Freezing

correct in assuming your profiles go national.’

‘Or if you’re dealing with data on missing persons,’ resumed Lex. ‘It could be someone who wants to get stuff for identity theft while the owner’s AWOL. Whatever it turns out to be, we know your outside line was tapped and whoever did it didn’t need to gain entry to put it on. They’ll know you’ve disabled it. We want to come back and sweep in a month’s time.’

He had been filling out some boxes on a clipboard. ‘Here’s the invoice for this location. Payment address at the bottom.’ He ripped off a carbon copy and gave Jayne the top sheet. ‘Now, about the apartment location. Carol here said that the tap in the Ziploc bag was found on the outside phone line under the stairs?’

Jayne nodded.

‘But you had it swept?’

‘Eric and Scott said there wasn’t anything inside the apartment.’

‘Good.’ Lex turned the Ziploc around in his hands and passed it to Michael. ‘Listen, this tap from your place is identical to the one we found here so our opinion is that whatever you’re dealing with is related to your work somehow as it’s unlikely a Peeping Tom wants to hear your work calls. And it’s someone nearby or a person who can get near to you. This little sucker isn’t going to be useful for anyone at a great distance. You could consider getting more security for your property.’

Michael added, ‘Alarming the building isn’t enough when people don’t need access to plant a device.’

Steelie’s voice was flat. ‘I think we’re getting that picture.’

Michael gathered up his briefcases and held up the bag with the tap in it. ‘You guys want these or you want me to take ’em?’

‘You can have them,’ answered Jayne.

As soon as the two men had left the building, Steelie said, ‘We’re going to have to tell Scott and Eric.’

‘That we inadvertently gave their case some exposure? Absolutely,’ agreed Jayne.

‘You couldn’t have known,’ said Carol.

Steelie was matter of fact. ‘That doesn’t matter. Those two agents are in the middle of a homicide investigation and they passed an ID over what turns out was an open line.’

Jayne pulled out her cell. When she got Scott’s voicemail, she left a message simply asking him to call, without referring to the bugging, intending to explain more fully when they spoke.

At eight minutes past seven on Monday night, Eric had again taken his position in front of the surveillance screen in the camper. Scott was in the bathroom when Eric said, ‘Someone’s coming to the party.’

Scott emerged from the bathroom quickly, tucking in his shirt. He saw Eric turn up the volume on the audio feed and press Record on both the video and audio screens. On the video screen, a tall man dressed in sweat pants was doing something at the back of the van. The audio relayed the sound of a key being inserted into a lock.

‘Which house did he come from?’ Scott asked quietly.

‘Garage of fifteen-oh-one.’

On the screen, the man pulled a thick metal chain from between the rear door handles, opened the doors, and jumped in. The doors closed before they could see the interior of the van and then they heard the sound of a padlock being closed.

Eric put on a headset to focus on the audio while Scott tried to monitor both stations. The video screen remained static. The sound of someone moving around. Another lock being turned, then a hydraulic sound. A voice came through, somewhat muffled. Scott glanced sharply at his partner, brow furrowed. Eric shook his head. He hadn’t understood the words either.

The audio feed hummed, then the sound of locks again. The man emerged from the rear of the van and suddenly bent down by the corner of the rear bumper. Scott couldn’t see what the man was doing until he twisted to look under the van. Something narrow and dark was dangling down from the van to the ground. It hadn’t been visible on the surveillance screen before because the bumper camouflaged it.

‘What the hell is that?’ asked Scott, pointing at the screen.

‘He’s not saying anything,’ Eric said, his voice slightly raised.

Scott leaned in closer to the screen but that didn’t help. The man replaced the chain through the van’s door handles, locked the padlock, and walked back to the garage. His gait was unhurried and he didn’t look around. As soon as he was out of the frame, Scott said, ‘What did he say when he was inside?’

‘It sounded like “Good for my pincers”.’ Eric looked at him.

‘Go over that again until you can confirm it.’ Scott sounded edgy. He noticed Eric’s expression and lightened his tone. ‘And make it make sense.’

Eric smiled grimly and rewound the audio.

Scott sat at the monitoring station and used another screen to run the video back. He enhanced the image until it was just pixels and then zoomed it back out again, considering and rejecting conclusions as he did so. Suddenly, he pushed away from the counter, swiveled in his seat to a cabinet behind him and pulled out a file. Inside were eight sheets of smooth fax paper stapled together. He flipped the pages over one by one, quickly scanning the top of each sheet. When he got to the final sheet, he swore.

Eric had turned around to look at him and now pulled off the headset. ‘What?’

‘This fax from Phoenix PD?’ Scott waved the sheets in the air. ‘It’s got pages one through eight of a nine page document.’

Eric groaned. ‘That fucking fax machine.’

Scott was up and trying to pace in the tiny camper.

Eric asked, ‘What do you think was on page nine?’

‘How about, “Yeah, we’ve got your gold van out here and guess what? It’s got an electrical extension cord running out its back end and into fifteen-oh-one”?’ He threw the papers on to the monitoring station, pulled his chair up next to Eric, and sat down again. Eric stared at the screen. ‘You’re probably right about that being an extension cord. Who lives in fifteen-oh-one again?’ He picked up the papers. ‘The Spicers. Sally and Frank.’ He put them back on the counter. ‘About the fax. I should have checked it when I grabbed it on Friday.’

Scott slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Doesn’t matter. Page nine might have just said, “Drive safe, boys”. Whatever it said, we’ll confirm the extension cord tonight.’

Eric nodded. He rewound the tape and pushed Pause. ‘I’m going with “Gold for my princess” on the audio.’

He pushed Play. The man’s voice came through more clearly this time. Now it sounded loving and triumphant: ‘Gold for my princess.’

SIXTEEN

A bathrobe-clad Frank Spicer first turned on his porch light and then opened his front door at 1501 Prickly Pear Close to find four people on his doorstep. They had been pounding on it for the entire minute it had taken him to get to the front of the house. Two were men holding Federal Bureau of Investigation badges open towards him. The other two were wearing Phoenix Police Department uniforms. One of the FBI people handed him some papers. The front page had WARRANT typed across it in letters big enough for Frank to read without his glasses. He did need glasses for the rest of it, so he invited the authorities into the house. After all, he had nothing to hide.

As it turned out, the law enforcement officers did not want to search his house. It had all been a mistake, as Frank was sure it would be. They wanted to search that old van parked in front of their house, a vehicle they had nothing to do with. Frank told them that and his wife, Sally, seconded him, now that she had joined them in the front room, wearing a pink terrycloth muumuu.

‘That’s right, the van isn’t ours. We have a Saturn. It’s in the driveway.’

‘Ma’am,’ the blond FBI agent said. ‘The van has an extension cord running into your garage.’

She reared back. ‘I beg your pardon?’ She crossed to the window, pulling her husband with her. ‘Frank, had you noticed that?’ She looked at him in wonder.

Frank felt tired. ‘No, I sure didn’t.’

She appealed to the four people standing like statues in her living room. ‘We’ve been out of town for a few