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NSA Command Center
Cade dialed Stone’s phone number for the seventh time. “Uncle Bill, all it says is the caller is out of the service area, then it goes to voicemail.”
“Well, keep trying son,” Bill replied. “Knuckles, did you get anything off that recovered cell phone?”
Knuckles sat at his desk with a hand on the mouse and staring at the monitor. “Yes, sir.” The phone Stone found at the scene of the shooting incident at his apartment lay on the desk. Knuckles had disassembled the broken phone, and three wires were now connected to various internal components. “This is, this is bad,” the boy said.
“Spit it out son,” Bill said as he pressed his glasses to his face. But upon seeing the phone and its various parts splayed across the desk added, “Jesus, I didn’t look at it when it came
