CHAPTER 68
Tully ripped off the fax and began piecing the four sheets together. The Maryland Parks Commission had faxed an aerial view of Harding’s property. In black and white not much could be seen through the acres of treetops. The first thing Tully noticed was that, from above, the area looked like an island except for a sliver that connected it to the mainland. The property jutted out into the water with the Potomac River on two sides and a tributary river on the third.
“The SWAT team is assembled and ready to go,” Cunningham said as he entered the conference room. “Maryland State Patrol will meet you on the other side of the toll bridge. Are those any help?” He came around the table and looked at the map Tully had just finished taping together.
“Can’t see any buildings. Too many trees.”
Cunningham pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and bent down to examine the map. “From what I understand, the facility housing the generator is in the upper northwest corner.” He ran his index finger over the spot that resembled a black-and-gray mass. “I would think the house would need to be close by. Any idea how long Harding has lived here?”
“At least four years. Which means he’s settled and knows the area. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a bunker somewhere on the property.”
“That seems a bit paranoid, doesn’t it?” Cunningham raised his eyebrows.
“The guy was a recluse long before he and Stucky started their business. Some of the computer video games he sells are his own creations. The guy may be a computer genius, but he’s weirder than hell. A lot of the games are antigovernment, white supremacist garbage. He even has one called ‘Waco’s Revenge.’ Lots of Armageddon-type stuff, too. Probably sold truckloads of it in 1999, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s well prepared.”
“What are you saying, Agent Tully? You mean we might have more problems on our hands than busting a couple of serial killers? You think Harding may have an arsenal in there, or worse, have the property booby-trapped?”
“I don’t have any proof, sir. I just think we should be prepared.”
“But be prepared for what? A stand-off?”
“Anything. I’m just saying if Harding is as extreme as his games would suggest, he could freak out with the FBI showing up on his doorstep.”
“Wonderful.” Cunningham stretched his back and walked over to the bulletin board where Tully had tacked up printouts of Har-ding’s Web site next to photos of the crime scenes.
“When is Agent O’Dell scheduled to be here?”
Tully glanced at his watch. She was already a half hour late. He knew what Cunningham was thinking.
“She should be here any minute now, sir,” Tully said without indicating he thought that she might not show up. “I think we have everything we need. Is there anything I’m forgetting?”
“I want to brief the SWAT team. We should let them in on your suspicions,” Cunningham said, looking at his own watch now. “What time did Agent O’Dell leave D.C.?”
“I’m not really sure. Will they need any extra preparations?” He avoided his boss’s eyes, just in case he could see that Tully was stalling and changing the subject.
“No extra preparations. But it is important they know what they’re in for.”
When Tully looked up, Cunningham was staring at him with his brow furrowed.
“You’re sure Agent O’Dell is on her way here?”
“Of course, sir. Where else would she be headed?”
“Sorry, I’m late,” O’Dell came in as if on cue.
Tully restrained the deep sigh of relief he felt.
“You’re just in time,” he told her.
“I need a few minutes with the SWAT team, and then you’re on your way.” Cunningham headed out the room.
As soon as it was safe, Tully asked, “So how close to the toll bridge did you get before you turned back?”
O’Dell stared at him in surprise.
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Does Cunningham know?” Suddenly she seemed more angry than concerned.
“Why would I tell Cunningham?” He pretended to look wounded. “There are some secrets only partners should share.” He grabbed a bundle from the corner, handed her a bulletproof vest and waited for her at the door. “Coming?”