The Mark

19

“Joe, we got another hit.”

Mauser strode over to the large roadmap Denton had hung in the conference room. Red pushpins had been stuck in at every checkpoint where Amanda Davies’s E-Z Pass had registered. Mauser studied the chain of pins, in his mind extrapolating their path.

Jersey City, New Jersey.

Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Columbus, Ohio.

The line extended straight to St. Louis.

“Where’s this new one?”

“I-70 West, heading toward Cincinnati. Assuming they’re headed to St. Louis, Amanda Davies and Henry Parker should arrive by midnight.”

Mauser felt a surge of adrenaline. The conversation with Linda was still fresh in his mind. Parker was running. The fucking guy was trying to get away with it.

“The hell with this,” Mauser said. “I want to be in the air in half an hour. And another thing.” He looked Denton right in the eye, lowered his voice. He checked the door; it was closed. “I don’t want St. Louis PD in the loop. Not yet.”

“Joe?” Denton said, a hint of concern on his face. “What’re you gonna do?”

Mauser’s voice was granite, not a hint of indecisiveness.

“When we take Parker down, we take him down our way. Not one word about procedure or extradition. Henry Parker deserves to go down hard, and I don’t want anyone there to soften his landing.”

“Joe,” Denton said, his voice imploring. “Remember there are other factors here. The drugs, number one. If Parker has info on Luis and Christine Guzman’s supplier, maybe we take down two birds on this case. I say we find the package and milk that.”

Again, Mauser thought, with the career aspirations. More cases for superstar FBI agent Leonard Denton to solve. Fuck it. If it meant Denton worked harder, saw more angles, his delusions of grandeur were acceptable.

“Fine,” Mauser said, throwing on his overcoat and heading for the door. “Before we take Parker down, we’ll bleed him dry.”

Denton smiled and grabbed the car keys. “I hear ‘death by a thousand cuts’is popular these days. I’ll help you make the first incision.”