam had reset the device that threatened Kira Miller, providing a twelve-hour stay of execution. No one had brought it up, but it was weighing on all of their minds.
Griffin sat at the computer in Putnam’s study and called up several screens. The rest of the team stood behind him, eagerly looking over his shoulder. “This might take a while,” he said after a few minutes. “I have to break through security and then try to find a needle in a haystack. That’s presupposing Putnam left any evidence on this computer in the first place.” He sighed. “And I’ll be trying this the old fashioned way. As much as I’d like to become a hotrodding God of a hacker again, I’m not sure I’m up to it yet. It takes a lot out of you.”
“No question about it,” said Desh.
“If I haven’t made solid progress by one or two this afternoon,” said Griffin earnestly, “I’ll take another gellcap and go to town.”
Desh nodded but wasn’t certain he liked the idea. The antisocial effect was cumulative and Griffin hadn’t handled his altered state well the first time.
Griffin bent to work on the keyboard while the three armed members of the team conducted a systematic search of Putnam’s home, looking for any clues or information that might prove useful. After forty minutes of searching, Desh activated the small microphone dangling from a cord running down his neck and checked in with Connelly in the RV. The colonel reported that all was well, and that he had not observed