by S. T. Boston
Finch shrugged. “I don't know yet, just a bit of a hunch and I need to start somewhere. How much time has passed now since the crash?”
Buer checked his watch. “I was notified just after eight pm, and it's now a few minutes after midnight, so around four hours.”
“You said the military was on site inside an hour?”
“That's right,” replied Buer. “The local police were on scene first, but told to stay clear and just set up the roadblocks. The first sighting of her was around half an hour after the crash, when the first ground troops arrived with General Stone.”
“So she's been unsighted now for three hours. How much manpower is up there searching the area?” Finch was still trying to piece it all together. He suspected she would be well clear of the cordoned area by now.
“Four helicopters with heat sensitive cameras,” replied Mitchell, switching screens again. “Around forty ground troops and five dog units.” He ran his hand down the list, reading it off. Finch did the numbers in his head, visualising the cordon.
“So in three hours, even if she was averaging six miles an hour on foot, which would be hard on that kind of terrain, the furthest she could have made it is eighteen miles.” He paused. “I would say without doubt she's well clear of the area by now. Those choppers cover a lot of ground. They can easily tell a person's heat signature from that of an animal. Even if the ground and dog units didn't find her, they should have.” Finch glanced at Buer, whose expression said it all. “I need to see more of that call log.”
Mitchell scanned down another few pages on the incident report. “We have another vehicle here,” he said, in a slightly disinterested tone. It was obvious he thought this was a waste of his time. “Ford MTR Freedom RV, registered to Freeway RV Rentals in Denver, Colorado.” Mitchell paused as he clicked to the next page. “Two passengers, both male, one a Mr. Adam Fisher, the other a Mr. Samuel Becker, both British citizens. Notes say they're heading to San Francisco. Looks like the Sheriff searched the vehicle, negative result.” Mitchell began to scroll again.
“Stop!” cried Finch.
Mitchell lifted his finger off the scroll bar. “Why? It says here search, negative result – look.” He pointed to the screen.
“Just check for me. Is that the largest vehicle to pass through since the crash?”
“There were only two, the pickup and the RV,” said Mitchell, running his eyes down the rest of the log.
“I need to know everything you can find on the two occupants.” Finch looked up at Buer, who for the first time since his arrival, had a slight smile on his face.
“You think that's the missing link?” Buer asked hopefully.
“It stands to reason. It's a large vehicle with plenty of places to hide someone.” He glanced at the screen. Mitchell was busily finding out what he could about the two Brits. “I'm guessing two guys on a road trip are going to be in their twenties or thirties, not married. Let's say they find this girl, or she flags them down?”
Buer knew exactly what was being implied. “You might be right, Robert. As I said, I knew her long ago, she can have certain… effect on men. She's most definitely the kind of girl they would choose to help.”
“Okay, here we go,” Mitchell cut in. “Both passed through US Immigration today,” he checked his watch. “Sorry, I mean yesterday, and they're both in their early thirties. Visa details list Adam Fisher as a freelance writer, not married.” Mitchell clicked and changed screens. “Samuel Becker, listed as unemployed but formerly British Military, also unmarried.” Mitchell clicked two thumbnail-sized photos and their immigration pictures filled the screen.
“That's our boys!” exclaimed Finch. During his time working on Presidential protection he'd learned to trust his gut. His foresight was rarely wrong. “We need to find that RV.”
“Are you sure, Robert?” asked Buer, a slight hint of doubt still in his voice.
“Yes, sir. I'm certain.” He turned to Mitchell. “I need you to get into the Freeway RV system and bring up the hire agreement.” Mitchell nodded and went to work. “I'm guessing it won't be too much trouble seeing as you've already hacked the FBI and local Sheriff's Department tonight.”
“No problem at all,” he replied.
“They should have at least one cell phone number listed. And then I'm going to need to you to run a cell locate program for me. We should be able to get a GPS location. At the very worst, we can see what cell mast that phone is pinging off.” Finch allowed himself a little smile of satisfaction. Of course, if he was wrong, he would look like an idiot, not to mention the time that would have been wasted. But he wasn't wrong. He could feel it in his bones. “We should know what direction they're headed in within half an hour,” he said to Buer.
“I hope for both our sakes that you're right on this. Despite what's happened over the past few hours, you've always served above and beyond what we expect of you. I'm going to trust you on this.” Buer patted his shoulder with a heavy hand. “You're going to be taking Roddick with you,” he added, and Finch cringed internally. “As you know, navigation is one of his strong points.”
“He has more than one?” Finch cut in, feeling cheated. Buer treated him to a look which made it clear he was overstepping the mark.
“You'll also need to be in contact with us here. You can't concentrate on driving and speaking to us simultaneously. We don't want you running yourself off the road.” Finch knew the matter was non-negotiable. As long as he got it dealt with fast, he wouldn't need to suffer Roddick's company for too long. “We have suitable weapons here for you to take with you, as well as an FBI identity badge and card. It might be of use. If it turns out she's with the two British guys, then kill them both – is that clear?” Finch nodded. “It's also imperative that you recover the Key Tablet if she's in possession of it, and that you take her alive. In the kit we've prepped for you, there's a vial containing the same serum you used in Malaysia. Do not kill her, unless you have no other option.”
“Understood,” said Finch, as he turned to leave.
“Oh, one more thing, Robert!”
“What's that, sir?” He stopped a few paces from the laptops and turned around.
“When you do find her, just be careful and remember what the objective is.” Finch stared at him, a puzzled expression in his eyes. Buer continued. “As I said before, Oriyanna can have a certain effect on some men.”
Finch shook his head dismissively. “Oh, don't worry about that. I know what I need to do.”
“No, you don't understand. In the old times, before the war and even after it, Oriyanna spent many years here on Earth. She was seen by the ancient people as a goddess. There were many Earth men who left their wives and offered themselves to her, even as sacrifice.”
“With all due respect, sir, times have changed a little. Trust me, I know what I have to do no matter who she is… or was.” Finch turned and left the room, knowing there was much to prepare before he hit the road. Roddick offered him a sly smile as he passed by. Obviously, he already knew they were going to be working together. Roddick wouldn't be happy about it either, but on the flip side, he would enjoy the fact that his mere presence was pissing Finch off. With about ten minutes to fill before they would be ready to leave, Finch made his way to the bathroom and grabbed a quick shower. Maybe leaving my bag at the airport wasn't such a good idea, he thought as he stepped into the steaming water. He'd left himself with no choice but to stay in the same clothes. The conversation with Buer kept running through his head as he washed. What was it with this girl that had Buer so shaken up? Surely she was no different to any of the others he'd killed.
Closing the faucet, he stepped out of the shower. The water had revived his tired body a little, but it had done nothing to freshen his clothes up. Within minutes he was dressed and back at the row of laptops. Roddick wandered over lazily and joined him, whilst Mitchell was busy working on the cell phone number he'd acquired from the information on the Freeway RV's rental agreement.
“Looks like we're going to be partners,” Roddick said, with a slightly cocky grin on his face.
Finch pasted on a false smile. “Well, you'd best not fuck up on this or we'll both be dead.”
“Oh, don't worry. I'll just be doing the driving… and a little shooting if needed. I've got your back.”
The thought of Roddick having his back offered no comfort whatsoever. Finch checked his watch and saw it was getting on towards one am. They needed to get moving and soon. Every second that RV was on the road, was putting them further onto the back foot.
“Okay, here we go,” said Mitchell, a slightly relieved tone in his voice. “I managed to get Adam Fisher's cell phone number from the rental form. It's registered with a UK-based provider – unfortunately, at the moment I can't get it to GPS locate; the British phones can't always be tracked as accurately as the US ones. I just tried pinging it to see what cell tower it's on, but the data is thirty minutes old.” He pointed to the screen and Finch couldn't believe his luck. The cell tower was about twenty miles west of Denver; they had actually been driving toward him the whole time.
“Where do you think they are?” asked Finch, his excitement growing by the second.
“It's hard to tell,” said Mitchell, looking at the map with interest. “There are lots of roads they could be on, but my guess would be either the 470 or 285. Both are west of the city.”
“Is there any way you can get the cell to register on the network and give us a more up-to-date location?” Finch questioned.
“Sure, I can call the number, let it ring once and hang up.”
“Do it. I just hope it won't spook them. With any luck, the phone will be on silent anyway.” Finch knew it was a gamble, but with the cell data being half an hour old they could already be miles from the last location. He watched Mitchell dial the number, placing the cell on speakerphone. After a few seconds the phone rang once. Mitchell hung up immediately and turned his attention back to the screen. He pinged the number again using the cell phone location program.
“Good, good it worked,” he said, sounding relieved. “Okay, it still won't let me get into the GPS function, but the cell tower info has updated. The phone is now registering on a mast that's five miles east of Castle Rock.” Mitchell zoomed in on the map. “I'd say they're still moving.” He scanned the screen. “Most likely, they're on I25 or one of the smaller side routes heading south, toward Colorado Springs. They could be anywhere from thirty to forty miles southwest of here.”
The information was all Finch needed to know. The police report had stated the RV was heading for San Francisco, but if that were the case, why the hell were they heading south? “Where are you going?” he whispered to himself, staring at the small cell tower dot on the monitor. “Get your stuff together Roddick,” he grinned. “We leave in five minutes!”
It was time to go hunting.
Chapter 9
Adam's soft cotton tracksuit bottoms were ill-fitting in almost every way: baggy around the waist and far too long in the leg, but still Oriyanna was pleased to be out of her damp and dirty flight suit. As well as the bottoms, he'd lent her a dark blue hooded top, which felt as if it were made of the same material as the trousers. Both were soft and comfortable, as well as feeling warm against her skin. Unfortunately, the top was also a little on the big side. Adam was a good five to six inches taller and the sleeves came down over her hands and required rolling up, just like the tracksuit legs. Taking a few moments to study her reflection in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her wet and tangled shoulder-length blonde hair. Despite washing and towel drying it, her hair still looked a mess. The small comb they'd provided her with wasn't really up to the job of sorting through it. Sam had given her something called an 'elastic band' to tie it all back with. Collecting up the damp mess of hair, she secured it in a makeshift ponytail. It wasn't ideal, but at least it didn't look quite so untidy. The tiny shower cubical in the RV was not the most comfortable way to bathe, but there was no denying she felt better for the semi-warm shower and change of clothes. As she tried to make the best of her appearance in the mirror, the RV bumped over a pothole in the road, making her grab the sink for support. The whole bathroom shook violently with the jolt, knocking the shampoo from its hook and sending it crashing into the shower tray.
The last few hours had been tough. She still regretted the way she'd needed to transfer to Sam. It had taken a good fifteen minutes for him to fully recover. She'd held him in her mind for longer than she liked; a few seconds was the most people could generally handle. Much longer periods, like the one he'd been subjected to, always took more time to recover from. Oriyanna glanced into the sink. The Key Tablet bounced around a little in the bowl. She brushed her hand over its cool surface, making it hum and light up. She knew she'd been lucky; firstly, just surviving the crash had been a miracle. She didn't know how long she'd lain in the forest after they came down. The sound of a helicopter had woken her. Thankfully, any injuries she'd suffered had already healed, enabling her to get away. For a few seconds the memory of the chase through the forest rushed through her mind, just as she'd shown it to Sam. Oriyanna rubbed her thigh where the wound had been and smiled as she recalled waking up in the seat cavity, not knowing where she was. As soon as Sam had spoken to her, even though she couldn't see him, she'd known she was safe. There was something in his voice that she trusted. It had seemed like an eternity passed, lying there in the dark whilst the Sheriff spoke to them. Had he been a little more meticulous, things could have turned out very differently. There was still so much she didn't understand. The four Watchers were dead, that much she was sure of, but how the enemy had gotten to them was still a mystery. So far, from what Sam and Adam had told her, nothing else had changed in the last two weeks. There were obviously events in motion that had not yet come to pass. She felt sure though, that any day now something would happen, it was just a matter of what, and when. Sam was confident they could reach Austin within the next day or so. Getting rid of the RV would cost them time, but he'd insisted they needed to change vehicles. Oriyanna had seen it in him during the transfer; he'd experienced battle. He had courage and training that would no doubt prove vital to this situation. Adam was more of an intellectual. His reasoning and understanding would also prove valuable. What she had sensed in them both had earned her trust one hundred percent. Even with Sam's experience, she still felt on edge. With every passing minute she expected to be stopped and searched again. The soldiers in the forest had meant to kill her, and she knew that wasn't normal practice. Someone who knew exactly who she was had issued the order. The thought chilled her to the bone. How many of them were here? And how had they not been discovered? For the moment, there were far too many questions and not enough answers. Oriyanna adjusted her hair one last time, purposely prolonging having to go back up front. Prior to showering and changing into Adam's clothes, she'd promised to tell them everything she knew. The problem was, there was no easy way to explain the information. How could she tell it all to them in a short, concise manner? There was just too much to explain, not to mention the questions that would no doubt follow, but they deserved to know and if they were going to help her, they needed to know. Taking a deep breath and a last glance in the mirror, she left the cubicle and made her way to the front of the vehicle to join them.
* * *
“We're just south west of Denver,” said Adam, glancing in the rearview mirror at her. “How are the clothes?” It seemed strange seeing her in his things. The baggy and unflattering attire did nothing to take away the way she made him feel. His stomach skipped every time he looked at her; he liked and hated the feeling, all at the same time.
“Not too bad,” she replied. “A bit on the big side, but better than being in my dirty uniform.” She sat down and readjusted the bottom of the pants which had slipped down and caught under her bare feet.
“When we stop and ditch the RV, we can try and find something a little more your size,” he added.
Or
iyanna smiled in appreciation. “Thanks. I need you to tell me everything you can about the death of John Remy and the disappearances of the other three. Did Sam say you were there when it happened?”
“Kind of,” replied Adam. “It was around two weeks ago now, in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, at the World Summit. It was the first of its kind. It was seen as a chance for heads of state, business and religion to come together. The US President spearheaded the idea just over a year ago. I was only there to cover a story for the Financial Times, and I left the morning after it all happened so I don't know too much.” Adam glanced at the SatNav. The miles were slowly ticking down, but they hadn't even made a dent in the journey yet. “Anyway, it was four people who disappeared in all, not three. The head of the President's security detail also vanished. They're still not sure if he was involved, for the past two weeks the media have been reporting that it was a massive heart attack that killed the president.”
“Who was this security guy?”
“Robert Finch,” Adam replied, splitting his attention between the road and the rearview mirror as he spoke. “He's currently wanted for questioning, but as far as I know, they don't have anything on him other than circumstantial evidence. His face has been on the news all over the world. He's also on the FBI's Most Wanted page.”
“Do you think this Finch guy is involved then?” Sam cut in.
“He has to be,” Oriyanna replied hastily. “John Remy, as well as the other three who went missing, possessed The Gift. There's no way Remy could have suffered a heart attack. I don't know who this Finch guy is, but I need to find out.”