Dark Zone

87

Lia pulled a bag of chips from the rack at the refreshment counter, then realized she had only a twenty-euro bill. The attendant sighed but dug into the register dutifully. Lia took the money and walked toward the end of the car opposite the one she’d come in through, as if she were an absent-minded passenger who’d lost her bearings. She’d already been through the train once without finding their quarry, but there was little to do now until they reached England, which wouldn’t be for more than an hour; they were still a good ten or fifteen minutes or so from the entrance to the Chunnel.

Most likely, the suspect had found some other entrance at the Eurostar terminal to sneak out of. Dean had blown it when he decided to come on the train.

About time he messed something up. Maybe he wouldn’t be so high-and-mighty, Mr. Perfect Ex-Marine.

She was angry at him for no good reason, just to be angry.

And she loved him.

Lia forced herself to concentrate on the job, scanning the faces in the seats as she walked through the cars. She continued through to the end, attracting a few odd stares as she pretended to hunt for her seat. As she turned around, she overheard one of the male passengers whispering to his companion something about a nice piece of meat.

She spun and unleashed a flood of French curse words at him. The man turned white and managed a meek apology as she spun away.

“What was that about?” asked Sandy Chafetz, popping onto the communications line. She’d just taken over for Rockman.

“Called me a sweet meal,” said Lia.

“You sure he meant you, not his lunch?”

“Does it matter?” snapped Lia, passing between cars.

Dean shifted in the seat, staring at the door at the end of the coach. If the suspect — now tentatively ID’d as a Mr. McCormack, birth location and place unknown — had gotten onto the train, he must have disguised himself somehow. The easiest way to do that was by changing clothes, but he must have done more or Dean would have found him by now.

“Charlie, this is Sandy Chafetz. I’ve come in to help out. I’m going to run your end of the mission. There’s a lot going on in Paris right now.”

Dean turned toward the window, cupping his hand over his face so the fact that he was talking to himself wouldn’t be so conspicuous. “Like what?”

“‘The Eiffel Tower is being attacked. And the President is still at de Gaulle.”

“Is he the target?”

“We don’t think so.”

“Where’s Tommy Karr?”

“He’s all right. We want you to keep focused on your mission. We have a list of the passengers who checked in. Your subject was in a second-class car, seat number—”

“I went through this with Rockman,” Dean told her. “There’s a kid in that seat about nine years old. I even looked at her ticket.”

He had pretended to be confused about the seat. The girl’s mother, sitting next to her, showed the proper ticket. It was possible that she’d switched with someone, but the woman didn’t seem to understand his question when he asked. In any event, McCormack was no longer nearby.

“We’re using a pattern recognition program to review the images we captured from the security cameras in the station and compare them with the ones Lia took earlier,” said Chafetz. “The first pass hasn’t shown any hits, but we’re widening the parameters. We’re going to ask the British authorities to meet the train and quarantine it. They may have to do that outside the station; we’re not sure yet. We don’t have to make a decision for a while; the train actually goes pretty slowly once it comes out of the Chunnel.”

“How good is your program?”

“Still experimental,” Chafetz admitted. “But if we get a straight-on shot or a decent profile, we can match. Once we get beyond the first pass, things get a little more problematic. We’re also looking at it ourselves.”

“You can’t just match up person for person?”

“We’re trying, Charlie. The problem is we didn’t start with a good shot in the first place and we didn’t have direct coverage inside the waiting area. The French video surveillance system is not what you would call cutting-edge, and it wasn’t set up to watch the Eurostar area. They obviously figured the security at the gates would suffice. So we have to enhance images from cameras on the far platform, and it’s not quite a piece of cake. At the same time, your subject obviously changed his appearance. Since we don’t know who he is, we have to work backward — we’re matching the people who haven’t changed. The computer program was not designed to do what we’re trying to do, so even if we had good images to start with, it wouldn’t be easy. It doesn’t mean that we won’t get it. Just that it’ll take a few minutes. OK?”

“OK. I appreciate the explanation.”

Lia came into the car and sat down across from him.

“The Eiffel Tower is under attack,” he told her.

“Where’s Tommy?”

“They won’t say.”

“Then he’s in the middle of it.”

There was a tone on the loudspeaker. The train master spoke, repeating the same message in French and English:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are approaching the English Channel. We will be in the Chunnel for a short ride.”

“Ahead of schedule,” said Lia.

“We have six possibilities,” said Chafetz. “We’ll be able to download them to you in about three minutes. See if you can check each one out, get any additional information.”

“Can you transmit when we’re in the Chunnel?” asked Dean.

“Uh, no. All right, I’m sorry — the train is ahead of schedule. We may have to wait until you’re but. We won’t be able to transmit while you’re in the tunnel. But it won’t be long. It only takes ten minutes or so. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Just to the restroom,” said Dean, getting up.