Taken

41

Joe Pike

Desert Gold Realty was a narrow storefront closer to Cathedral City than Palm Desert, wedged between a gift shop and a women’s clothing store. The shops and offices were closed, which suited Pike because the surrounding streets were deserted.

The realty office had a glass front with color flyers of available properties taped to the glass. The flyers suggested Megan Orlato’s primary business was vacation rentals for weekenders and snowbirds. The interior was dark. The only light came from a computer on a desk at the rear. A small round table with chairs for customers was up front, but there was only the one desk in back with posters above it, and a low filing cabinet behind it. Pike looked for the telltale red light from an alarm touch pad by the back door, but saw nothing.

Pike drove around to the parking area behind the office. The back door was the typical fireproof commercial door found everywhere, with a single commercial-grade deadbolt. He studied the lock, then drove to a Chevron station three blocks away to look through Stone’s gear. He found an electric pick gun and tension wrenches. State-of-the-art lock-picking equipment.

When the Rover was gassed, Pike drove back to the office, cracked the lock, and opened the door. He expected an alarm, but when nothing happened he assumed the alarm was silent.

Pike had at least four minutes inside if the breach registered at a top private security firm. The duty monitor would run a system diagnostic to make sure the alarm hadn’t been triggered by a malfunction, then phone the subscriber. If the subscriber could not be reached, the monitor would alert a mobile unit or the police, who would respond only after finishing their current call. Four minutes was the best-case response time, but Pike knew the real-world response times were much longer.

Pike turned on the lights. The posters he saw from the street were promotions for Desert Gold Realty. Serving the Desert Communities for 13 GOLDen Years!

Pike went directly to the file cabinets, and ignored the computer. Searching unfamiliar computer files could take forever, but the file cabinet contained only three drawers. The first drawer contained files with labels like Visa, Amex, License amp; Fees, Utilities, Autos, and Medical. Pike decided these were personal files, so he moved to the next drawer. The second drawer contained files alphabetized by street names and addresses. Pike quickly checked for the three addresses the Syrian used, but they were not among the files. He pulled two random folders to check the contents, and discovered signed leases. The files in the second drawer were of properties currently being rented.

The third drawer held a yellow box file labeled Available Properties. The three addresses the Syrian used were here. Each of the three folders contained a listing agreement between the property owners and Desert Gold Realty. Pike checked to see if the properties were owned by the same person, but saw the owners were different. All three also lived out of state, which meant they probably had no idea how their property was being used. Since the owners lived out of state, Desert Gold Realty was specified as the property manager. This meant Desert Gold oversaw maintenance, gardening, and repair for the absentee owners. This allowed the Orlatos to keep unwanted visitors away for the two or three weeks a property was used by the Syrian.

There were thirty or forty folders in the yellow file, including the three. This meant Cole was almost certainly in one of the remaining locations, and it would be a location with an absentee owner. Pike took the files, closed the drawer, and was turning to leave when he saw the picture.

A framed photograph stood on the desk showing a woman with Dennis Orlato. He wore a blue suit and she wore a tight, flowery dress. They were smiling, and posed with an array of white roses beneath a neon sign saying WEDDED BLISS CHAPEL LAS VEGAS. Megan Orlato wasn’t his sister or mother. She was his wife.

Pike checked the time. He had been in the office four minutes and twenty seconds.

He looked at the picture. They weren’t kids. Megan Orlato was younger than Dennis, but he appeared only a few years younger than he had when Pike shot him. The picture was taken no more than six or eight years ago, which meant the marriage was recent.

Megan Orlato was an attractive woman. She was taller than her husband, and slim, with high cheekbones, a long nose, and almond-shaped eyes. Looking at her now, Pike remembered something Orlato said before he died.

The Syrian will trade for me. I’m married to his sister.

Pike checked his watch again. Four minutes fifty seconds.

Pike hadn’t believed it at the time, but now he wondered if it was true.

He glanced at the posters. Desert Gold Realty. Serving the Desert Communities for 13 GOLDen Years! Longer than her marriage to Dennis Orlato.

Pike turned to the first drawer, and took out the file labeled License amp; Fees. Copies of her real estate license and business license were the first two items in the file. The licenses dated from long before Dennis Orlato, and so did her name. Both had been issued to Maysan al-Diri.

Pike took out the files labeled Autos and Medical. The auto file contained receipts for repairs, two of which had been mailed to Megan Orlato at 2717 Croydon Avenue in Indio. The medical file contained insurance forms mailed to Megan Orlato at the same address. Megan Orlato’s home.

The corner of Pike’s mouth twitched for the second time that day. He had something better than a list of locations.

He had Ghazi al-Diri’s sister. the date farm