Genotech Labs and Dr. Tyson Phillips were more likely candidates for pulling an all-nighter. Getting onto the grounds of the lab would be a major undertaking, with all the security, but maybe they didn't need to get inside the walls. Besides, if they got thrown in jail for trespassing, Charboneau would pay the price. Jasmine agreed with his assessment.
Yet he still needed a heads-up from a local, someone familiar with the tribes. By now Chief Zharan might have Duarte's surveillance recordings from the hotel. Maybe he would know Rodrigo Santo, the guy with the AK-47.
'So . . . you think we can trust Chief Zharan?' he asked Jasmine.
She stared at him, considering the question. To her credit, she didn't cut his throat for even thinking it. Sometimes, it was the little things that could perk a guy up.
'I am not a good one to ask about the trustworthy nature of anyone in law enforcement. Why?'
'We need a next step, and he may know Rodrigo Santo or whatever his real name is. Maybe Zharan can recommend someone who knows the local tribes.' He shrugged. 'And if Duarte had a line on Mr. AK-47, he would've already taken steps to bring him in for questioning or covered the guy's tracks. If we ask him right, Zharan might tell us which.'
She pursed her lips and nodded. Neon lights and a dying sun reflected off the sunglasses she still wore. 'It's worth a shot.'
Christian pulled out Chief Zharan's business card from his wallet and placed the call. With a hand stuffed into his pocket and the other holding the phone, he leaned against a brick storefront on the street. Jasmine paced in front of him, eyes alert.
Zharan answered on the second ring. 'Chief Zharan.'
'This is Christian Delacorte.'
'Yes, Mr. Delacorte. Please, what can I do for you?'
'I was wondering if you'd seen the hotel surveillance on the Charboneau kidnapping yet.'
'Yes, I've reviewed it. How can I help?' Strong and self-assured, the chief's voice gave him comfort.
Jasmine crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, trying to read Christian's reaction to what the chief had to say.
'It's my understanding that a man named Rodrigo Santo worked at the hotel and may have been one of the men who kidnapped Charboneau. Do you know this man?'
'No, I'm sorry. I don't.'
'I doubt that Santo is his real name, but was Captain Duarte searching for him?'
Silence. Christian heard Zharan sigh on the phone. Jasmine started to pace again.
'Unfortunately, Captain Duarte had not pursued the matter. I'm sure he would have eventually, but rest assured, I have issued a bulletin for Santo. I will get to the bottom of this very soon.'
The chief covered for Duarte like any good supervisor would, but he did not lie. Instead, he focused on the positive of the investigation moving forward. Christian respected him for that.
'Santo may have connections to a local tribe. Can you suggest someone who might know the area natives? I'd like to speak to them.'
Jasmine turned and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Christian's reaction.
'Are you sure you want to do that, Mr. Delacorte? These tribes can live in remote areas, and generally would not tolerate being accused of kidnapping. I'm concerned for your safety.'
'I appreciate that, Chief, but I have to do something. If you don't want to get involved, I understand. I can pursue this on my own.'
It took a while for the man to answer. Christian didn't want to alienate him, but he'd follow this lead whether he got Zharan's endorsement or not.
'Actually, Mr. Delacorte, I do commend your perseverance. But my task force has already made several inquiries. I don't want to get your hopes up, but we've narrowed down some possibilities. Please don't do anything until you hear what I have to say.'
Zharan shared what he had so far. The details were sketchy, but the new lead gave him hope. Finally.
'I'll call you tomorrow at your hotel when my men have something. We're working through the night.' Zharan cleared his throat. 'And Mr. Delacorte? Please know that I intend to oversee this investigation myself. Nothing will happen without me knowing about it.'
'I appreciate that, Chief Zharan. Thank you.' Christian ended the call.
Despite the good news of a fresh lead, he felt his belly twist into a tight knot. If Zharan hadn't taken Captain Duarte off the case, they would have been back to square one. Precious time had slipped through their fingers—all because of Duarte's clever stall tactics. Christian wondered if the captain had been paid to look the other way or was involved up to his eyeballs with a much larger pay out.
With a long waiting game ahead, he needed something to fill the void or he'd go stir crazy. He glared through Jasmine, not really seeing her.
'Zharan's working through the night. I think we oughta do the same. I've got an idea.'
Military Police Headquarters
Duarte's office
With his door locked and only minimal lighting, Captain Duarte sat at his desk. Only a skeleton crew worked the night shift in the detective's bullpen outside his office. He didn't want anyone else to know he stayed behind, with other things on his mind.
His jaw tight, Duarte pulled off the headset and stopped the recording. The telephone conversation between the American and his chief still played in his head.
The chief was building a case against him. No surprise. He had seen it coming long before today. But with Christian Delacorte knowing about Rodrigo Santo's role in the kidnapping, Chief Zharan would be forced to act. The American had tipped the first domino, leaving him no way out.
Timing would be everything.
'You were warned, Christian Delacorte,' he whispered as he picked up the phone to make a call. 'You can't say I never warned you.'
CHAPTER 12
Dr. Phillips slipped away from dinner with his family to take the call in his study, pretending it pertained to a situation at the lab. He knew he might need the excuse later, something to rell his wife when he would leave in the middle of the night. Phillips hoped it wouldn't come to that, but his luck had been flushed down the toilet long ago.
He reported what happened on the tour with the Americans.
'I'm telling you, Delacorte's going to be trouble. He asked way too many questions. Good questions. And Jasmine gave me the creeps. She stared at me like I was food.' Dr. Phillips gripped the phone, trying to mask his unsteady nerves. 'I think they know what's going on.'
'They know nothing.' The man didn't hide his perverse amusement. 'Don't ever play poker, my friend. You wouldn't be good at it.'
'This isn't a game. I don't want—'
'I don't care what you want or don't want.'
Phillips shut his eyes. He was afraid to ask the question on his mind, but he had to know. 'Are we
