minute traces, it reacts by turning bright blue under ultraviolet light.
Danton pulled on hooded coveralls, a face mask, latex gloves. On his head, he then slipped on an expen sive lightweight surgeon’s headlight offering LED illu mination and magnification. He prepared a large batch of the solution, then poured it into a cylinder resembling a diver’s air tank. He connected it to a hose and sprayer applicator, then slipped the tank on his back.
In the black, moonless night, Danton began working on the scene.
Section by section.
Spraying then scoping with the ultraviolet lamp.
Spraying. Scoping.
He’d devoured every study on outdoor application of luminol.
The Russian, Swedish and Icelandic studies showed that months, even years of rain and snow, did not entirely eliminate the presence of human blood. Of par ticular interest was the study that indicated human blood was present on a centuries-old stone the Vikings had used for ritual ceremonies.
Anyone coming upon Danton would have witnessed a surreal ballet as he worked the scene like an artist.
First, the immediate campsite. Then the ground, the picnic table, the trees.
All remained as dark as the sky.
All negative.
Danton followed the short path to the riverbank and worked his way back slowly.
Spraying. Scoping.
A couple of paces from the water he froze.
Two small circles glowed blue.
“And thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground.”
Danton, like most blood-pattern experts, knew the passage from Genesis.
He continued, moving forward from the riverbank toward the campsite.
Spraying. Scoping.
More blue droplets glowed until they formed a virtual Milky Way of blood.
For the next half hour, Danton painstakingly worked in a pattern that radiated from the site.
Spraying. Scoping.
He was running low on solution and about to pack it in when something in the bush glowed.
Like a distant star.
A grapefruit-size rock with bluish smears. Danton examined it.
Now, this would be your murder weapon.
65
Great Falls, Montana
That night, beyond the pool, across the motel’s mani cured courtyard, the crack splitting the drawn curtains of the silent room moved ever so slightly.
Binoculars were trained on the units used by Graham and Maggie. The tranquility was deceptive. The watcher’s breathing had quickened.
Stay calm, Sid told himself.
Crickets chirped as he rolled the focus wheel. Sid and Faker had taken shifts in their intense sur veillance, for they’d reached a critical point in the operation; one underscored by the headlines of the newspapers neatly arrayed on the desk.
The pope would arrive in Montana in the morning. The network’s operation was advanced and proceeding. However, since Graham, the Alberta RCMP officer, had emerged in the U.S., Sid and Faker had been urging ter mination action. They knew there had been operational activity in Canada.
They could not permit anything to put the greater mission at risk.
A few days ago, after Sid and Faker had urged ter mination, they were ordered not to take any action, other than to observe and report.
But now, the stakes were higher. The threat was closer and gaining. They were running out of time and continued to press for termination action.
Faker was talking softly on the satellite phone. His voice was so low, Sid had to struggle to hear. At times, Faker would pull the phone away to whisper updates.
“Some of them are getting nervous,” he told Sid, “because the threat is getting close to the messenger.”
Of course, Sid nodded, the risk of the mission being shut down was huge.
“Some want us to remove the threat now. Others say it would jeopardize the operation, draw attention and lead to a cancellation, or more tougher security, or possible exposure of the network.”
Sid couldn’t bear the debate.
All of his life, from the day his teenaged mother had abandoned him in the pew of a Brooklyn church, he’d yearned to be part of something greater than himself. Ached to make his mark in history.
As Faker returned to the phone, Sid’s thoughts rolled back to all the work that had gone into this operation. Risks had been eliminated to get them to this stage. The termination operations in Virginia and Canada proved that threats to its success could be eliminated with efficiency.
“That’s it.” Faker finished the call. “Our orders are to take no action. We are to observe and report.”
Sid shook his head.
“Don’t they realize how close the Canadian cop is,” he said. “They are making a grave error.”
“I agree.” Faker joined Sid at the window with his own binoculars. “I’ve told the clerk at the desk that we’re investigating an infidelity case. I’ve bribed him to alert us to any movement.”
“Good, then contrary to orders, we’ll take action.”
“We will do whatever it takes to ensure success, my brother.”
Sid did not pull his eyes from his binoculars.
66
Great Falls, Montana
Nearly two hours before dawn, the motel phone next to Graham’s bed rang.
Half awake, he grabbed it on the first ring.
“Corporal Graham, it’s Teale in FIS. I’ve just e-mailed your photos to you.”
“Okay, hang on.” Graham got on to his computer, went into his e-mail, found the attachment and opened it. Jake Conlin stared back at him, bald, with a Vandyke beard, along with photos showing his left and right profiles. “Got it. Great. Thanks, Simon. Gotta go.”
Graham called Maggie’s room.
Some forty minutes later, they were back at the Sky Road Truck Mall.
Graham printed off copies of the photos in the twenty four-hour business office. They started in the big restau rant. The strains of country music, the smells of strong coffee, frying bacon and the clink of cutlery filled the air as they showed people Jake’s updated mug shot and asked for their help.
They approached bleary-eyed drivers coming off all night runs and early risers fixing to hit the road. They went from table to table, receiving head shakes, shrugs, a “looks familiar,” a “maybe, I don’t remember,” an “I’m not sure,” a “naw,” a “good luck” and “I’ll say a prayer for you.”
Maggie was growing anxious as they left the restau rant for the store.
At the checkout, the first person they went to was a tall man in a battered cowboy hat paying for toothpaste and shampoo. Maggie asked for his help.
