In the aerial footage captured by the news chopper, a raging fire blazed skyward amid clouds of smoke. One structure was completely engulfed in flames. Firefighters on the scene aimed jets of water at the inferno, trying to contain the spread. As the camera pulled back, more fire engines could be seen racing toward the scene, their sirens piercing the night.
JJ glanced at Jack, a hint of worry in her eyes, but he appeared calm, almost unconcerned.
While applying a fake mustache to his face, Jack said, "Have Danny swing by Queens and bring them back to Long Island. Those guys don't go down that easy. We're going to pay a visit to Marlo Burns—the operations director at New Dawn Technologies."
He didn't believe for a second that something as basic as a trap would take Reacher down.
Staten Island to New York was what Pudong once was to Shanghai—a former rural area turned urban sprawl. As the city expanded, property prices surged. While owning a luxury penthouse in Manhattan remained a status symbol, it was just as common for the wealthy to have a cozy weekend villa in Long Island or Staten Island.
Marlo Burns' home was one such villa, located in an affluent neighborhood. Two floors, easily three to four hundred square meters—far more than a single mom with a teenage daughter really needed.
"Second floor's clear!" Hannah called out loudly.
"Confirmed!"
Jack hadn't needed to use his lockpicking skills this time—he, JJ, and Hannah had circled the house and found the back door ajar.
They took their time searching the entire house, finding it completely empty—but something felt off.
It wasn't like the offices of Franz, Sanchez, or Orozco, where signs of forced entry and destruction were everywhere. The place was messy, yes, but in a lived-in way, not a ransacked one.
Jack took a look around the downstairs before heading upstairs with JJ. According to the file, Marlo Burns was 45, a single mother raising her 14-year-old daughter alone.
The layout and furnishings supported this. There were no signs of a man living there. The fridge door was covered with sweet mother-daughter photos. On the dining table, there were remnants of dinner—half a fruit salad, untouched utensils.
"They left in a hurry, but it doesn't look like a kidnapping. I'd say they left voluntarily," Hannah said from the upstairs hallway as she holstered her weapon. Behind her, a bedroom door was open.
"What makes you say that?" JJ followed her into the room, with Jack right behind them.
The bedroom was decorated in soft pink tones—obviously a teen girl's room. The walls were covered in anime and cartoon posters. At the foot of the bed was a dual-monitor computer setup.
"Kidnappers usually don't care about dental hygiene or period products," Hannah said, picking up a stray white bat-shaped pad wrapper from the bathroom floor and pointing at the empty toothbrush cup.
Jack tapped the spacebar on the keyboard, and the screen lit up—no password lock. A Steam page was still open.
He opened the game library and whistled. "A little 'Hannah' in the making."
Marlo Burns' daughter had a similar gaming taste—tons of popular first-person shooters and action games.
The girl's closet was open, clothes slightly disheveled. Jack figured there was no need for all three of them to crowd in one room, so he headed for the other bedroom at the end of the hall.
This was clearly Marlo's. It was spacious, split into a bedroom and a walk-in closet. Unlike the other rooms, this one was in visible disarray—heels and cocktail dresses scattered across the floor, like someone had packed in a rush.
The closet light was still on, and next to the door sat an open duffel bag.
"Ladies, you might want to come see this," Jack called, crouching next to the bag. Inside were stacks upon stacks of hundred-dollar bills.
"If this is her rainy day stash, it's a bit much," Hannah said, peering in. The bag wasn't full, but there had to be at least two or three million in cash.
Sure, Marlo was a top executive with a likely seven-figure salary, but who keeps that much cash at home—especially if they're running and not taking it with them?
JJ was distracted by the two boxes of jewelry on the nightstand. "These don't look like cheap knockoffs either. Why would anyone leave behind high-end jewelry and all that cash if they were trying to flee?"
Jack activated his internal deduction engine. "Judging by the dinner on the table, I'd say Marlo and her daughter left last night.
But our break-in at New Dawn Technologies happened around 1 a.m. If they were spooked by that, the timing doesn't line up.
Based on her email exchanges with Swann, I'm more inclined to believe Marlo was innocent. She probably sensed something off and placed Swann in the security division to investigate—and then got threatened."
"By who? Langston?" JJ asked, frowning. "He's just head of security. Isn't an illegal arms deal tied to terrorism a bit above his pay grade?"
"But if he's stealing from the inside, being head of security is perfect," Hannah reasoned. "A $65 million payday is tempting for anyone.
New Dawn's been doing well these past years. If the decision-makers were board members, they wouldn't need to risk this much for that kind of money."
It was a solid analysis—Hannah wasn't just blindly siding with Jack.
"In any case," Jack said, "we need to find out what kind of weapon they're trying to sell. The fact that they attacked us at the funeral means they realize the deal might fall apart—and they're getting desperate.
That means our plan is working. They haven't figured out that FBI and DHS are involved yet—they think it's just the special investigators."
"Alright, then it's up to Sherlock Holmes to uncover the truth," Hannah said playfully, giving Jack a peck on the cheek. "As for Marlo and her daughter, leave them to us."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You know how to find them?"
"Of course," Hannah said, slapping her chest confidently. "We'll check the license plate, credit card transactions—and her daughter's a gamer. I've got her account now. Tracking them down won't be hard."
Trace them through gaming activity? Jack hadn't thought of that. He gave her a thumbs-up.
"Alright, I'm counting on you two. Be careful. If anything goes wrong, call for backup. I'm going to find out what the hell 'Little Wing' really is."
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