The Vanishing Point

48

Stephanie looked down at her hands, her shoulders slumped. The colour had drained from her face. No more English rose now. It looked to Vivian as if the events of the day had finally caught up with her witness. There was only so much adrenalin the body could pump out. Realistically, she was going to have to decide what to do with Stephanie pretty soon. There was no reason to keep her in custody. There was no question that she was a material witness, but there was also no reason to suppose she would flee the country and refuse to give her testimony at any future proceedings. Vivian did not have Stephanie pegged as someone who would go on the run the minute she was a free agent.

Nevertheless it was clear from her story that there was going to be a media storm around her, even if it was only on behalf of the British media. Vivian wanted to provide Stephanie with protection on that score. Since taking her into custody would be an extreme overreaction, it might be best to book her into an airport hotel under an assumed name.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

Stephanie shrugged. ‘Drained,’ she said. ‘I’m exhausted, but I’m too wound up to sleep.’ Not that she felt like trying. The last thing she wanted was to open the door to the nightmares Jimmy’s disappearance might provoke. Her waking imagination was bad enough.

‘Why do you think they chose to abduct Jimmy here? At an airport in the USA?’ Vivian asked. ‘I’m still curious. It seems unnecessarily complicated. Surely there must have been easier options back in the UK?’

Stephanie ran a hand through her hair. ‘Christ, I don’t know. Maybe they’re trying to draw attention away from themselves.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If Jimmy had been snatched in the UK, the authorities would have focused on a tight circle of suspects. Who knows him? Who hates me? Who had access to him? Over here, you’re forced to consider a wider picture. It makes you think, “No, wait, it can’t be as straightforward as it seems, otherwise why not do it in the UK?” ’

Before Vivian could respond, a tap at the door was swiftly followed by Don Abbott’s head and shoulders. ‘Sorry to interrupt again,’ he said. ‘Can we have a word, Agent McKuras?’

Vivian raised a finger at Stephanie and scrambled to her feet. As soon as the door closed behind her, she raised her eyebrows in a question. ‘News?’ she asked eagerly.

‘Kind of,’ Abbott said. He rubbed his eyes. ‘I tell you, the one thing I’m not going to do when I finally get home is watch TV. My eyes are fried.’ He produced a tired smile. ‘We’ve made a little bit of progress. We now know where he changed his clothes. The control room are sending a clip of CCTV footage to your computer. They eventually found the bathroom the perp comes out of in his TSA lookalike outfit. Then they had the pain-in-the-ass job of pairing up every guy who went in with the image of him coming out. I tell you, Vivian, you might think you got a tough assignment today, but you should be down on your knees thanking God that you haven’t been staring at CCTV footage till your eyes bleed.’

‘I’m grateful. Trust me. Did you get anything?’

He nodded. ‘Guy comes in wearing a black tee and black trousers, ball cap, carrying a lightweight nylon backpack. But get this. He’s got a beard and moustache. Doesn’t look like the kidnapper worth a damn. And he never comes out again. It’s our man, Vivian.’

She felt a bubble of excitement in her chest. ‘That’s terrific news! We need to get that image out there. Somebody must have sat next to him on a plane. We’re on his trail now. What about the backpack? Where does that go? Have we got someone going through the trash from that bathroom?’

Abbott gave an exasperated sigh. ‘You’re right that he left the backpack behind. The bad news is that the bathroom was cleaned two hours after the perp was in there. The trash bag is somewhere in a mountain of crap. Assuming we had the bodies and the will to sort through it, and assuming we found it, the chain of custody’s already up in smoke. We can’t do anything worth a damn with it. It’s gone, Vivian.’

‘Shit. Are the guys in the control room backtracking to the gate he came into?’

‘Even as we speak. But don’t hold your breath for any substantial leads coming from that. This has run like clockwork. He’s not going to have flown on his own ID. He’ll have a fake driver’s licence. Or something stolen.’

‘I know. But it’s all we’ve got.’

‘Nothing to go on from the witness?’

Vivian shrugged. ‘A couple of possible leads. But nothing that would hold up in a high wind. I’ll let her take a look at the new CCTV material, see if she recognises anyone. Don’t hold your breath, though.’