“Yes.”
“I’ll be damned,” she said. “It’s a phone identity module.”
“SIM card?” Nate asked.
“Something like that.”
She turned back to her computer and brought up the black screen with the two empty data boxes. She filled the first box, then typed the remaining characters into the second one. But this time, instead of having only five digits for the second box, there were nine.
“These last two,” she said. “That’s where you got the ‘LP’ from, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I showed the paper to Blackmoore, and that’s the only thing that meant anything to him.”
“Well, I can officially tell you they have nothing to do with the other numbers,” she said. “They’re extraneous.”
“You’re sure?” Quinn asked.
“Absolutely.”
So whatever the “LP” meant, the two letters were a message unto themselves.
“You know,” Orlando said, holding up the piece of paper, “if you’d shown me this earlier, I could have told you what it was.”
Nate snorted. “I believe I made that very suggestion.”
“Just show me where it points,” Quinn said.
Orlando hit Enter. Again the screen went all black for a moment. When the map appeared, it was a familiar one. Asia again.
“The good news is the chip is still active,” Orlando said.
She started zooming in before Quinn saw where the blue dot was. Once more, the image closed in on the Malay Peninsula jutting south from Thailand. Only this time, it bypassed Kuala Lumpur, going further south down the peninsula before stopping above an island off the tip.
“How about that?” Quinn said. “Singapore.”
Orlando continued letting the map zoom in. Yellow lines started to outline the bay, then the Singapore River. Quinn began identifying the different quays: Boat, Clarke, Robertson. The map continued to zoom in, going further in than it had when tracking the cell phone. Streets began appearing, then the outlines of buildings.
When the program could get no closer, the zoom stopped. There in the center of the screen was a single building on the edge of the river. And in the center of the building, the blue dot—now as big as a bottle cap—pulsed on and off.
CHAPTER
“I’M GETTING OUT,” MARKOFF SAID.
“Right,” Quinn told him.
They were on a twenty-one-foot Luger sailboat on Mission Bay in California. Markoff had rented the sloop for the entire week, but this had been the first day they’d taken it out.
They were sitting near the stern, Markoff steering the boat while Quinn sat nearby, drinking a rum and Coke from a plastic cup.
“I mean it,” Markoff said. “Not everything. But out of the field. They’ve offered me a desk job.”
Quinn was having a hard time imagining Markoff stuck in some office, going to policy meetings and shuffling paperwork all day.
He looked toward the opening that led down into the small galley where Jenny was changing into her swimsuit. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he asked.
Markoff smiled. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ve crossed over into a world I’m not familiar with,” Quinn said, then took a drink.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. You might want to try it someday.”
“Doubtful.”
They both laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Jenny stood on the steps leading out of the galley. She was wearing a white one-piece swimsuit that showed every curve and contrasted nicely with her brown skin. On her head was a large floppy hat, also white.
The conversation turned to the weather, to the ocean, to the beautiful day. Quinn watched as his friend interacted with Jenny. There was a change in Markoff, a mellowing. It surprised Quinn, and though he didn’t want to admit it, it also made him a bit jealous. For the afternoon, he wanted what they had.
But he knew that was one thing that would never happen.
“Eleven a.m.,” Peter said.
“And he was okay with the location?” Quinn asked. He was sitting on one of the benches in Union Square, near the Financial District in San Francisco. Nate was standing nearby, keeping an eye on the morning crowd.
