R osa M. dropped her dishrag as her eyes widened at the man filling her apartment doorway. It was the look on his face. She drew back, cowering.
“ No me haga dano.” Don’t hurt me.
“I’m not going to.” Gage flashed his ID. “I need some information.”
She nodded once. Slow, hesitant.
“It’s about a guy who stayed in room 527 of the Mariner Hotel a while back. A Texan.”
Rosa’s cheeks flushed.
“It’s not about that.”
G age called Casey as he drove away. “It’s somewhere South of Market. A warehouse. It was used as a marijuana grow room before it got busted by the DEA. She overheard Boots talking on the phone just before he checked out. She thought it was part of an investment deal he’d been offered. It has an inner plywood structure. Almost soundproof. Boots referred to it as cocoon. A perfect place to take a hostage. But she doesn’t know the address, or even the street.”
“We’ve already driven by a half-dozen warehouses. Nothing.”
“You have somebody in the DEA you can call to find out all the places they’ve raided?”
“I’ll have the information by the time we hook up.”
H ow many of these grows have there been in San Francisco?” Gage asked as he read Casey’s notes. They were parked under the freeway a block south of the California Supreme Court building.
“Dozens and dozens. The medical marijuana movement has been good for business.”
“How many are South of Market?”
“Eight that have been closed down in the last couple of months.”
“Map it out. I’ll drive.”
Gage climbed into the cab while Viz and Casey got into the back. Casey gave him the first stop and Gage headed south through the dark streets.
T hey hit six in the next forty minutes. They were nearly to the waterfront, four blocks from Gage’s office. And there were two left on the list.
“Maybe we missed it,” Viz said, lifting off his headphones. “I haven’t heard a thing. Maybe they found the device on Brandon.”
“We’re in big trouble if they did,” Gage said. “Joe, where’s next?”
“Near the Flower Mart on Brannan.”
Gage drove west from the bay, then south away from downtown. He hit Brannan Street just east of the deserted flower market, then drove farther west toward Gilbert. The commercial street was abandoned except for the generic homeless people curled up in doorways with their overfilled shopping carts parked next to them on the sidewalks. Gage slowed when he neared his turn, then crept along, searching the street, headset pressed tight against his ears.
Listening.