Assumed Identity

6

“You’d better get here pronto,” Duncan Bradley said into his cellular phone while he listened to the transmission from the house. “Something about the guy who showed up definitely rubbed Mendez against the grain. Mendez thinks the guy’s with us. They’re yelling at each other. Mendez is kicking him out.”

“Almost there. Just two blocks away,” Duncan’s partner said through the cellular phone.

“You might as well be two miles away.” Duncan stared at the green magnified night-vision image on his closed-circuit television screen. “I can see the dude coming off the lawn toward his car. He’ll be gone before you get here.”

“I told you I’m close. Can you see my headlights?”

Duncan glanced at another screen that showed the murky area behind his van. “Affirmative.”

“Perfect. When he pulls away, I’ll be just another car on the road,” Tucker said. “He won’t think anything when he sees my lights behind him.”

“He’s getting in his car,” Duncan emphasized.

“No problem. The license number you gave me.”

“What about it?”

“I accessed the Louisiana motor-vehicles computer. The Taurus belongs to a New Orleans car-rental agency.”

“That doesn’t tell us much,” Duncan said.

“There’s more. I phoned the agency. Pretended to be a state trooper. Said there’d been an accident. Wanted to know who’d rented the car.”

“And?”

“Brendan Buchanan. That’s the name on the rental agreement.”

Tucker’s headlights loomed larger on the rear-view television screen.

On the front-view screen, two blocks away, the Taurus’s lights came on. The car pulled away.

With a flash, Tucker’s Jeep Cherokee passed the van. Duncan pivoted his gaze from the night-vision television image and smiled toward the front windshield and the swiftly receding taillights of Tucker’s Jeep.

“See, I told you,” Tucker said through the cellular phone. “No sweat. I’m on him. No headlights pulling away from the curb behind him. Nothing to make him suspicious.”

“Brendan Buchanan?” Duncan wondered. “Who the hell is Brendan Buchanan? And what’s his connection with the woman?”

“The head office is checking on him.” Tucker’s taillights diminished to red specks as he followed the even-more-minute specks of the Taurus. “Meantime, I’ll find out where he’s staying. We’ll pay him a visit. We’ll find out all we need to know about Brendan Buchanan.”