Ms. Okafor was quiet for a moment, and Daniel could hear her reassessing him β from difficult heir to something else. "Mr. Mercer, is everything all right?"
"No," Daniel said honestly. "But it's going to be. Can we do Thursday? Same time?"
"Thursday at nine. And Mr. Mercer β" she hesitated. "Be careful."
He hung up and sat in the red-blinking silence of his office. His cell hadn't rung at nine-oh-five. He'd been on Frank's porch at nine-oh-five, phone in his pocket, full signal. Someone had intercepted the call to his cell.
That changed everything. That meant the tap on the pole wasn't the whole operation. They had his cell number. They had β what? A SS7 intercept? A SIM swap in progress? He checked his signal, his carrier settings, everything he could think of. His cybersecurity training was screaming at him now, fully awake.
He went back to Frank's porch. Frank was still there, whittling something with a pocket knife.
"She tried my cell at nine-oh-five," Daniel said. "It never rang."
Frank stopped whittling. "You're sure?"
"Full signal. Phone in my pocket. No missed call, no voicemail." Daniel sat down hard. "They didn't just tap my fiber, Frank. They're in my mobile too. Or they were blocking β"
"Or," Frank said quietly, "they were standing close enough to grab it."
Daniel stared at him. "What?"
"These rigs have a cellular module, you saw it. What if it's not just for exfiltration? What if it's a femtocell β a fake tower? Park the van on the street, your phone connects to the strongest signal, which is them. They can block calls, redirect calls, read texts." Frank set down the knife. "That's why the rig was worth more than your car, like you said. It's not a tap. It's a whole intercept station."
Daniel's mind raced. A rogue femtocell β an IMSI catcher, a Stingray-type device β parked in a van on Sycamore Lane. That explained the money. That explained eleven days. That explained how they'd planned to not just spoof the law firm's call but actually intercept the real one and substitute their own in real time.
"Frank," Daniel said, "we need to call Detective Alvarez. Right now. This isn't just fraud anymore. If they've got a fake cell tower on this street β"
"I called her," Frank said. "While you were inside. She's coming over."
As if on cue, an unmarked sedan pulled up in front of Frank's house. A woman in her forties got out β sharp blazer, tired eyes, the walk of someone who'd been carrying too many cases for too long.
"Which one of you is Delaney?" she called.
Frank stood. "That's me, Detective. This is Daniel Mercer β the Tuesday morning hit."
Detective Rosa Alvarez looked at Daniel, then at the black device on the porch table, then back at Frank. "You pulled another one."
"Off his pole. Four AM."
She picked up the device, turned it over, and her expression changed β the tiredness lifting, replaced by something alert and hungry. "Where exactly?"
"Pole behind his house. Third one this month."
"Mr. Delaney," Alvarez said, "two weeks ago you brought me a rig and I told you we'd look into it. I owe you an apology. This β" she held up the device β "this just became the biggest case on my desk."
5
Detective Alvarez took the device, Frank's camera, and both of their statements. She photographed the severed cables at Daniel's junction box β "for the vandalism report," she said with a look at Frank that was equal parts disapproval and gratitude β and she told them, in the careful language of someone choosing her words for the record, that the FBI had a task force on exactly this kind of operation.
"How big?" Daniel asked.
"Bigger than the county," Alvarez said. "We've got forty victims across three counties, about $1.2 million total. The hospital scam, the grandparent scam β those are the small plays. What you're describing, Mr. Mercer β the long collection, the law firm intercept, the fake tower β that's new. That's escalation." She looked at Frank. "You said six houses on this street?"
"That I've found rigs on. There may be more I haven't found."
Alvarez made a note. "I'm going to need you to walk my techs through every pole you've checked. And Mr. Delaney β" she fixed him with a look β "no more pulling rigs. No more cutting lines. I know you think you're helping, but you're contaminating evidence."
Frank's jaw worked. "The Hendersons lost forty thousand while you were processing evidence."
"I know," Alvarez said quietly. "And I'm sorry. But from here on, we do this my way."
After she left β promising a tech team that afternoon and a patrol car on the street that night β Daniel and Frank sat on the porch in silence. The morning had burned off into a bright, ordinary late morning. A lawnmower droned somewhere. It was absurd how normal the street looked.