He was reminded of the Greek hero Odysseus, standing on his ship and watching the smoke of family fires visible on the shore of his home, Ithaca. Believing he was safe, Odysseus slept. While he did so, his companions cut open their master’s ox-hide sack and, instead of the gold they had sought, found only King Aeolus’s adverse winds, which drove Odysseus’s ships across the leagues of ocean.
Malcolm Fletcher, forever homeless, contained one navigational rudder, and it directed him back to Baltimore.
59
Borgia stared at the empty gurney inside the back of the ambulance. He felt like he had just been kicked in the stomach.
So close, so goddamn close…
Federal agents from the New Jersey office were working in conjunction with local and state police to assist in the manhunt. The New York office had also been alerted and was coordinating efforts with their local law enforcement. Roadblocks were being set up at every tollbooth. Cars were being searched; local buildings were being searched. Any stolen car was being put on the watch list. Borgia had alerted the bureau’s Media Office to get the news played on the radio and TV.
Almost an hour had passed since Fletcher’s escape and so far nothing had come of it.
Borgia turned away from the ambulance. There was nothing more to do here. He had already been inside the hospital and spoken with the paramedic who had tended to Karim. Fletcher hadn’t killed the man, had merely rendered him unconscious by squeezing off the carotid artery. Fletcher, it seemed, had waited to the last moment to do it too; wanting to make sure, Borgia suspected, that Karim had been stabilized.
Karim was still in surgery. According to one of the ER nurses, he had suffered a lot of internal injuries, and lost a significant amount of blood. Nonetheless, Karim, was in very good hands.
Borgia had a long conversation with FBI Director Oberst on the way back to Karim’s home. The man was understandably upset. It had been Oberst who had given the order to take down Ali Karim.
There was one silver lining: there was no recorded evidence of Special Agent Danny Jackman staging the crime scene. And then there was Karim. If he survived, no one would believe that Jackman had attacked him. The man had knowingly hidden a wanted fugitive, one who had then turned around and murdered a federal agent before escaping. The Bureau had Karim bang to rights on those two matters — and there were plenty of additional nails with which to hammer shut Karim’s coffin. One of Karim’s employees had been shot and killed, dumped in the trunk of a BMW conveniently parked inside the garage. Karim would have to answer for that — and he would have to explain the dried blood on the bed and rubbish bin inside the treatment room. Better for Karim to die on the operating table than face what was waiting for him if he survived.
Emergency Response Technicians from the New York field office were on their way down to process the evidence. A separate team armed with the proper warrants had been dispatched to search every square inch of Karim’s Manhattan home.
SOC Cronin would take the hit for Fletcher’s escape. Fletcher had slipped through his fingers. Borgia recommended to the Director that Cronin should be served up as bleeding meat for the media. The Director agreed, and Borgia spent the rest of their phone call strategizing the best way to spin the story.
Brandon Arkoff pinned Nathan Santiago’s face against the operating table as Marie swivelled the light to the man’s bare back. With her fingers she prodded the middle area between the shoulder blades — there it was.
Santiago flinched when he felt the scalpel. He tried to fight it but his wrists had been tied.
Another hit with the Taser settled him.
Marie picked up tweezers, reached inside the fresh incision and removed a glass capsule the size of a Tic Tac. She doubted the people who had abducted Santiago knew about the RFID tag, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. She carried the tag to a wall-mounted steel table and smashed it with a hammer. She collected the fragments and washed them down the sink.
Brandon stepped up to her and said, ‘The police could be on their way here.’
Marie shook her head as she washed her hands. Santiago moaned from the table.
‘They can’t find us,’ she said.
‘Why take the chance?’
‘You know why. Santiago has a rare blood type. His first kidney went for two hundred thousand, and now we’ve got a buyer lined up to pay half a million for the other. The other buyers we have lined up — ’
‘I know what they’re offering.’
‘And you’re willing to walk away from it?’
‘We have more than enough money to survive.’
Marie dried her hands on her coat.
‘Get him ready for surgery.’
‘She’s not going to do it,’ Brandon said.
‘I’ll talk to her. Woman to woman.’
60
Fletcher had exchanged the Camry for a white BMW parked inside an Atlantic City hotel garage free of security cameras. He had also changed his appearance.
After ditching the blood-stained tactical trousers, he entered a hotel and washed up in the lobby’s private bathroom. The small lobby shop offered a garish assortment of clothing. He purchased a roomy windbreaker with ATLANTIC CITY embossed on the back to hide his tactical belt and then ditched the jacket after purchasing several new items from a store that specialized in outdoor clothing and gear.
From a drugstore he purchased blond hair dye and a self-tanning lotion. He dyed his hair and eyebrows inside a gas-station bathroom, cleaned up, and was now back on the road, heading for Baltimore.
He dialled M’s cell. When she didn’t answer, he removed the battery.
Fletcher had tried to call her twice over the past hour and she hadn’t answered.
He phoned again just as he was nearing Newark, and she picked up.
‘The FBI has locked down Karim’s home.’ M’s voice was cool, almost robotic. ‘I couldn’t get anywhere near it.’
The Jaguar had his prints all over it, hair and fibres. The contact lenses stored in the console would contain his DNA. Locked in the trunk were his cases full of tools and equipment; more damning evidence against Karim — if they could get inside the car. Unless they found the hidden key, there was no way they could open the car. The windows were shatterproof.
M said, ‘Karim’s personal bodyguard, a man named Bar Lev, is at the hospital along with some other trusted people. I don’t have an update for you — Karim is still in surgery. Karim’s lawyer is there. He insisted on meeting me before he drove down to New Jersey. Karim had given him explicit instructions to hand-deliver a package to me in the event he died or was incapacitated in any way. I have two envelopes here with me, one of which belongs to you.
‘Federal investigators are at our main office right now, armed with warrants. They’re pulling security tapes, raiding the computer network, everything.’
‘Did Karim give the evidence bag holding the drinking glass to the lab?’
‘I have it here with me,’ she said. ‘I can’t drop it off. I spotted three men trying to follow me. I think they’re federal agents.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘I ditched their tail. They don’t know where I am.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Someplace where they can’t find me,’ she said. ‘Karim gave me explicit instructions to help you, and that’s
