Private Monaco

Chapter 22

If Mo-bot slept at all, she must have done so during the two hours I shut my eyes. When I woke, she was still at her workstation, seemingly sustained by fragrant herbal teas and grim determination.

Eli Carver had connected her with someone known only as Weaver, whom he referred to euphemistically as a Department of Defense analyst, which meant he was probably running desk intelligence for one of America’s many acronym espionage agencies.

Weaver and Mo-bot traded information and messages, while Sci and I reviewed the huge volume of data submitted by Private offices around the world.

The identification of Nikolai Oborin had opened up numerous avenues of inquiry and additional background on the man himself. Our offices were digging through anything and everything on the Kutsenko Brigade and the Semion Gang, two criminal organizations Oborin had previously been associated with. They were implicated in arms dealing, people smuggling and the international drugs trade, with tentacles on every continent, so we had our work cut out for us.

I’d finally fallen asleep on the couch in their suite a little after 4 a.m. and woke at 6:15 when my alarm sounded.

“I think we might have something,” Mo-bot said, glancing round as I stirred. “Our friend Weaver has access to some pretty neat stuff. He’s got an AI... artificial intelligence—”

I cut her off. “I know what AI is. Thinking computers.”

“Well done,” she said mockingly. “Whoever he works for has access to an AI that can review video footage and lock onto an object or face.”

I sat up and stretched.

“The AI is reviewing traffic-camera footage throughout Monaco on the day of the abduction,” Mo-bot revealed.

“How did we get the footage?” I asked. “Monaco police?”

She shook her head. “Assume the NSA can dip into any machine or network anywhere in the world. If they haven’t purchased a back-door encryption key from the manufacturer or got access through the root chipset, they’ll hack the system.”

I rubbed my face, wondering what would happen when that kind of access was combined with the power of artificial intelligence. I suspected it would mean entire populations could be kept under constant surveillance with AI running real-time threat analysis. But the technology was currently working in my favor and being used to help us find the most important person in my life, so I wasn’t about to complain.

“He’s sent something,” Mo-bot said, clicking on a message that had just arrived on our secure server.

She opened the attachment and the screen filled with a map of Monaco, showing the route of a vehicle: the white van that had transported Justine, with timestamps of different locations in the city. There were inset photos of the van taken from traffic cameras and other municipal surveillance sources. Each photo was also timestamped and identified by location and device name. The final photo had been taken by a traffic camera near a police checkpoint at the edge of the city. It showed an officer searching the van, so either they’d hidden Justine somewhere in Monaco or they had a concealed compartment in the vehicle.

The timestamps of the van’s journey through the city from the abduction to the police checkpoint ruled out the vehicle stopping anywhere. I’d followed it for a large part of its journey and knew they hadn’t removed her, so I guessed she was hidden in a false ceiling or floor when it was searched. I was pained by the thought of a police officer being so close to finding her. I couldn’t bear to picture her captive and afraid, surrounded by enemies.

Mo-bot must have sensed my pain because she minimized the map and the photos.

“We’ve got a time and a location, Jack,” she said.

I knew she was deliberately being optimistic and trying to give me reason to hope.

“We can hit the streets and find out if anyone saw where the van went from there. I’ll get Weaver working on whether he can pull anything from the French side,” Mo-bot said.

I nodded. “I’ll ask Duval if he’ll partner with me. His local knowledge will be useful when we pound the streets. I want you and Sci to go to Monaco Police Headquarters. Beg, borrow, steal, call in every favor to get Sci access to their forensics lab. See if the biker’s clothes from the hotel or anything from the guy they have in custody can help narrow down a location.”

Mo-bot nodded and smiled, but it looked a little forced. “She’ll be okay, Jack. We’ll find her.”

I hoped she was right, and as long as there was hope, there was everything to play for.