Eyes of the Innocent

by Christopher Wright

  Chapter 20

  Driving back to Alexandria, the large police cruiser that had bothered them earlier passed them again, going in the opposite direction. No siren, no flashing lights, but Matt reckoned the police were keeping an eye on them. This would make his plan even more difficult.

  The model shop was closed, but Matt could see a light at the back and somebody moving about. "If the guy who keeps his place is anything like Mac the Hack, he'll probably be fiddling around with bits and pieces until the early hours."

  "Mac the Hack makes models?"

  "No, but Mac can't leave his computers and seriously illegal programs alone. At night he can get on with whatever he wants to do, without people like Ken disturbing him with trivial computer problems."

  "And now you are going to disturb this man when he is getting on with whatever he wants to do?"

  Matt drove into a side street where a passing cruiser was unlikely to spot the rental car. He had the feeling, anyway, that he was being a bit too paranoid about this.

  The shop window had an assortment of model cars and planes in an untidy arrangement. Matt took this as a good sign. The owner was likely to be a guy who was more interested in making models than selling them.

  His first knock on the door brought no response. "You try, Zoé. He'll probably open up to an attractive woman. I would." He thought about what he'd just said. "I mean, I would open up to you. Not to any other pretty woman. If you see what I mean."

  He realized he was wasting his breath with this rambling explanation. Zoé was already hammering loudly on the door. Matt stood to one side while a man cupped his hands against the glass and stared out at Zoé.

  "It is the business most urgent," Zoé called through the door, clearly unwilling to share any details at this stage.

  The scruffily dressed man opened the door on the chain. Matt felt even more confident now, assuming they got inside the shop. The man might indeed be another Mac the Hack, who would take on any challenge just to prove how good he was.

  Matt stepped forward, showing his hands. "I'm a private detective. A private eye. And we need urgent help on a surveillance job. From what I can see in the window, you're just the person to help us."

  Whether it was the look of desperation on Zoé's face, or the challenge of work, the man slipped the chain and let them into the shop, locking the door behind them. The man introduced himself as Pete.

  "So what is this urgent surveillance job?" Pete seemed unable to hide a look of eager anticipation.

  "We want to hire, rent, a model plane that can carry a camera."

  "Is this job legal?"

  Matt shrugged. "Probably not." He detected a look of uncertainty on Pete's face. This wasn't looking so good after all.

  "Sorry, I don't do illegal."

  "It is our baby," Zoé said.

  "Sorry, lady. No babies here. You've got the wrong place."

  Zoé wasn't to be put off. "He has been kidnapped, and we think Senator Cyrus Harding has taken him."

  "Senator Harding! That----" He broke into a sequence of expletives that made even Matt feel uncomfortable. "Go on, lady, tell me more. I might be interested in helping."

  Matt let Zoé tell the story. Coming from a distraught mother it might be the tipping point, although a carrot didn't seem necessary. Clearly Senator Cyrus B. Harding was not Pete's favorite person.

  Pete listened closely, nodding at times, with the occasional hard smile on his lips. "So where do I come in, lady?"

  Zoé turned to Matt. "Let my husband tell you. It is his idea. And we are desperate."

  Matt decided to be cautious. "I'm being absolutely open with you, Pete. If you can't help us, I don't want you running off to the police."

  Pete gave a hollow laugh. "Not much chance of that, with my record."

  Once again Matt felt confident, providing this man had the kit. "Okay, we need a model plane with a camera pointing straight down. We want to fly over Senator Harding's garden."

  Pete frowned. "You mean his back yard?"

  "Does that include a lawn and flower beds?"

  Pete laughed at Matt's question. "Of course it does."

  Matt shrugged. "To me, a yard has flagstones, not grass and beds. Anyway, there's a grave that's only just been dug, presumably in the lawn or flower beds. And we think they're going to bury our baby. Dead or alive."

  Pete took a sharp intake of breath. "Hey man, that's really scary."

  "Certainly is. A baby's casket was delivered this afternoon. We phoned the funeral parlor and they said it's for a dog. Could be, I suppose. We only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it was a very fancy coffin ... casket ... you know what I mean."

  Pete looked puzzled. "I might be able to fix us up with a plane and lightweight camera. It won't be able to fly around over the house all day waiting to see what happens. And we wouldn't be able to monitor the pictures. I can't do CCTV."

  Matt felt encouraged by the use of "us" and "we". "Just one pass over the house and yard should do it. Providing the camera has good resolution. Oh, and a wide-angle lens."

  Pete, the American version of Mac the Hack, gave a genuine smile. "Now you're talking sense. But no wide-angle lens. If we fly over low, they're gonna be more suspicious than if the plane flies over quite high. See what I mean? An ordinary lens will give just as good definition, but from higher up."

  It was time to tackle Pete over his inclusive word, we. "I get the impression you're going to be there with us."

  "Sure thing, man. This kit is expensive. Wouldn't trust it to anyone."

  Matt felt a great relief. The job wasn't going to be like flying model gliders with radio control on top of the Mount. "We'd better talk money before we start," he said.

  Pete sniggered. "Money? If we can dig some dirt on Senator Harding, I'll be paying you!"

  If Pete and the Senator had their differences, Matt wasn't going to enquire into what they were. This wasn't just promising, it was amazingly promising. At that moment his phone rang in his pocket. "Yes?" He wasn't going to reveal his identity until he knew who it was on the other end.

  "Simon here. Simon Urquet. I've been in touch with Stephen Valdieri. He clammed up as soon as I asked where you were. Where are you?"

  "You don't want to know, Simon. You really don't want to know."

  "You're under strict instructions from the police to stay in New York. Are you following up a lead?"

  "Simon, we'll probably be needing you soon to get us out of trouble. The less you know at this stage the better. We don't want you being party to what we're doing."

  "My official legal advice is that you stop what you're doing immediately. My personal feeling is to wish you good luck. Or as Zoé would put it, bon chance."

  "Thanks, Simon, I'll tell her. And if you can put another thousand dollars into my bank account, it might come in handy for what we're doing."

  "You realize that putting money into your account will be condoning whatever offence you're committing."

  "You can put your hand on your heart and swear to whoever wants to know, that I have assured you the money will be used for perfectly legal purposes." That sounded good, and would surely let Simon Urquet off the hook. The money for illegal purposes would be coming out of his own pocket.

  "I can guess what you're thinking," Simon said. "As devious as ever, I'm sure."

  "Did Stephen Valdieri say anything that we should know?"

  "Nothing. I suggest you phone him and tell him what you're doing, assuming he doesn't already know. Someone needs to know where to start searching for you both if it all goes wrong -- or, knowing you, maybe I should say when it all goes wrong. Please, Matt, I urge you to be very cautious. Don't assume I can get you out of trouble every time. You could be way out of your depth if you're messing with kidnappers."

  After a brief word of thanks to Simon, Matt finished the call. "That was Simon Urquet. I'm going to phone Steve now." Just using that name felt awkward. Well, when you've kissed an archbishop, perhaps it did bring yo
u onto slightly more familiar terms in the relationship. But Steve? "Going to phone Stephen," he added.

  Pete was standing by impatiently. "Look, you guys, you can make all the phone calls you want later. Right now, we need to sort out the details of this flight. Where we're going to take off from, where we're going to land, and how we're going to know when the plane is over the yard."

  "I take it you have a computer," Matt said.

  "Of course."

  "Then let's look at Google Earth. We find Senator Harding's house and see how big the whole place is. I suppose we might need to fly over it several times to get it all in."

  Pete shook his head. "If we keep flying up and down, the cops will be there immediately. There and back will have to do. Senator Harding has a thing about security."

  So that was why the police cruiser came so quickly. This was certainly going to be difficult if they weren't going to be caught.

  Pete had to download the latest version of Google Earth which took several minutes. Eventually the three of them crowded around the bulky computer monitor. Matt showed him on the rental agency map where to find the house.

  The sprawling house, with outbuildings and an area of woodland, took up much of the space. The only area where a grave could be dug, even a small grave, was quite limited.

  Pete ran his finger over the glass screen. "The camera has a small motor drive built in. We can fire off multiple shots as the airplane flies over the yard. I'll put a servo on the take button. We'll fire off a burst going along here." He ran a grubby finger across the grubby screen. "Then I'll turn the plane here." Another grubby imprint. "Fly over the yard again, and land back here where we started. You got a car?"

  "It's across the street, out of sight. Why?"

  "I don't want to get caught with the plane. I'll be using my bike. Japanese. Five hundred cc engine and off-street capability means a quick getaway if trouble comes. But I'll take the camera when the plane lands, so if you're caught there won't be any evidence to show you've been snooping. You can claim you were just having fun flying a plane, but don't say you got it from me."

  Matt nodded. It made sense, although being caught with a plane in Senator Harding's smart residential street would be a difficult one to talk their way out of. Model plane enthusiasts surely wouldn't be flying there for fun.

  An hour later Pete was showing them out of the door and locking it behind them. To Matt's disappointment, Pete was not exactly like Mac the Hack. Unlike the computer wizard back home, this man valued his beauty sleep, and he also had business to attend to in the morning. They were to call at two o'clock to pick up the model plane and its associated equipment. Pete would follow as a safe distance, and meet them in the so-called picnic area a mile beyond the Senator's mansion.

  The evening felt quite chilly, and Matt didn't feel like sleeping in the car. "We'll find a budget hotel for the night. We don't have any luggage, so they'll probably think you're the local talent."

  Zoé looked too depressed to give any sort of reaction. All she said was, "Don't forget we have to phone Stephen Valdieri and let him know we are staying until tomorrow. Maybe he has the good news."