The Cipher

by Maldonado, Isabella

  Nina grimaced. “I’ll bet that made for some awkward family discussions for the ones who didn’t know.”

  “No doubt,” Buxton said. “After you called us, we researched Dr. Borr and his clinic. The children were supposed to represent some great leap forward for humankind according to Dr. Borr, but our field interviews and background checks revealed nothing unusual about the ones who were born through his program. Some were extremely bright and accomplished, but others lived ordinary lives and seemed to be . . . average.”

  Nina was fascinated by the implications. “Then Dr. Borr’s project didn’t guarantee anything. In fact, his own son admitted he hadn’t lived up to his father’s expectations.”

  “By the law of averages, a certain percentage of the population will fall above and below the mean IQ of one hundred,” Buxton said. “Among those who were interviewed, there was an artist, a dentist, some stay-at-home moms, a couple of professors, one actual rocket scientist, and a janitor.”

  Nina leaned against the headrest, processing the information as the van sped through the thickening traffic. “So now we have a killer, possibly with a high IQ, who believes he’s superior to everyone else?”

  Wade answered her. “If his parents told him about the clinic, then yes.”

  “Which makes him all the more dangerous,” Buxton said, putting words to the thoughts swirling in her mind. “Let’s meet first thing tomorrow in the briefing room.”

  “How are the other teams progressing, sir?” Nina asked, hopeful the task force had made progress on other fronts during their absence.

  “Crypto is still working on the poem,” Buxton said. “No breakthroughs yet. This isn’t a mathematical equation, an anagram, or a code, so it’s really not their bailiwick. You all should put your heads together on the drive back. Maybe you’ll come up with something.”

  She would make it her mission to figure out that stupid rhyme before they passed through the checkpoint at Quantico.

  “Did you get any photographs of Anna Grable, Agent Breck?” Buxton asked.

  “I got six before she caught me,” Breck said. “I’ll work them into the computer image we have, using predictive algorithms to further enhance it. By the time we arrive, we’ll have a better image to go with.”

  “Should we show it to Sorrentino?” Nina asked, anxious for progress.

  Wade answered immediately. “Not a good idea. I don’t trust him not to talk. He’s not above blackmailing someone if he recognizes the image or taking a bribe to lead us down the wrong path. I also don’t recommend showing it around the fight club. We all know what happened the last time we started sniffing around over there.”

  He didn’t have to mention Chandra Brown by name for everyone to get the message.

  Breck nodded her understanding. “The image should be good enough to help the team reviewing the fight club leads to eliminate some of them. I’ll shoot it over to them as soon as I’ve finalized it. I think this is the best we’re going to get.”

  Guilt swamped her. She had been so determined to pursue these leads, and now they had lost a whole day. She had to make up for it. “Sir, I’d like to DM him again.”

  She cringed inwardly at the thought of what he would say to her. His last messages had been crude and provocative. Now that he had shown the first minute of the video, he would taunt her relentlessly. But she had made up her mind that she would take whatever he dished out, as long as it got her one step closer to putting him behind bars for the rest of his miserable life.

  To her surprise, Buxton readily agreed. “I’ll have Cyber get him back online,” he said. “It’s been radio silence from him since the video, which is disturbing because it means he’s likely busy doing other things or he’s created new profiles we don’t know about yet.”

  “Unlikely,” Breck said. “If he created a new profile, he wouldn’t have his audience. His followers couldn’t find him unless he made it clear he had migrated over, and in that case, we’d find him too.”

  Kent weighed in. “I think he’s been active offline, which is not good for us. I say let Guerrera reach out, but go ahead and reactivate him tonight. He may do something to tip us off.”

  “Let’s hope something breaks,” Buxton said. “His deadline is coming at us like a freight train. We need something to throw him off track before it hits us square in the face.”

  Chapter 36

  Nina sank back in the van’s cushioned seat, grateful for Buxton’s generosity. Arranging for a driver and one of the Bureau’s nicest fleet vans provided the space and privacy they needed to move the investigation forward while in transit.

  “Let’s flesh out the profile,” Kent said to Wade. “We’ll have more to give the team working on the MMA fighters.”

  “We can be more definitive about his age now,” Wade said. “Based on the years the clinic was open for business, he’s between thirty-two and thirty-four years old.”

  Which meant the Cipher had been anywhere from twenty-one to twenty-three years old when he had attacked her eleven years ago. Had she really been his first victim? She kept her thoughts to herself, listening to the two profilers bounce ideas off each other.

  Kent flicked a glance at Breck, who was sitting beside him. “The computer-generated image from his DNA profile and Guerrera’s memory also tells us he’s a white male, approximately six feet tall, with fair skin and blue eyes. That would match his sister’s coloring.”

  “What’s the fastest way to narrow down Sorrentino’s list?” Nina cut in, anxious to move the discussion from theory to actionable information. “Any red meat for the task force to chew on?”

  Wade spoke quickly. “Once they eliminate everyone who’s not in the correct age range, doesn’t match the physical description, and wasn’t fighting during the attacks, they should look for a man who’s not in a stable relationship, is a loner, and has a job well below his capabilities despite his IQ.”

  Kent nodded. “His temper would prevent career advancement.”

  “He will be aggressive toward others in the club,” Wade continued. “Even in the locker room. He’s arrogant and lets everyone know he’s superior. He’ll also really get off on the crowd’s reactions. They should look up fan favorites.”

  “He had to keep a low profile when he was the Beltway Stalker,” Kent said. “So he probably fed off the spectators during his matches, but now that he’s changed his MO, he doesn’t have to hide anymore. The need for adulation has always been a part of his character, though.”

  “He needs adulation?” Nina said, curious about this aspect of her adversary. He had always seemed supremely confident to her.

  “Despite his arrogance and feeling of superiority, he’s deeply insecure,” Wade said. “Which makes him want to dominate everyone around him. Violence in the cage matches is a way for him to assert control over other men, but there is no socially acceptable way for him to physically dominate women.” He raised his brows. “And he feels a lot of anger toward females.”

  “Why?” She wondered what could have driven him to such rage.

  “He might have been rejected by girls beginning at a fairly young age, he may have watched his father abuse his mother and came to believe that’s how women should be treated, or his mother could have mistreated him.” Kent lifted a shoulder. “Whatever the family dynamics were, it’s safe to assume he had a dysfunctional relationship with either one or both adoptive parents.”

  Unable and unwilling to delve deep enough to empathize with a sadistic killer, she left the profilers to their skull digging. She sidled onto the bench seat next to Breck, who had already sent the updated computer-generated image to the task force and was munching her way through a bag of mixed nuts.

  She remembered her vow to get to the bottom of the rhyming clue before they arrived. “Can you pull up that poem? I’d like to see if anything we discovered today jars something loose.”

  “Sure.” Breck seemed happiest with her laptop up and running. She propped it open so Nina could
see and clicked an icon on the desktop.

  Nina read the verses again.

  IN SILENCE SHE WAITS, DAY AND NIGHT.

  LIVING WITH THE KEEPER OF THE LIGHT.

  SHE SEES THEM COME, SEES THEM GO.

  WHAT LIES IN HER HEART, NO ONE CAN KNOW.

  “Not exactly iambic pentameter,” Breck said.

  “The Crypto team said they thought the second line might refer to a lighthouse keeper,” Nina said, recalling their previous meeting. “Why don’t you google famous US lighthouses?”

  They both scanned a long list of structures from Washington’s Puget Sound to Florida’s Key West. The number of options was daunting.

  “Let’s start with the East Coast,” Nina suggested.

  A few more clicks still left them with scores of lighthouses to consider.

  Breck shook her head. “I feel like a bloodhound with a sinus infection trying to follow this trail of clues.”

  Nina privately agreed but decided to keep after it. “Can you pass me some of those nuts? I’m starving.”

  Breck handed her the bag. “I already ate all the pecans. They’re the only things in there worth having, far as I’m concerned.”

  “I’m not picky. Learned to eat whatever was put in front of me as a kid.” Going from home to home, sometimes not getting enough, had cured her of any fussiness about food.

  “Not me. I’d rather go hungry.”

  Nina figured only someone who had never experienced true hunger would say that.

  “Take this for example.” Breck held up a peanut. “People think I love peanuts because I’m from Georgia. One peanut farmer is elected president, and suddenly everyone from our state must be crazy for the damn things.” She let out a derisive snort. “Real southerners know the only way a peanut’s any good is if it’s boiled in the shell in salt water. Otherwise, eat the pecans first.”

  “I tried pecan pie once,” Nina said. “Can’t say I cared for it.”

  “Bless your heart,” Breck said. “You must have gotten your teeth into something from the freezer section at the grocery store.” She shuddered. “And it couldn’t have been a real pecan pie unless it came fresh from the oven and there was bourbon in it.”

  “Bourbon?”

  “That’s how they make it in Savannah, where I’m from. In fact, if you want to taste the best bourbon pecan pie, you’ve got to go to the Pirate’s House Restaurant next to the Savannah River, it’s . . .” Breck trailed off, mouth open, eyes wide. “Oh. My. Gawd.”

  Nina grabbed her arm. “What?”

  “Hold on a sec.” She typed furiously, then a huge smile crept across her rosy cheeks as she pushed the computer closer to Nina.

  A picture of a statue filled the screen. Nina studied the young lady and dog memorialized in bronze. The girl’s arms were above her head, holding something that looked like a flag billowing in the wind.

  “This has to be it,” Breck whispered. “Damn. My mama would never have forgiven me if I hadn’t come up with this.”

  “Come up with what?” Wade said. He and Kent had no doubt heard the excitement and were eager to hear what was going on.

  Breck looked up at them, green eyes bright. “This is a statue of Florence Martus, the Waving Girl.”

  Kent crossed his arms. “Pretend we’ve never heard of Florence Martus and loop us in.”

  Breck pointed at the first line of the poem as she explained. “For over forty years, Florence greeted every ship that came into the port of Savannah. In the day she waved a cloth in greeting, at night, she used a lantern.”

  Nina reread the opening.

  IN SILENCE SHE WAITS, DAY AND NIGHT.

  Breck’s finger moved to the second line. “She never married, and lived with her brother, who was the Elba Island lighthouse keeper.”

  LIVING WITH THE KEEPER OF THE LIGHT.

  Nina caught Breck’s enthusiasm as she skipped to the next part.

  SHE SEES THEM COME, SEES THEM GO.

  “Florence waved at ships whether they were coming into the harbor or setting out to sea,” Breck continued. “‘See’ is a homonym for sea.”

  “And the last line?” Nina asked as she read.

  WHAT LIES IN HER HEART, NO ONE CAN KNOW.

  Breck’s smile grew wider. “Legend has it that Florence never married because she fell in love with a sailor who promised to come back for her someday, but never did. No one knows if there’s any truth to that, though.”

  “What lies in her heart, no one can know,” Nina said. “It all fits.”

  “Let’s contact the task force,” Wade said. “We need someone from the Savannah field office to get over to that statue pronto.” He tugged his phone from his pocket and handed it to Breck, allowing her to take the credit.

  “I’ll call Savannah now,” Buxton said over the phone’s speaker after hearing her rapid-fire explanation. “We’ll have an answer shortly. I’ll get back to you right away.”

  They batted ideas back and forth while they waited, trying to figure out how the Cipher could have gotten from Boston to Savannah so quickly. They concluded that he would have had to fly. As they were debating the best way to track down possible flights and airports, the phone buzzed.

  “Wade here.”

  Buxton’s voice betrayed his excitement. “Bingo.”

  The single word gave Nina more hope than she’d felt in days. “What did they find?”

  “I sent a JPEG to Agent Breck’s email,” Buxton said. “It was on a sheet of standard office paper sealed in an envelope taped underneath the statue’s platform. The local ERT is processing it for forensic evidence as we speak. In the meantime, they made a copy for us to examine.”

  Breck clicked open the FBI’s private server and opened the file in her email. “Got it.” She zoomed in.

  Nina took in the magnified image. A square consisting of a fragmented mosaic of jagged lines with sharp angles filled the top portion of the card. Each segmented space contained printed numbers.

  “The cryptanalysts think it contains a hidden picture,” Buxton said. “They’re working on it now, but you’re welcome to try your luck on the rest of the drive.”

  “Unlike the poem, this looks like it involves math, so they’ll likely be quicker at solving it,” Breck said, disappointment evident in her tone. “Every shape inside the lines has a different number in it.”

  “And there are hundreds of numbers,” Buxton said.

  “We’ll work on it until we get there, which will be in about another hour,” Nina said.

  “As Agent Breck pointed out, this looks like more of a problem for the cryptanalysts.” Buxton’s tone brooked no argument. “You all have done enough for one day. I’ll see you at the morning briefing tomorrow. I want all of you rested and on your game.” He paused. “And one more thing. Pack a fresh go-bag before you come in. You’ll be wheels up or on the road again the moment we crack the new code.”

  Chapter 37

  Nina had scaled the last flight of stairs to find Bianca waiting for her. Again. The girl must have a camera set up to monitor her assigned parking space in the lot. Nothing Bianca did would surprise her.

  She went through her usual routine of unlocking the door and deactivating the alarm before tossing her briefcase in the minuscule foyer, where it leaned against the wall. Bianca followed her inside.

  “All of the Cipher’s social media sites are back up again,” Bianca said without preamble. “Not smart, if you ask me.”

  Nina raised a brow. “I know you don’t like it, Bee, but we need the Cipher back online. Cyber Crime can shut him down again if they need to.”

  She’d checked the Cipher’s social media sites on the way to her apartment. He hadn’t posted the clue that would lead to the Waving Girl statue in Savannah yet. At least they were still ahead of the Scoobies so far.

  “Well, don’t blame me.” Bianca pushed the open laptop across Nina’s kitchen table to face her. “His Facebook leaderboard is getting more views than ever.”

&nbs
p; “Hold on.” Nina leaned forward, spotting something she hadn’t noticed before. “Why is the FBI on this list?”

  She remembered when Breck had first shown her the unsub’s ranking of the top five people or groups participating in his “game.” Julian Zarran still held the top spot, followed by Team FBI in second place and the Brew Crew in third. The Pink Wave had been replaced by the team that had previously been at the bottom.

  “I guess he wanted to include the feebs, so he gave you guys a name and slotted you in,” Bianca said.

  “And who is this in fourth place? A group of college students from GW. They call themselves the Dork Side.”

  Bianca glanced away. “No idea.”

  “Sounds like a name you and your friends would come up with.” Nina narrowed her eyes. “And, last time I checked, you go to George Washington University.”

  “Okay, fine.” Bianca threw up her hands. “It’s us.”

  “How did you get on his leaderboard?”

  “The Brew Crew did it by solving a clue, and Zarran did it by offering a reward,” Bianca said. “Everyone else on the list basically posted in his thread and retweeted with comments about how they were going to nail his ass.”

  Bianca might have an IQ in the vicinity of Einstein’s, but she was no match for a psychopath. “Leave him alone,” Nina said. “He’s—”

  A knock at the door interrupted before she could get into full rant mode. Cursing, Nina stood to open it.

  Mrs. Gomez held out a glass casserole dish filled with empanadas. “For you,” she said and marched inside past Nina.

  “Mrs. G, you really shouldn’t have. I’m not that hungry.” She glanced at the dish Mrs. Gomez had now placed in the center of the table. The aroma of meat marinated in adobo sauce was intoxicating. “And even if I were, that’s enough food for a family of ten.”

  “She cooks when she’s upset,” Bianca said. “She hasn’t left the kitchen since the video came out.”

  Mrs. Gomez gave Bianca a dark look but said nothing.

  “You may as well take it,” Bianca said. “She’s made something for everyone in the building.”