The Soul Collectors

70

Sergey gripped the edge of the table, staring at a small microphone attached to a battery that had been hidden inside the USB. The listening device had been glued down to keep it from moving, the mike affixed underneath the USB's tiny heat vent so it could eavesdrop on conversations like the one they'd just had.

Casey had seen it too. He had moved out from the corner and now stood behind Sergey, leaning over his shoulder. Both faces were pale, slick with perspiration.

'We're screwed,' Darby said.

Both men looked up at her.

'No evidence, no leads,' she said, the frustration clear in her voice. 'Every avenue we've explored leads to another dead end.'

Casey nodded and played along: 'We still have the USB drive. The computer guys — '

'It's a wipe,' Darby said. 'No digital fingerprints. There's nothing on the video that can help us. We won't find them that way.'

'What about the safe house? They had to have left something behind.'

'I read the report. They found nothing. I'm sorry, Jack, but we don't have any evidence. These people are too smart at covering their tracks.' A long, tired sigh, and then Darby said, 'I need a break, grab some coffee.'

'I think we could all use one,' Sergey said, standing. 'Let's meet back here in fifteen.'

They regrouped in the adjoining room, in the far corner near the corkboard holding the yellowing photographs for the missing children from 1945 to 1972.

Darby took the lead. 'It's minor damage.'

Sergey's jaw dropped. 'Minor damage? They just overheard that entire call. And that USB drive has been floating around from person to person. It's been sitting on desks inside the lab where people have been talking about evidence. Jesus.'

Sergey pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Casey, arms across his chest, stared at the children smiling at him from the board.

'There's nothing we can do. It's over,' Darby said. 'But it's still a lucky break.'

Casey spoke. 'Radio frequency.'

'Exactly,' she said. 'All we need to do is find out what radio frequency that listening device is set to and track it down. You have that kind of equipment on board?'

'I'm not sure,' Sergey said. 'Let me talk to our tech guys.'

'Wait, before you go, what were you about to say before I cut you off?'

'I have a potential lead. Our forensic entomologist identified the bee you found and called a conservation biologist from the University of Connecticut, this guy named James Wright. He's on the phone, holding.'

'Any other place where we can talk to him?'

'No, not at the moment. We have only one of those conference-phone units set up.'

'Get the USB drive out of there,' Darby said. 'Pack it away someplace where it can't do any more damage and then meet us back at the conference room.' Darby took her original seat. Casey leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and Sergey sat on the edge of the table next to the conference-room phone.

Sergey pressed a button. 'Mr Wright?'

'Still here,' replied a nasal and reedy voice.

'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. Thank you for holding.

'Mr Wright, I have two people sitting with me right now: Jack Casey and the person who discovered the bee, Dr Darby McCormick. She's also one of our special investigators. I've told them who you are and how you came to us, so in the interests of saving time go ahead and summarize what you told me about the bee.'

'The bee,' Wright said, 'is a silver-haired species known as Epeoloides pilosula. They're very rare in New England. In fact, we thought the species was extinct. The last time one was spotted was in Needham, Massachusetts, back in 1927. Then, a little over a year ago, I discovered one here in Connecticut, in the south-eastern part of the state — in a power line corridor, of all places. That's what made my study so controversial. I won't bore you with the details, as I know you're pressed for time, but suffice to say people think these power line corridors — or transmission corridors, as they're more commonly referred to — are disruptive to the environment. When you carve out a section of forest, you don't expect to discover, decades later, a rare species of bee that was generally considered extinct to be thriving underneath power lines, of all places.

'But that's exactly what happened — and is still happening. Because of the excavation, and the considerable care taken to prune trees to a height that won't disrupt the power lines, we are, in essence, re-creating what I guess you could call a meadow in which dwindling insects like bees can thrive as well as other animals and plants. Needless to say, most of the conservation groups are up in arms about this.'

Darby said, 'What about Massachusetts? Have there been any confirmed sightings?'

'It's possible these silver-hairs are thriving somewhere in Massachusetts, but, if they are, no one has reported it. I spoke with several of my New England colleagues — we're a small group — and not one of them has any documented sightings of Epeoloides pilosula. As far as I know, the transmission corridor here in Connecticut is the only area where these silver-hair bees have been discovered.'

'Do they or can they live in someplace like a basement or cellar?'

'I'm not sure I understand your question.'

'Would these bees seek shelter in someplace like a house? We're already well into autumn, and my understanding is bees can't thrive in cool weather.'

'Ah, now I see where you're heading. As I'm sure you're all well aware, we've been experiencing several climate changes in the last decade. Warmer winters and sometimes we don't even have a spring, we head right into the start of summer. And several times since the start of October, we've hit temperatures in the high seventies, so it's not uncommon to see bees and other insects during these periods.

'Now, to answer the question about their seeking shelter inside a house, the answer is no, absolutely not,' Wright said. 'This species feeds on yellow loosestrife. It's not a houseplant but rather one that lives outside and grows in shady banks or wetlands. That's where I discovered my Epeoloides pilosula, feeding on the yellow loosestrife. And I should note that the bee you found was, in fact, dead.'

In her mind's eye Darby pictured Mark Rizzo being dragged across the woods, across dried pine needles, leaves and now this bee making its way into his mouth.

'This transmission corridor,' she said. 'Where is it?'

'Off Route 163 in south-eastern Connecticut,' Wright said. 'You can access it easily from the highway, and you can drive down the path since it's… I'd say, oh, roughly three hundred feet or so wide.'

Darby had no intention of driving down it. 'How isolated is this area?'

'I'd say very.'

'Any old homes or buildings in the area? Cemeteries?'

'Nothing but miles and miles of woods.'

'Any of it excavated?'

'Not to my knowledge, but then again I can't say I've explored the entire area.'

She turned back to Sergey. He didn't have any questions and looked at Casey, who shook his head.

Sergey said, 'Mr Wright, I'd like to ask you to stick close to your phone in case we have any additional questions.'

'Of course, of course. You have all my numbers?'

'I do. Again, thank you for your help.'

Sergey hung up and said to Darby: 'Let's hear it.'

'Hear what?'

'This plan you've got cooking.'