Spider

66

Holiday Inn, New York It was the early hours of the morning when Howie had finally gone home for round two with Carrie while Jack checked in at the Holiday Inn on Lafayette Street.

Jack guessed the Bureau had a deal on the slate price because the room was tiny and stank of the unseen and unclean who'd been there before him. He flopped down on the bed and discovered it had springs crafted by cavemen. He rang reception and asked if there was a chance of a sandwich and a glass of milk. The guy laughed and said something in Spanish that Jack guessed meant 'no way'. He put the phone down and at first was pissed as hell, but then figured that missing a midnight snack might turn out to be a good thing. He remembered the girl in the video and felt guilty. Poor kid would kill just for the bottle of water in his room, let alone a bar of chocolate from the mini-bar, and there he was cursing about not being able to get room service.

Jack kicked off his shoes, checked his watch and called Nancy. Just approaching one a.m. in New York, meant it was seven a.m. in Tuscany and he timed things perfectly so he caught her seconds after her alarm went off. Nancy was a creature of habit. The clock was always set for the same time, even on holiday. She saw no point in lying in bed and always wanted to start the day as early as possible. They didn't speak for long, just long enough to say they loved each other, and for Jack to send Zack a hug and a kiss.

After hanging up, Jack lay back on the bed, still in his suit, and pictured his wife and child just about to start their day. The image was soothing enough to make him feel sleepy, but he popped an Ambien to make sure and washed it down with a slug of water. He'd meant to rest for a minute and then clean up in the bathroom, but he never made it. Within seconds of shutting his eyes, he was asleep.

And then the nightmare started.

Only this time, it was different.

This time he was in the same room as the girl in the video. She was having convulsions again, her body jumping all over that strange table she was tied to. Jack put his hand on her chest to calm her down. He checked her face and she was still breathing. He loosened her chains and turned her on her side so she wouldn't choke, then he got a blanket from somewhere and covered her up. Soon the room was filling with paramedics, cops and scene-of-crime officers. The paramedics gently lifted the girl on to a stretcher, quickly attached a saline drip and carried her out to an ambulance.

Jack felt good; she was going to be all right. He'd saved her. He looked around the room as the forensics team started snapping pictures, bagging and tagging evidence. He saw something on the floor. Something utterly shocking.

Jack woke up.

A thought hit his subconscious like a bolt of lightning.

In the dream he'd just had, he was reaching for the newspaper on the floor, the copy of USA Today, the copy dated the second of July.

Suddenly, Jack had the answer to the questions he'd posed himself in Tariq el Daher's office.

Why wouldn't her attacker film it himself with a hand-held camera, so he could get up close and personal?

The paper had been left to prove to anyone watching the first video after Tariq got it on the fifth of July that it was recent material. But when Tariq received new footage on the seventh, there was no new paper.

Why?

The answer was simple. Because he hadn't been in that room since he left the paper in the video. Because from the second of July onwards, six days ago, he'd left the girl to starve to death and was remotely controlling the recording and delivery of the footage by Internet. Internet – the perfect tool of anonymous criminals.

But where was he now?