Blood Money

Chapter Fifty-Two

Andie’s surveillance and apprehension team quickly shifted gears to abduction and recovery mode. The FBI communications van was at the exit to the parking garage, poised to speed down Biscayne Boulevard. Andie was buckled into the passenger seat with tech support on the line.

“I need a location,” she said, her patience waning.

“No GPS reading,” her tech agent said.

“Damn.” Andie was certain that Merselus had found Sydney because she had screwed up the FBI’s directions on how to disarm GPS tracking on her iPhone.

“We’re triangulating now,” tech said.

Andie crossed her fingers. The electronic pulse that every cell phone in the power-on mode transmitted to cell towers every eight seconds was distinct from GPS tracking, but the process of triangulating between a cell phone and towers took more time.

“Got it,” he said, and he gave her an approximate address, give or take a hundred-yard radius. Triangulation was less precise than GPS. “That’s the best we can do.”

“That’s on the river.”

“North of the Brickell Avenue Bridge,” he said. “I’m sending you the coordinates now.”

“Send them team-wide,” said Andie. “And thanks.”

The driver hit the gas, and the tires squealed as the van raced out of the parking garage. They were headed south on Biscayne Boulevard as Andie confirmed backup and got on the line with Special Agent Crenshaw, whose team was already on the move in a black FBI SWAT van.

Crenshaw asked, “How current are the coordinates?”

“About four minutes ago.”

“Four minutes? They could be five miles from there by now.”

“It’s all we’ve got to go on for now.”

“How about an update?”

“Not likely. Our guess is that he texted rather than called to try to keep the phone on for less than eight seconds. He barely missed it. We got one reading when he sent the text, which by itself may not have been enough for us to triangulate. Got a second pulse just before the phone was powered off, which gave us a little more data to work with. I wouldn’t expect him to turn on the phone again and send another pulse.”

“Did you issue a BOLO?”

Andie understood the point of his question. A be-on-the-lookout alert could draw everyone into the conflict-from local police to the neighborhood crime watch. Or even the media.

“BOLO went out three minutes ago,” said Andie.

“Shit,” said Crenshaw.

“Had to do it,” said Andie. “If they’re speeding down I-95, I need highway patrol in the loop.”

“Be on the lookout for what, though? Do you honestly think Sydney Bennett looks anything like what she looked like in trial?”

“Probably not. But we have a decent image of Merselus that we lifted from a snippet of enhanced video taken by a Coast Guard officer of him and Sydney on the runway at Opa-locka Airport. He may not even know we have it, so it may be helpful.”

“Send me that now,” said Crenshaw. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you supplement the BOLO with the usual multijurisdictional caveat.”

“And that would be. . what?”

“Tell the locals to stay out of my way,” said Crenshaw.

She knew he was only half-serious-maybe a little more than half. “Roger that,” said Andie.