“And shutting me out.”
“Nothing personal. I’m just accustomed to working alone.” He glanced soberly at her. “But I appreciated the fact that you were here.”
“At your beck and call?”
“Why not?” He grinned. “Hey, what guy wouldn’t want to have a gorgeous woman to meet his every need? You shouldn’t complain. You’re the one who set it up.”
“Not every need,” she said dryly.
“Now you’re spoiling it. I was having fantasies of—”
“And those fantasies would last only as long as that agile brain of yours wasn’t occupied with those computers.” She looked around the office. “So tell me about your first and probably only real love.”
“Pretty special, huh.” Sam smiled proudly as he stepped back from his creation. “Yeah. If Colby makes contact again, I want to be ready.”
She looked at the large monitors. “When did you bring all this stuff in?”
“I didn’t, actually. I just brought in the laptops. I had them delivered and left on the doorstep.”
“That was what was in all those boxes?”
“Yeah, the rest was in the office closet. This guy Lynch must be a real techie.”
“You just helped yourself to his gear?”
“Sure, why not? Kendra told us to make ourselves at home.”
“Yes, she did,” Beth said warily. “And you certainly took her at her word.”
“Anyway, I’ll feel a lot safer in this place than I did the last time I reached out to Eric Colby.” Sam looked at the windows. “Check these out. Glass-clad polycarbonate, almost an inch thick.”
“Bulletproof?”
“And even bombproof, up to a point. I’ve done consulting work with foreign embassies that weren’t as secure as this place.”
“Who needs a house as secure as this?” Beth said.
“Someone who has really pissed off a lot of people.” Sam smiled. “My kind of guy. I hope I get a chance to meet him sometime.”
“When you do, you can explain to him why you appropriated about twenty thousand dollars’ worth of his gear.”
“All for the noblest of purposes.” Sam sat down at the large mahogany desk. “If it gets us one step closer to finding this monster, who would possibly object?”
“And how close are you?”
“I’m not certain. I’ve spent a lot of time setting up these network-traffic-analysis rigs. I think I’m ready to find out.”
“You are?”
“Yep, that’s why I invited you in for the show.” He met her eyes, suddenly grave. “I have to work alone, but that doesn’t mean I like it. I want you to know that … I’ve liked having you here. But this is the only part I can share. It’s all I can give you. If you want to accept it.”
“You sound like someone from Mission Impossible.” She smiled. “It is what it is. Of course I’ll accept it. That’s why I’m here.”
“Good.” His hand went to the power switch on Kendra’s computer. “Ready to give this a shot?”
Beth leaned forward and pushed his finger into the power button. “Oh, yes. Let’s get this asshole.”
The indicator lights on Kendra’s laptop came to life. Sam punched a button on the HDMI switcher, and the image from the laptop suddenly appeared on one of Lynch’s large-screen monitors.
Beth turned back to Sam. “How long will it take?”
“Depends on Colby. Last time, he made contact immediately. It leads me to believe that he has a computer on and waiting for this machine to come online. At least he did then. If that’s still true, it can only help us. It’s hard to scan the Web like that without leaving some kind of footprint. This time, I’m looking for any sign that his computer is out there looking for us.”
“And once it has found us?”
“I’ll immediately start tracing the data packets. And if we hit a relay center, I’m ready to start analyzing data traffic patterns from the other side to figure out where it’s coming from. He may be smart enough to route himself through several relay centers, but I’m smarter.”
Beth nodded. “Not that I doubt you … But doesn’t the government have entire buildings full of people who do this sort of thing?”
Sam checked one of the monitors. “Yes. And they hire me whenever they fall on their asses.”
“Good Lord, what arrogance.”
“No, I’m merely supremely sure of myself.”
Beth laughed. “And unapologetically.”
“Why apologize? For being aware that I’m the best at what I do?”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can swagger while sitting down.”
“Another one of my many talents.”
She glanced over at him: “So tell me … Who do they call when you fall on your ass?”
“Hmm. Can’t say, because it’s never happened. I guess they would just call a priest since the situation would clearly be hopeless.”
“Clearly.”
Sam suddenly leaned forward. “We’ve made contact.”
Beth tensed. “Can he see and hear us?”
“Not unless we want him to. I’ve muted the laptop’s microphone and camera. Of course, he may not even be there. Just because his computer is on, that doesn’t mean that he—”
“Greetings, Sam.” That mocking whisper again.
“That’s him,” Sam said.
“I assume it is you, Sam. You’re being very rude, not allowing me to see and hear you.”
Sam pushed a keyboard combination that opened the microphone. “Of course you can hear me.”
“Ah. Good. I trust you gave Kendra my message?”
“I did.”
“Fine. Then your part of this is done. I have no further use for you. I must speak to Kendra directly.”
“What makes you think she wants to speak to you?”
“Is she there?”
“No.”
“Too bad. You’re wasting time. The clock has started.”
“The clock on what?”
The screen flickered, and, suddenly, an image appeared.
Beth leaned close to get a better look. Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God.”
* * *
KENDRA’S PHONE RANG, AND SHE barely had time to punch the TALK button when she heard Beth on the line, her voice shaking.
“Kendra, open your e-mail now, you hear me? Now! Sam just sent you a link.”
“A link? Beth, what’s happening?”
“Just do it. Hurry!”
Kendra had already grabbed her tablet computer and opened her e-mail. Three button presses later, she was staring at what appeared to be a live video feed that chilled her to the core.
Detective Martin Stokes, bruised and bloody, tied to a table. His eyes were wide with fear as he looked at something beyond the range of the camera.
And she had a terrible feeling she knew who he was looking at.
“Kendra, do you see it?”
She couldn’t take her eyes from the screen. “Yes.”
Sam’s voice suddenly cut in. “Kendra, I’m forwarding this to you through my server. I’ve also sent viewing links to Michael Griffin at the FBI and the San Diego Superintendent of Police. Colby is refusing to talk to anybody but you.”
“Can … he hear me?”
“I’m going to try and enable two-way communication in three … two … one … now!”
She spoke into her tablet. “Colby … It’s me. It’s Kendra Michaels. I’m the one you want, not him.”
Silence. Only Stokes’s labored breathing.
Sam had rigged this on the fly, so it was entirely possible that his attempt to provide a two-way communication link was going to be a—
“Hello, Kendra. What a delight it is to be here with you again.”
She went still. It was the first time she’d heard Colby’s voice since that terrifying morning at San Quentin.
She had hoped never to hear that voice again.
The picture on her screen hadn’t
changed. Stokes was shirtless and bleeding, tied to what appeared to be an embalming table. “Colby, this is about you and me. You have my attention now. That man has nothing to do with this. He’s a cop. He didn’t even believe you were still alive.”
A long pause.
What was he thinking? Was she making any impact at all?
He finally replied. “To the contrary, Kendra. He has everything to do with this. He disrespected us both when he refused to listen to you about me. He’s now paying the price.”
“Of course he didn’t listen to me, Colby. You were too smart, and you covered your tracks too well. The whole world believed you were dead.”
“You didn’t believe it, Kendra, even though you wanted to believe it more than anyone on Earth.”
“I’ve met a few dozen victims’ family members who wanted to believe it more.”
“Possibly. But after today, there will be no doubts, Kendra. This is my gift to you. The whole world will know how right you were. I could have just vanished and let you twist in the wind, espousing your ridiculous theory…”
Kendra’s phone vibrated. She glanced down and saw a text from Sam. KEEP HIM TALKING. TRYING TO TRACK. FBI AND SDPD ARE IN THE LOOP.
She looked back up. “Don’t pretend this is for anyone but you. You enjoyed the hell out of the fact that no one believed me.”
“For a little while. But it annoyed me that Stokes couldn’t see that such complex planning and clean execution could only originate in a mind like mine. So it’s for both of us. I’ve been planning this for a long time.”
“Whatever you planned, it didn’t involve this man. Or Sheila Hunter. You didn’t know them two weeks ago. Stokes can’t possibly matter to you.”
“Then should I kill him right now?”
“No! You’ve made your point.”
The screen went black for a moment, then came back. Colby suddenly entered the frame and stepped behind the table. He appeared slightly more muscular than she remembered, and his hair now covered his ears. But his blue eyes were as striking as ever, and his small teeth still gave his angular face a feral quality.
“Only partially.” He looked down into Stokes’s face. “But he’s seen the error of his ways in one important aspect. Admit your mistake, Stokes. Am I still alive?”
Stokes’s expression was a mask of anger and terror. “Yes, you bastard, you’re alive.”
“Excellent.” Colby spoke to the camera. “I invite you all to watch as I apply one cut to Detective Stokes’s body each five minutes. In exactly one hour, he will die.”
“What will that prove?” Kendra voice was strained, frantic. “Don’t do it, Colby!”
Colby didn’t acknowledge her outburst.
He paused, raised his knife, and stabbed Stokes in the stomach.
Stokes screamed.
Then, as the detective gasped and wheezed with pain, Colby stepped out of the frame.
Kendra stared at the screen, stunned and horrified at what she had just seen.
Then she picked up her phone. “Sam, you saw that?” She had to steady her voice. “He meant it. You have to find him. Stokes will die if you don’t.”
“No pressure,” he said hoarsely.
“Of course there’s pressure. Do you think I want to put you in that position? If I could do it myself, I would. But it’s you, and I can’t help—”
“It’s okay,” Sam interrupted. “I’ve done some of my most brilliant work under unbelievable pressure. I’ll just see that this is one of those times.”
Good. Stokes needed Sam’s hubris right now. It might be his only chance.
Beth cut in, “Sam just tossed me the phone. Literally. He’s working like crazy. I never thought fingers could move across a keyboard that fast.”
“Any luck?”
“Some. He traced the data stream to one relay center, and he’s working on another.”
“And you did say Griffin is clued in.”
“Yes, Sam was in touch while you were talking to Colby. I think the entire FBI office is watching that feed. SDPD, too.”
“Good.”
FBI Field Office
San Diego
GRIFFIN STEPPED OUTSIDE HIS office, where the agents and support personnel were standing around the television monitors. They had just watched Colby plunge his knife into Stokes. The bleeding, shirtless detective was now having difficulty breathing.
The agents slowly turned toward Griffin and away from that hideous picture.
“Stop just standing there. If one more person looks at me with that dumb look on their face, they’re fired. You saw it with your own eyes. Eric Colby is alive.”
Special Agent Roland Metcalf practically sprinted from his cubicle. He definitely did not have a dumb look on his face. “Who’s the hostage?”
“Martin Stokes, SDPD Homicide. He was working the marina murder.” Griffin spoke to the other agents as they gathered around. “I’ve just mobilized the Critical Incident Response Group. We may have a fix on his location within minutes, but we can’t count on that. Your analysis of this video must begin now. You heard him. Colby has threatened to murder Stokes within the hour.”
Metcalf shook his head, and said slowly, “Then Kendra Michaels was right.”
“I’ve been close to believing that ever since she produced those trophies. Now there’s no doubt. Metcalf, I need you to organize backup for the CIRG team. If we get the word, we’ll need to fly out of here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Griffin and Metcalf had just begun to coordinate duty assignments when a hush fell over the room.
They turned to see that Colby had stepped back on-screen, still brandishing his large knife. He spoke to the camera. “Fifty-five minutes.”
He jabbed Stokes’s left side with the knife, and blood spurted as he withdrew it.
CHAPTER 12
SHEER RAGE COURSED THROUGH KENDRA’S veins as she watched Colby’s self-satisfied expression on-screen. Stokes writhed in pain, almost appearing to pass out at one point.
She turned from her tablet and activated the speakerphone function. She was hurriedly pulling on her leather jacket.
“Tell me that you have something for me, Sam.”
“Just a few more seconds…”
“Stokes is running out of time.”
“Colby has run through three different relay centers, and one of them is particularly good at safeguarding its clients’ privacy.”
“How good?”
Kendra heard a barrage of rapid-fire keyboard clicks, then nothing.
“Sam?”
“Not good enough. I just got it. It comes back to a local IP address, right here in San Diego.”
“Where?”
Sam cursed. “It’s a customer of a small Internet provider on the east side, Rocketstream.”
“Do you have a street address?”
“It doesn’t work that way. Only Rocketstream knows which IP address is being used by which customers. They happen to be one of the providers who won’t release that information without a court order. Normally, I’d commend them for that, but now I—”
“Court order. Surely, considering the circumstances, they’d be willing to—”
“We don’t have time to find out. By the time someone talks to a supervisor and supervisor’s supervisor, it could be too late for Stokes.” More clicking computer keys. “Their service area is in the Adams North neighborhood. “Get the police, your FBI buddies, the cavalry, anyone you can find, and get them over there. I’m going to break about half a dozen laws and hack into Rocketstream’s customer database.”
“How long will that take?”
“By the time you and the cavalry get over there, hopefully I’ll have an address for you.” More rapid clicks of the keys. “Go!”
North Mountain View Drive
San Diego
AS KENDRA TURNED ONTO the street that ran alongside Mountain View Park, she spotted the two brown vans that transported the FBI Critical Issue Response Group.
A dozen squad cars were also on the scene, flashers on, and obviously awaiting orders.
As she was doing, she thought desperately.
Come on, Sam …
Griffin was standing out in the street, coordinating with the San Diego PD SWAT team commander. Kendra skidded to a stop and jumped out of her car.
Griffin moved toward her. “Still waiting for that address.”
“From your end or mine?”
“Officially, mine. Your source was right, Rocketstream Internet is requiring a court order. But if you can provide the street address while we work on that, I won’t worry too much about how you obtained it.”
Kendra held up her phone. “I have an open line to Sam Zackoff. So far he—”
“I’m going to forget I heard that name, just in case he’s now doing something terribly illegal. But I did appreciate his forwarding me the feed that Colby is sending out.”
“He’s forwarding it from my laptop.” She added bitterly, “It’s a gift from Colby. You know, the man no one believed was still alive.”
“They believe it now. And, trust me, this has already changed how a lot of people think of you.”
“I don’t give a damn about that. I just want to get Stokes back. What’s his status?”
Griffin cocked his head over at one of the squad cars, where several detectives had gathered around an iPad.
“That sicko is appearing every five minutes like clockwork to stick him with that hunting knife. Stokes is hanging on, though. He’s one tough hombre.”
Griffin turned and strode away to speak to the members of his critical-response team.
Kendra grabbed the tablet computer from her car’s seat and adjusted the brightness to compensate for the outdoor viewing conditions. She looked at Colby’s horror show, and her shaking hands tightened on the tablet. Stokes was tough, but he was now a bloody mess and obviously weaker than he’d been only a few minutes before.
Hang on, Stokes …
We’re trying so hard.
His mouth twitched. He appeared to be trying to say something.
She reached into her console and pulled out a pair of earphones. She stuffed the rubber tips into her ears and plugged them into her tablet.
The Naked Eye Page 19
