‘And the range of these chips?’
‘A couple of miles,’ Karim said. ‘All you need is a special antennae hooked up to a computer that has the right software. If you weren’t followed, Malcolm, then Santiago had to have been tagged with one of these RFID chips or some other type of hidden tracking device that emitted a signal powerful enough to allow his captors to pinpoint his location. It’s the only conceivable scenario.’
And one I failed to consider, Fletcher thought.
Karim propped an elbow on the door and massaged his forehead. In the silence that ensued, Fletcher contemplated what might have happened in Cape May. He surmised that Nathan Santiago had been removed from the premises. The question facing him was, had the woman and her partner decided to remain behind — or had they left people behind? They employed the services of at least two men: William Jenner and Marcus De Luca. Jenner’s home had been torched, but Fletcher couldn’t assume that either Jenner or his partner were dead. Were the former Baltimore patrolmen waiting at the Cape May house?
Fletcher considered tactics. Tall brush and scrub cedar bordered the driveway; even in daylight, the area would provide plenty of hiding spots where he could watch. With the downtown area a quarter of a mile away, an outside gunshot would sound no louder than a firecracker in the harsh ocean wind.
Shooting, however, would be foolish. Karim equipped all of his vehicles, even his personal ones, with bulletproof windows and special armour that could withstand a bomb.
‘How do you do it?’ Karim asked.
‘Do what?’
‘Unplug yourself from your emotions.’
‘I’m not uncaring, Ali.’
‘Looking at you — hearing you — I don’t get a sense that you’re… well, feeling anything.’
Fletcher didn’t answer.
They drove in silence.
‘Mathematics,’ Fletcher said.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The human body is nothing more than a complex energy system. It has a finite amount of resources. Focusing energy into endless speculation is a waste of time and, worse, a drain on mental resources. Better to channel my focus on the upcoming task.’
‘Malcolm,’ Karim said, drawing out the word, curls of smoke drifting from his nostrils, ‘there are times when I truly envy you.’
51
Fletcher insisted on making the final approach to the house alone. When he exited the car, he wanted Jenner, De Luca and whoever else was waiting in the house to think he’d come alone.
Karim’s Cape May home was on Whitney Avenue, a road that curved around a tall, sand-dusted hill upon which sat the house. It turned on to Greenview, the street that ran parallel to Whitney. Because of the narrow roads and the dangerous curve, street parking wasn’t allowed.
Fletcher took Greenview. Only one other home was near by, and both sides of the street were empty of vehicles. He drove where the road curved around a rocky shore and pulled onto Whitney. He saw no cars parked anywhere nearby. Fletcher drove past the driveway entrance for Karim’s home and continued straight ahead, looking for someone in a parked car and watching the beach house. He found no parked cars or people.
The small downtown area consisted of boutique stores, coffee houses, bistros and restaurants. The area was relatively quiet, given the winter season. A handful of people moved in and out of the various establishments, anxious to get out of the cold wind. A young white male bundled in a dark winter parka and wearing a charcoal- coloured woolly hat paced in front of a clothing store, smoking a cigarette and looking thoughtfully down the street, in the direction of Karim’s home.
Was he a spotter? Watching for someone to enter the driveway and then calling William Jenner? Fletcher checked all the cars parked in the meter spots along the street. They were mostly upscale models and they all had either New Jersey or New York plates. The vehicles were empty. The man he’d seen smoking tossed his cigarette into the wind and moved inside the store.
Fletcher pulled into a gas-station lot, turned and navigated his way back to the house. He handed the monocular to Karim.
‘When I reach the driveway, I want you to look for heat signatures in the surrounding brush before turning your attention to the house.’
Fletcher slowed and turned left. A slight bump and then the car climbed up the steep driveway. From the corner of his eye, he could see Karim’s pulse beating in his throat. His own heart rate remained unchanged.
Earlier, Karim had told him about the garage. With both remotes located inside the house, he had given Boyd Paulson a four-digit code to use on the keypad-entry system located on the outside of the garage. Reaching the top, Fletcher found the circular area clear and the garage-bay door hanging open, the black BMW parked inside. The door he’d entered last night — the porch door leading into the kitchen — was closed.
Karim searched the grounds with the monocular. Fletcher’s gaze swept the dunes, on the hunt for movement in the shaking brush and sea grass, the glint of a sniper scope — an unlikely scenario, but one he had to consider.
‘There’s no one out here,’ Karim said, and turned his attention to the house.
The garage, wide and windowless, was painted a dull white. The BMW was parked in the same spot it had been a few short hours ago. Fletcher’s roving gaze recorded what he saw now in the daylight, comparing these new images to the ones he had stored in his mind.
‘I’m not detecting any heat signatures inside the house,’ Karim said. ‘This device can see through a single wall but not multiple walls and floors, right?’
‘Correct.’ Fletcher pulled into the garage bay and looked at the security camera mounted in the right-hand corner, directly above the door leading to the portico that annexed the house. ‘The security camera’s light is blinking.’
‘Because the system’s offline,’ Karim said. ‘If they’re in there, they can’t watch us from the monitoring station.’
‘You mentioned earlier that it contained a hard drive.’ Fletcher had his attention on the rearview mirror, watching for movement. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Karim nod.
‘The drive is secured by a magnetic lock,’ Karim said. ‘If you don’t remove it with a special key, the drive is erased. I have the key with me.’
Fletcher put the car in park. Karim removed a sidearm — an updated version of John Browning’s legendary Colt design, the powerful BUL M-5 10-mm developed in cooperation with the Israeli Special Forces.
‘Stay here,’ Fletcher said, and withdrew the SIG from his shoulder holster.
He stepped out of the car. No one came running, and no shots were fired. He moved around the car and hit the garage-door button. The bay filled with the roar and clack of gears as the door lowered. He waited until it was halfway shut and then hand-signalled to Karim to kill the engine. Karim did and opened his door.
‘I’ll talk to you over this,’ Fletcher said, and handed over a small Bluetooth headset that clipped around an ear. ‘I’ll be wearing one as well.’
‘You’ve already found something, haven’t you?’
‘The garden hose on the side of the house, I used it last night. After I finished, I placed the spray nozzle back on top of the hanging rack. Now it’s lying against the ground.’
‘Maybe the wind knocked it down.’
Fletcher shook his head. ‘Someone used it recently,’ he said. ‘There are still some damp pockets on the garage floor that haven’t evaporated, and the remaining micro-fibre towels I saw last night on the shelves in here are missing, as well as three rolls of kitchen towel.’
Karim stared dumbfounded at the garage shelves.
‘I’ll contact you when I’ve secured the house,’ Fletcher said. ‘Until then, please remain here.’
