“Agent Peterson,” Dillon said, “what are those numbers in the bottom right corner?”
When Quinn didn’t say anything for a minute, Dillon prompted, “It looks like a countdown.”
“It is,” Quinn finally said.
Dillon was almost afraid to ask, but he did nonetheless.
“A countdown to what?”
“Murder.”
Kate monitored her bank of computer screens as her enhanced programs attempted to triangulate the location of Trask’s signal. The largest screen, the one in the middle, was the live feed of the victim.
Kate did pull-ups on a bar she’d installed in her room as she watched the young woman on the screen. The girl sat frozen, defiant, scared. Trask wouldn’t let her stay like that too long. But for now, he was still whetting his viewers’ appetite, showing them the prize. He’d probably give them something before the first free hours were up, something to entice them to pay the twenty-five thousand.
At four hours, FBI Agent Paige Henshaw had been raped.
Sweat coated her skin, but Kate continued the pull-ups until her arms shook. She dropped and did crunches. The air was too thin up here in the mountains to run, so she’d modified her routine, keeping it intense, building her strength.
She came up on a crunch and caught movement in the center screen. One of Trask’s goons had untied the victim and was holding her from behind. Another man, Roger Morton-the man who’d first raped Paige-held a knife.
Kate jumped up and touched the screen.
Roger held the knife in front of the girl’s face. Her eyes went wide and she visibly shook. He put the tip of the knife at her throat, then in one swift motion ripped her blouse with his other hand.
She flinched, the knife cutting into her throat just enough to draw blood. Roger and the goon laughed and pulled off her blouse. She wore a black lace bra. Something she had probably picked up with a girlfriend at the mall, enjoying the feeling of maturity, of growing up, of femininity.
Now its sexy lace was her humiliation.
“Show your fans what you’ve got, Lucy baby.” Roger stepped aside so the camera could pan the girl’s chest.
She pulled away from the grasp of the bastard behind her and punched Roger in the face. She almost got in another jab, but the men wrestled her to the ground. She fought and cried out, not in pain but in rage.
“Keep fighting, honey,” Kate said to the screen. “Keep the spirit alive. Don’t let them defeat you.”
Roger slugged the girl and a voice from off-camera said, “Don’t.”
Goose bumps rose on Kate’s arms. Her scalp tingled. Her chest tightened. The bastard was watching. Why should she be surprised? Why would it be any different from how it had been five years ago? Three years ago? She’d slowed down Trask’s operation, but hadn’t ended it. Other girls had died after Paige.
Kate double-checked her programs, helpless to do anything but wait for the computer to find a weakness, and pray that it wasn’t another clever trap. Each girl Trask had killed had provided her with more tools to locate him, but he was improving his security at the same rate she was improving her hacking ability. Last year the FBI had almost lost another agent based on her intelligence.
Or lack thereof, she thought with dread. After she’d sent that last set of data, she had discovered that Trask had set a trap for the federal rescue team. Jeff Merritt hadn’t wanted to use Kate’s information in the first place, but when she sent him her analysis, he had jumped at it, walking right into Trask’s trap, ignoring Kate’s warnings to be cautious, that it might be another of Trask’s ruses. If only she’d had more time, more resources, more help.
Her instant messenger beeped. Only one person had her IM identity.
She sat down and read the message.
Kate, it’s me. I know you’re there.
She typed.
You don’t know. You’re just guessing.
I know you’re there because you won’t leave until she’s dead or you locate him.
What do you want?
She didn’t need any of Quinn Peterson’s crap. He typed,
The hostage is Lucy Kincaid. She’s eighteen and was supposed to graduate from high school yesterday. Trask used the name Trevor Conrad to lure her out. We need your help.
I already helped. I sent you the link less than twenty-five minutes after it went up.
I know you’re tracking him. You can’t go after him alone.
Do I have immunity?
A long pause on the screen before Quinn typed,
You know I can’t do that. But I’m on your side. I’ll do anything and everything I can.
I’m not coming back until I find him. Otherwise everything I’ve done since Paige died will have been for nothing.
She shut down the IM so Quinn couldn’t argue with her. He’d been her only link with the outside world during the last five years, and she would always be grateful to him. But the truth was, he couldn’t give her freedom. And last year he had been as frustrated as Jeff Merritt that her information had led the feds into a trap.
She’d rather be in a prison of her own making than railroaded into a jail cell by her own people. They should have listened to her when she had told them it might be a trap. But Merritt was as headstrong as she was about bringing Paige’s killer to justice. He’d jumped the gun. Was that Kate’s fault? She’d warned them.
It was just Kate now. Her versus Trask. She wasn’t about to jeopardize any more lives. If Merritt and the others had been killed, their deaths would have been on her conscience, no matter what she’d tried to do to protect them.
The center screen showed that Roger and the goon had wrestled the girl-Lucy-to the floor. She was positioned on the ground, tied to metal hoops protruding from the beige carpet. The camera panned over her breasts and face.
His voice, Trask or Conrad or whatever name the bastard was using now, came over cyberspace clearly.
“Only thirty more minutes to enjoy the free show. If you’d like to continue after that, log on to my secure server and use your credit card to purchase the entire forty-eight hours for only fifty thousand dollars.”
He’d doubled his prices.
“Once you register, you’ll be able to vote on how our lovely guest will be treated. Isn’t Lucy just perfect? Fiesty. And I have it on very good authority that she’s a virgin.
“For your enjoyment, and for a limited time, you can download highlights from our past shows for a small fee. Simply click on the box in the lower left-hand corner of your screen.”
Kate swallowed. She didn’t want to see them, but she had to force herself.
She clicked on the box and bought the compilation, saving the server information to analyze, though she knew he would keep this particular server at a location far from his hideout.
The video was ten minutes long.
Play.
