Matt removed the fake registration plate fixed over a genuine one.
Kate arched an eyebrow.
“Can’t be too careful,” he said. “The police might be looking for you—just in case they spotted me pick you up.”
“I’m impressed, but please don’t ask me to put on that itchy wig again.”
“No, I think we should be fine now, so long as… we don’t do something stupid.” She noted that he almost said, you don’t do something stupid.
He followed the lake road to the highway and then on to the I-66. For most of the journey she sat in silence watching the stream of cars, always amazed at how there could be so many cars on the road during the day. No wonder everywhere clogged up during rush hour.
Her mind kept going back to the numbers. She had kept the original photograph and pulled it from her handbag. Could staring at the numbers make the answer jump out? Come on, Joe, what are you telling me?
The smiley was a little odd. Joe wasn’t one of those people that felt obliged to enliven their texts and emails with smiling or sad faces. It was out of character.
Eventually she said, “Where in Washington are we going?”
“Merrifield, not far from Arlington.”
“There’s bound to be an internet café somewhere near, isn’t there? While you’re with Myron, I’ll go on the internet.”
“I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Why not? I won’t use my name. No one can trace me. What’s the risk?”
“I guess… Why do you need to get on the web?”
Kate waved the photograph. “Here’s the thing: the message is for me. I’m no good with crypto-mathingy. Puzzles maybe, but the techniques you’ve been trying are totally alien to me. And I’m certainly no maths genius. Surely it’s simple.”
“But Joe wanted me to help and he knows I have friends who do this for a living. In fact, don’t you know someone too?”
“Sort of, but not really. Maybe my friend Andrew could have cracked it. I don’t know, I just feel the need to try.”
Matt pursed his lips, thinking, clearly uncomfortable. However, by the time he parked he’d decided. “We just passed an internet café two blocks back. It’s called Cyber Ground.” They got out. He locked the car and handed over the key. “I’ll either meet you in there or, if you finish earlier, I’ll meet you at the car.”
“How long will you be?”
“I don’t know, but let’s say no more than an hour. If it looks like being longer, I’ll come back and let you know.”
Kate walked into Cyber Ground and was immediately taken by its size. In her UK experience, internet cafés were tiny, seedy joints with a handful of terminals. As she stood at reception ready to pay for an hour’s access, she noticed there was a range of mobile phones with tariffs. The spotty young man behind the counter studied her. His name tag said Harley. If his face could say it’s-all-too-much-trouble any more clearly, it would have been tattooed on his forehead.
Suddenly struck by the thought, she said, “Can I get a pay-as-you-go SIM for my mobile here?”
It’s-all-too-much-trouble switched instantly to what-are-you-talking-about?
Then she twigged. She pulled out her phone. “My cell phone. Can I get a SIM for it?”
“Sure. Free with $20 airtime.”
An hour on the internet was $3. She paid, inserted the SIM and sat in a booth. She logged on and immediately keyed the thirty-six-digit number into Google. At first she was excited by the large number of hits: YouTube; Philosophical Magazine: a journal of experimental and…; Hot Bird 6/8/9 at 13.0oE—LyngSat; DistroWatch.com; MBL—Los Angeles…; Arabic numbers—Wikipedia. The last one looked interesting. She clicked on the link and then realized it was just a page about numbers. Google was matching them in any order.
She went over to Harley. “Excuse me.”
He looked up with that same it’s-all-too-much-trouble expression.
She smiled. “I’m trying to do a search for a specific combination of numbers.”
“What, like lottery numbers?” Hmm. At least there was a flicker of interest.
“Something like that. Google seems to match on any combination. Is there another search engine you’d recommend—one that looks for the specific sequence.”
“No problemo. My best is Alltheweb.com. Just select Exact phrase from the Advanced Search options. That should match those lucky numbers.” He brightened slightly. “Hey, but if you win, I want a commission.”
Back in the booth she typed in the search engine, clicked on the option and entered the numbers.
No Web pages found that match your query
She tried putting spaces between the digits but it made no difference. She went back to Google and looked at the hits it had returned. Something made her suddenly remember to send a message. She switched on the iPhone to send a text to Darcy. What should she say? She typed:
Sorry I’ve taken so long to let you know all is OK. Being helped and making good progress. Pretty sure I’ll find Joe! Hope you’re OK. Love to the girls.
Then she deleted it. Tim had been insistent about a simple spam-like, coded message. If she used one of the twin’s names it meant everything was fine. She typed:
Delays communicating. Use India mobile and all will be OK.
She sent it and returned her attention to the PC screen. The YouTube link was some Manchester United vs Sunderland football match statistics. The Philosophical Magazine was slow to load but just turned out to be statistical tables.
She thought Hot Bird sounded like it might be a porn site but turned out to be a satellite TV service. DistroWatch.com seemed to be a business card service. The very fact that she couldn’t understand the page intrigued her. She searched it for a link to an address: business cards—business address? Nothing. The MBL—Los Angeles link was similar to the YouTube one.
There were others but this approach seemed a waste of time and too random. She decided to go back to Alltheweb.com and try breaking up the numbers. Maybe into groups of six as Matt had done last night.
Her phone rang.
“Kate?” It was Tim.
“Probably best we don’t talk,” she said quietly, and immediately regretted being so brusque. After all, Tim and Darcy had gone through a lot to help her—probably were still going through it. “Sorry, Tim.”
“It’s OK. We need to talk.”
Tim seemed to be ignoring his own advice. “What…?”
“The police have been here. They have a warrant for your arrest. It’s been on the news too. They think you shot that Harper lady.”
Kate started to say something but Tim continued.
“They found the gun in your flat.”
It wasn’t Joe’s gun; he’d taken that away after she’d found it. It didn’t make sense. “But I don’t—”
“And your prints were on a glass at Ms Harper’s. They know you were in her house.”
“This is crazy. I’ve never been in her house!” Harley looked at her with disapproval. Kate held up her hand by way of apology and spoke quietly. “You’ve got to believe me. I’m being framed. I didn’t go into her house and I certainly didn’t kill her.”
There was a pause then Tim said, “The US police will be looking for you.” Another pause.
“It’s all right. I suppose I knew you’d have to tell them I’d travelled here.”
“Sorry, Kate, but they threatened to arrest Darcy. She’s beside herself.”
Kate was staring at the screen she’d started to put the first six numbers in. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Call Inspector Mather. You can’t go on the run over there. They shoot people in the States. Promise me you’ll call him.”
“OK, I’ll call. Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”
She ended the call and looked at the numbers she’d keyed in. Then she glanced at the code on the photograph, specifically the smiley face. Oh my God! She knew the meaning of the first part of the code.
FIFTY-FIVE
Afte
r leaving the airport, Ramirez had heard the All Points for the silver-blue Volvo. May be armed, do not approach, Dispatch had said. The voice also provided the vehicle’s plate.
Idiots, Ramirez thought. The guy who met Kate Blakemore wouldn’t have been so stupid as to use real plates. If he was really smart the silver-blue Volvo would be switched for another. But then again maybe he didn’t know how close they were on Kate’s tail.
Highways had confirmed that the car had not passed through the toll booths, so where had they gone? She’d called her partner and they’d agreed to split the search. She would cover the suburbs; he would cover the central area. Needle in a haystack, but her philosophy was: hey, sometimes you just get lucky.
It was 11am the next day, and after an uncomfortable night in the car, she was starting to think it was about time she got a new philosophy. She stopped in Woodbridge and got a vanilla skinny latte and bagel and enjoyed a break overlooking the state park.
She had barely started on the coffee when her phone rang. Her partner.
“Got them.”
“Seriously?” She choked on her drink.
“Where?”
“Merrifield. The girl is in an internet café.”
“I’ll come to you.”
“No. Sit tight. I’ll update you.” He ended the call.
Asshole! She took a final sip of coffee and tossed it into a trashcan. No way was she sitting tight. She jumped into the car and headed towards Merrifield.
The first four digits were 1401—the same number as Runtime—and then there was the smiley. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence. It had to refer to the Laughing Train. But what was the meaning of the rest? On the Google search page she typed the next four numbers5148. Most of the hits seemed to relate to a chemical. Nothing attracted her attention. On the second page the wordsTrack flight status of 5148 looked interesting. The link took her to a flight status site. EV 5148 was an airline flight number. The flight left Atlanta bound for Tallahassee. It seemed reasonable that the code would relate to a location. Possibly implying that Joe was in either Atlanta or Tallahassee, but it was non-specific, and how did it relate to the Laughing Train?
She drummed her fingers on the desktop and decided to keep her promise to Tim while she waited for inspiration.
Inspector Mather answered on the second ring. “Where are you?” he said.
“Washington. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
“You could have travelled somewhere else, but I wanted to give you a chance to tell the truth…” He paused, and she wondered whether he’d stopped himself from saying “for a change!”
Mather continued in an earnest tone: “Kate, you need to hand yourself in. Go to the DC police station on Indiana Avenue and ask for Detective Steve O’Donnell. He’s responsible for your capture and I’ll brief him that you made contact. If you can’t get there then call him and he’ll pick you up.” He rattled off a 202 area code phone number.
“I’m innocent.”
“Pardon? Can you speak up?”
“I’m in a public place—can’t speak too loud. I said I am innocent.”
“Then stop running and contact O’Donnell.”
“But you found a gun in my apartment!” Kate looked around in case she’d been overheard but Harley wasn’t paying her any attention. “Inspector, it must have been planted. I’m being framed.”
She was surprised by Mather’s next comment. He came back with, “I’m sure that’s the case. You don’t strike me as a murderer. Ballistics matched the bullet that killed Stephanie Harper to the gun. I’ve asked the Prague police to check the bullets found at the scene of Peter Sikorski’s murder.”
Hope swelled in Kate’s chest. She saw her reflection in the PC screen. It was the first time she’d smiled for over a week. “And if they match then you know I’m telling the truth!”
“That’s correct. We know you weren’t in Prague when Sikorski was murdered.”
The screen came into focus again. While she’d been talking she’d absently backtabbed until she was on the original search page. Mather was still speaking but her mind had tuned it out. A realization popped into her head: the link she’d thought would be a porn site—Hot Bird 6/8/9 at 13.0oE—ended with 13 degrees east. A direction. On the flight status site, she had been attracted by the locations. If Joe was sending her a simple message it would be a reference to a location. Like 1401, being Windsor. She googled Windsor and clicked on Maps.
“Kate?” Mather broke into her thoughts.
“Sorry, got distracted. I need to do something. I’ll call back.” At the other end the inspector said something else, but the phone was already away from her ear and then off.
Looking at the map of the city she knew well, she wondered where she could find map references, latitude and longitude. The session abruptly ended. The hour was up. She jumped up and handed Harley a five dollar bill. With no appreciation of the urgency, he ponderously gave her the change and a ticket with a new code for access.
She dashed back and opened Google Chrome. She typed:search latitude and longitude
A Google help link took her to Google Maps again, but this time there was an example in the search. So, if she knew the coordinates, it would identify the location. What about the other way around?
Kate remembered she used to use a site called Multimap.com. Didn’t that have more search options? She went there and typedWindsorin the search box. Below the map was a grid reference: SU968768. Then: latitude 51:28:57N (51.48145). Below that: longitude 0:36:21W (-0.60596). 51.48145 was close to the fifth to eleventh digits of the code. 0.60596 looked remarkably similar to 060697.
She went back to Google Maps and keyed in:51.48336, -0.60697
Windsor central station. It made sense. The smiley related to the Laughing Train. The first four digits referred to the Laughing Train. The next thirteen digits were the map reference for its location, ignoring decimal points and signs.
Hands shaking, Kate counted thirteen back from the end. It left six digits. She clicked on Washington and noted the latitude started with -77. She counted back five digits after the decimal point. Latitude -09? That didn’t make sense, so she included the prior digit. Latitude -109. That was better. Working back left only four digits. She ignored the 1641 based on the guess that they would be found at the location—like the first four digits were the train. Shetyped45.17519, -109.24951. The place: somewhere called Red Lodge, Montana.
Kate had no idea where Montana was, let alone a small town called Red Lodge, but she was sure about one thing. She now knew where Joe wanted her to go.
FIFTY-SIX
Patience was one of Amir’s qualities. Delays at immigration had meant he had lost the girl at the airport. He hadn’t been concerned about getting through, but he had no doubt that his Middle Eastern appearance had resulted in extra scrutiny. In Europe, Amir knew prejudice was there, but beneath the surface. Since 9/11, his experience of the US was of open racism. It was no longer targeted at the blacks, but the Arabs. Even with a Belgian name and passport, he looked like he could be Islamic and hence was more thoroughly checked.
The gun had been where he expected and there was a car available in the parking lot. However that was as much use as his contact in the US had been. As far as he was concerned it was enough. He didn’t need help. If he could get this far, he could finish the job.
He didn’t drive around looking for the girl. That would have been pointless. All he needed to do was prepare and wait. He drove to downtown Washington, found basic accommodation and paid in advance for the night. Immediately afterwards, he headed back to a RadioShack he’d passed and bought some equipment. From a convenience store he bought a large box of dates and mineral water. Then he set himself up in the room, listening to the police chatter, with a PDA by his side.
He heard the police discussing the need to look out for a silver-blue Volvo. They were looking for any silver-blue Volvo, guessing the plates would be false. However Amir figured that the car was either
no longer in DC or would be ditched for another.
During the night he rested but, while half of his brain slept, the other half listened out for news from the police. By morning nothing had piqued his interest. He performed his ritual of isometric exercises for strength and conditioning, showered and dressed. Mid-morning, the PDA lit up. A map appeared on the screen and a blue dot flashed.
Amir smiled. The stupid girl had turned on her phone. He could track her again. Not only that, but she was in Washington on Lee Highway in Merrifield, not far away. He packed his carry-all and hurried to his car.
Kate wondered about searching for 1641—the four-digit code equivalent to 1401, the code for the Laughing Train. There would be somewhere in Red Lodge that the number related to. She was convinced that this was where or how she would find Joe.
She checked her watch. Where was Matt? He’d said an hour at the most. That had been almost an hour and a half ago. She headed out to the street, looked up and down and saw the Volvo parked beyond a set of lights.
Suddenly the doubts flooded back. He wasn’t who he said he was. She’d felt tricked at first. Why hadn’t he confessed upfront that he wasn’t Danny? Would she still have come to the States? She thought so. He seemed to know everything. And yet, what had he really told her? She still didn’t know why Joe had been taken away, why she had been misled by Detectives Hurwitz and Woodall? Perhaps she shouldn’t just tell Matt that she knew where Joe was. After all, had she really needed him?
Kate looked across the road and saw Matt standing on the pavement, looking at her. His face spoke of frustration. Was it with her or the code, she wondered. She kept her face impassive so that he wouldn’t guess she’d cracked Joe’s message.
At a crossing, she looked left and right waiting for a gap in the traffic. Could she cross before it indicated if it was clear? She wasn’t sure of the jaywalking rules. At that moment a car went past. An ordinary car. Nothing special except the driver looked right at her and then looked away. He was wearing a disguise, but Kate immediately recognized the face of the satellite installation man.
I Dare You: A gripping thriller that will keep you guessing (A Kate Blakemore Crime Thriller Book 1) Page 21