Wrecking Crew

SIXTEEN

Three times, Stone called Linda on the radio. Three times, he listened to static. He stood on the car’s doorsill, and searched the parking lot in desperation, but there was no sign of her. Helen Atkins smiled cruelly.

“She’s gone.”

Stone quickly stepped down and grabbed her by the hair with such ferocity that Carter stepped forward to intervene, but he stopped when he saw the anger in Eric’s face. Atkins squealed as Stone forced her to kneel.

“Where is she?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“How would I know?” she hissed, “I was with you,”

“Who has her?” Carter asked.

“I expect he has. Him and his gorilla bodyguards.”

“Names… Give me names!” Stone shouted, shaking her head.

“Eric!” Carter warned, “Ease off.”

Stone slowly let go of her hair, but his eyes retained their look of murderous intent. Atkins stood up shakily and looked at the two men, as if she were assessing her situation. Then she sighed.

“Look… he hasn’t got a name. We’re only allowed to call him ‘Boss’ or ‘The Fixer’. He has two bodyguards; they’re from Russia or somewhere. They’re identical twins. He calls them ‘Kitten’ and ‘Bunny’, but they’re big men, really big men — and nasty. If they’ve got her… ”

She shook her head.

Any other questions instantly went out of his mind, when there was a crackle from his radio earpiece. Linda’s voice spoke hesitantly.

“Eric?”

“Linda?”

“Eric — I’m so sorry, I was— Ahhh!”

Linda’s scream of pain made Stone’s heart skip a beat. A new voice came over the radio.

“Eric Stone?” The Fixer said in a calm tone.

“Who is this?”

There was a pause.

“I think you will address me as ‘Sir’,” The Fixer said.

“Listen to me you useless piece of sh—”

There was another scream. This time it was longer and louder.

“I said… ” The Fixer repeated slowly, “that you will address me as Sir. Is that clear?”

Eric understood perfectly. Things had gotten out of hand for the Wrecking Crew. Three of their people were down, and now they had lost Helen Atkins. The Fixer wanted to regain control of the situation, and by hurting Linda, he was trying to establish his domination over Eric. Grim faced, Carter indicated that he had heard the conversation on his radio. He nodded for Eric to co-operate.

“Yes, I understand… Sir,” Stone drew out the final word.

“Good. That’s better.”

The Fixer’s voice suggested that he had spoken the words with a triumphant smile on his face.

“As you may have guessed Stone, I have your little girlfriend here. Now… I’m in a bit of a rush, so I must insist that you do exactly as I say, or I will slit her throat and dump her lifeless body in the gutter. Is that clear?”

“Yes — Sir,” Stone said through clenched teeth.

“Excellent!” The Fixer said condescendingly, “Now look to your right, over by the entrance to the parking lot. Can you see a black BMW?”

Stone looked. About sixty yards away, just outside the parking lot guardrail, a car was flashing its headlights. The car was close enough for Stone to see the shape of a man and a small blonde woman, but too far away to make out the faces through the tinted glass.

“I see you.”

Instantly, Linda screamed again.

“You missed the magic word!”

“SIR!” Stone shouted desperately, “I see you, Sir. Please don’t hurt her… ”

“That’s better,” The Fixer said.

Stone shut his eyes. He felt sick with fear and anger. The Fixer spoke again.

“Now — do exactly as I say. Let Helen go. If you send her over to my car, right now — I will let your little Linda live.”

“Look… we’ll swap, I’ll let Helen go, and you release Linda… Sir,” Stone pleaded.

The Fixer laughed.

“No, you moron! There’s to be no negotiating here, I’m holding all of the cards! Let Helen go, or the girl dies!”

Stone hesitated.

“I’ll give you thirty seconds. Then I’ll slit her throat, dump her out of the door, and drive away. Afterwards you can run over here and try to stop the bleeding with your hands. It won’t work, but you can try.”

Carter spoke urgently.

“Eric, you have to do as he says. Do it NOW!”

“OK — OK, I’ll let her go!” Stone shouted, “She’s coming now.”

Stone pushed the woman towards the BMW. Atkins gave him a parting sneer of victory, and then she turned and walked away towards her freedom. In helpless frustration, the two men watched her walk across the parking lot.

When she was about twenty-five yards away from the BMW, Stone heard its engine start. Ten steps later, just as she entered the full glare of a streetlight, the car’s window slid down. Atkins suddenly stopped walking and held up her hands, as if trying to ward off some unseen menace. Stone clearly heard her say ‘Oh no!’, but as she began to turn away from the BMW, there was a pink puff from the top of her head. Like a puppet with the strings cut, she dropped to the ground. Half a second later, the muffled sound of a silenced gunshot confirmed what had just happened.

Before they could react, the BMW accelerated away, leaving behind the body of Helen Atkins, and a pink cloud of blood and brain matter, hanging eerily in the mist. Carter, ever the policeman, began moving towards the body — but Stone stopped him with a shout.

“Leave her, Ed! Quick, get in the car — we have to follow, before he gets away. We have to rescue Linda!”

With a nod of agreement, they jumped into the Audi. Fortunately, the key was still in the ignition, and the engine started first time. Stone stomped hard on the gas pedal and the tires scrabbled for grip as they shot forward. Almost immediately, he had to slow and put two wheels on the sidewalk, to get past the lifeless form of Helen Atkins. Then there was another frustrating delay, when they realized that they couldn’t get out of the parking lot without a validated ticket. It took three attempts to force a way through the guardrail. Before it finally yielded, they broke a front headlight, scratched the hood, and cracked the windshield.

A few seconds later, they came to the junction with Bridge Street, Stone stopped, and searched for the BMW. Left or right — left or right?

“Which way did he go?”

Carter pointed to the left.

“It’s a one way street, turn left. There he is… just ahead of the blue car!”

“Got it!”

Stone spun the wheel to the left and accelerated. In seconds, the powerful Audi topped sixty miles an hour, but then he had to brake hard, as the traffic ahead slowed for the traffic circle. Stone craned his head to see over the line of cars. The roof of the BMW was visible just sixty yards away. If the traffic had stopped, Stone could have jumped out of the Audi and run to the BMW in less than ten seconds, but the traffic kept moving, so he followed the line of cars.

There was a blinding light, and the impression of a massive black shape approaching from the right. With an enormous bang, the side window and door exploded inwards, showering Stone in glass. A black Toyota Hilux had driven fast out of a side road and deliberately smashed into the driver’s side of the Audi.

Even though the side impact airbag had deployed, Stone was winded and stunned. It took him a few seconds to understand that they had just been in an accident, and a few more to realize that the Toyota was still pushing them sideways. Over the huge hood of the Toyota, Stone could see the grinning faces and shaven heads of Kitten and Bunny. The tires on the Audi groaned as the Toyota continued to push it sideways towards the edge of the road.

“They’re trying to push us into the river!” Carter warned.

Stone looked to his left and saw that they were actually on a bridge. They were just feet from being tipped over the edge, and into the dark waters below. He stamped on the gas pedal to try to get away from the Toyota, but the impact had stalled the engine. As he turned the ignition key, a series of harsh clicks suggested that something important had broken.

“Duck,” Carter said calmly.

“What?”

Carter smiled and waved the gun they had taken from Anton Stephens.

“Duck down… please.”

Stone folded forward as best he could. He felt Carter leaning on his back to steady his aim. Almost instantly, there was a squeal of tires and a crunch as the Toyota wildly backed in to a street sign. Carter patted him on the back, and he sat up just in time to see the dented rear of the SUV as it raced after the BMW. They watched helplessly as the two cars negotiated the traffic circle and sped out of sight. Linda was gone.

“Jesus!”

Stone looked around at the damage in the car. The sound of fast approaching sirens did not bode well.

“We need to move — and quick!” Carter said, pointing to the left, “My car’s just over there.”

They left the wrecked Audi stranded on the sidewalk and walked as casually as they could towards Carter’s car. They even remembered to stop at a pay station and validate Ed’s parking ticket. Three minutes later, they were on the main road and driving inconspicuously away from the carnage. The black BMW and the dented Toyota were long gone.

“We have to find Linda,” Stone said, almost to himself.

“We will, I promise. But for now, we need to find somewhere to hold up, and we need to get you cleaned up. Your face is a mess.”

Carter was driving. Stone pulled down the sun visor on his side, and looked in the vanity mirror. His left eye was puffy and swollen from his fight in the restroom, and the right side of his face had several glass chips embedded in the skin. There were more than a few blood smears on his hands and sleeves.

“You should see the other guy,” he said dully, picking at the glass with his fingernail.

“I’ll head for the service area on the M4. You can get cleaned up, and then we can get some fresh clothes and something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll eat,” Carter said firmly, “Linda would want you to.”

Two hours later, cleaned and fed, they were discussing their next move over a second cup of coffee, when Ed’s phone began playing a tune, to report an incoming call. He stood and walked to the comparative privacy of the window seating at the front of the café. Stone watched his friend listening to the caller and nodding involuntarily. He thought it seemed like a one-sided conversation. As the call finished, Carter snapped the phone shut and strode back to the table.

“Let’s go!” he said as he walked right by.

Stone dropped a handful of notes on the table and waved for the waitress to keep the change. He jogged after Carter, catching up with him at the car.

“What is it?” he asked.

“That was the hospital.”

“Oh, God! It’s Megan — is she OK?”

“She’s better than OK Eric; she’s awake,” Carter smiled, “and she wants me to bring my laptop.”

The Fixer sat back in his soft leather office chair and steepled his fingers, as he considered the woman glaring daggers at him from the other side of his desk. Up close, Linda Smart was spectacularly good-looking. With her trim figure, short blonde hair, and dazzling green eyes, her beauty was almost breath taking. Leaving her physical qualities aside, there was something else about her, which caught his attention. The Fixer had known several attractive women in his life. In his experience, they usually brandished their looks like a magic shield. Something to deflect the unworthy and attract the wealthy. However, this woman seemed to wear her beauty as casually as a pair of old jeans. It was almost as if she didn’t know, or didn’t care. Somehow, to The Fixer, that made her even more attractive.

He gave her a casual smile.

“So you’re Linda Smart.”

“And you’re an ass.”

“Tut-tut Linda, that’s no way to talk. Can’t we agree to get along?”

“Yes — if you agree to stop breathing.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not going to happen,” he replied confidently.

“I bet Helen Atkins thought that when she woke up this morning.”

He nodded and pulled a sad face.

“Poor Helen — she didn’t realize that she had outlived her usefulness.”

“You’re a cold bastard — I’ll give you that much.”

He stared at her openly, delighting in how she shifted uncomfortably, under the irresistible energy of his gaze. The Fixer knew that he could force her to be nice to him. He could make her satisfy his desires, but he decided to remain patient. He had stolen another man’s property. She was his now, and she would remain that way. He had plenty of time. Like a cat with a mouse, he decided to play with her. He wanted to sweeten his appetite for the main course that would follow.

“Tell me about Eric Stone,” he said calmly.

Linda gave him a cold smile.

“He’s going to find you, and when he does he’s going to kill you. What more do you need to know?”

The Fixer shrugged nonchalantly.

“What attracted you to him?”

“What?” Linda asked, stunned by the unexpected question.

He spread his hands defensively.

“Humor me. I’m fascinated by the human psyche.”

She shrugged.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Alright, I’ll bite — he’s a good person.”

“Oh, you mean ‘weak’.”

“No, I mean exactly what I said. He is good and kind and handsome, and I love him.”

The Fixer snorted.

“Oh please — what can you possibly know about love?”

“I know what I like, and it isn’t an arsehole like you.”

“Sticks and stones — sticks and stones!” he chided.

“Give me a stick, and I’ll break your bones,” she threatened.

“Do you know? I believe you would.” His smile suggested a hidden subtext. “Nevertheless, you will soon grow to love me.”

Now Linda snorted.

“You’d better kill me now.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Linda Smart. I’m going to marry you.”

She reeled backwards in shock.

“Oh my God! You’re totally certifiable!”

“You may be correct… ” he conceded, “But the fact remains that you will willingly become my bride. I have… chosen you.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“Never — ever — going to happen.”

“Oh… but you’re wrong Linda Smart. You see, I happen to know that a woman like you does not respond to good looks, or money. However, you will become helpless in the presence of power. And I have real power.”

The fixer leaned forward in his seat.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

And in that instant, for Linda Smart, nothing would ever be the same again.

Although Megan was sitting up in bed when they arrived, she looked pale, and her head was heavily bandaged. There were tubes and wires connecting her to several medical monitoring devices that seemed to randomly click and peep without an obvious reason. The policeman guarding the room gave Carter a stiff smile and a respectful nod. Then he politely stepped into the corridor, followed closely by a matronly nurse.

Before coming up to the ward, they had stopped at the hospital gift store. Carter bought flowers but Stone opted for a big box of chocolates. Megan was happy to see the boys, and delighted with the chocolates. She immediately pushed her oxygen mask up and devoured several soft centers in quick succession.

“That nurse is a Communist, or a Nazi, I can’t decide which,” she mumbled between mouthfuls. “Because of my ‘blood pressure’ I’m on a low fat diet — as if that’s going to make me feel any better!”

“She seems very nice. I spoke with her on the way in,” Carter said in a fatherly tone of voice. “You should keep the oxygen mask on. Your lungs are a little burned.”

“Don’t I know it — I’m coughing like a two-pack a day smoker.”

Suddenly she bowed her head. Nobody spoke. When she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Ed.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Megan.”

“Somehow they found me. Somehow, they got in to my place. I should have stopped them. I should have put up a fight. All my stuff… my cats… ”

She hung her head and sobbed. Ed put his hand on her shoulder and waited until the tears were spent. Stone stood quietly by the window, immersed in his own grief and distress. When Megan had dried her eyes, mightily blown her nose, and eaten three more chocolates, Stone spoke for the first time since they had arrived.

“Megan, they took Linda. It was my fault. We knew it was a trap, but I took her anyway.”

Her hand shot to her mouth in horror.

“Oh my God! Poor Linda. Oh Eric, I’m so sorry.”

“I have to find her,” he whispered to no one in particular.

Carter broke the silence.

“Megan? Before the fire, you said that you had found a clue. It could be important. It could help us to find Linda. Do you remember what it was?”

Megan shook her head.

“I can’t remember… ”

Her eyes grew wet again.

“My memory… it’s all… smoky.”

“I brought my laptop. Perhaps if we looked at the files again… perhaps you might remember something,” Carter asked gently.

“Of course.”

She waved for him to bring the laptop forward.

While Megan’s fingers flew across the keyboard, Carter slowly walked through everything that had happened since the fire. He told her about contacting Helen Atkins and arranging the meeting. He explained why they had gone, even though they had suspected a trap, and then he described how Atkins had been brutally shot down. Megan remained silent, right up to the part where he told her how Linda had screamed in pain over the radio.

“Those bastards!”

She looked at Stone, her eyes still wet, but now fierce in determination.

“This wasn’t your fault Eric, any more than the death of Charles. These are bad people — it’s that simple.”

Stone slowly turned to face the window.

“I have to find Linda,” he whispered, “I have to save her.”

Megan gave Ed a grave look. Together they shared a dreadful thought, about what might be happening to Linda Smart.

Gordon McIntosh knocked, and walked into The Fixer’s office. He was carefully carrying a large glass Kilner jar, inside there was a second much smaller jar. Both jars were filled with clear liquid. He paused for a moment to look at the beautiful blonde woman, sitting submissively at the side of The Fixer’s desk. He had a brief image of a young Queen sitting with her King.

“Gordon! Come in please.”

He used an expansive sweep of his arm, to indicate his new possession.

“This is Linda Smart. She used to be with Eric Stone, but now she’s with me.”

Gordon was unsure how to respond.

“Er… hello?”

The Fixer smiled at some private joke.

“Don’t worry, Gordon. Linda isn’t feeling herself just now.”

Linda stared at Gordon with dull dead eyes. He mentally shuddered as he imagined what the Fixer had been doing to this young woman for the last two hours. With great effort, he tore his eyes away from her slack tear-stained face.

“You wanted to see me, Boss?”

“Yes. I wanted to check your preparations for… ” he waved his hand in an arc, “this place.”

Gordon looked from his boss to Linda and back again. The Fixer held up a calming hand.

“Oh, it’s OK Gordon — you can talk freely. She’s quite compliant just now.”

Feeling on safer ground Gordon risked a smile.

“Everything’s ready, Boss.” He cautiously held up the Kilner jar. “That’s why I brought this.”

The Fixer smiled. Earlier he had spoken with his broker. He had reported that every movable asset would be transferred to a numbered offshore account by close of play tomorrow. Mentally he had shrugged in tacit acceptance at the cost. He recognized that the sudden decision to liquidate his assets would result in a considerable loss. Nevertheless, he had already made plans to ensure that the thieving bastard didn’t live long enough to enjoy his share.

At least he was consoled by the knowledge that in just a few hours, he would board a private jet with Linda Smart, and they would fly far, far away, to begin a long and happy life together. Before then, he wanted to kill the remaining members of the Wrecking Crew. Then he would destroy the bodies, and any other incriminating evidence, by incinerating the house. The Fixer looked at Gordon’s jar of liquid, and braced himself for the inevitable science lecture.

“Go ahead, Gordon. Tell me what I need to do to torch this place without losing my eyebrows.”

Gordon smiled proudly.

“Actually it’s really simple. As long as you follow my instructions, you’ll have plenty of time to set the fire and leave.”

The Fixer nodded in encouragement.

“Go on.”

Gordon produced a drawing from his pocket and placed it in the desk. It was a rough diagram of the house and grounds. He pointed to a square containing four circles.

“OK… At each corner of the basement there’s a tea chest filled with Thermite. It’s a mixture of iron oxide and aluminum powder. That stuff burns at an incredibly high temperature, hot enough to melt most metals. Unfortunately, it can be difficult to ignite, so I’ve added some barium nitrate to the mix. That will make the Thermite burn even hotter, but with the benefit of being easier to light.”

Gordon used a pen and laboriously drew an arrow, pointing towards one of the circles.

“This tea chest nearest to the door is painted yellow. It contains strips of magnesium metal, which will act as a fuse. Once the first chest is alight, the others will follow in sequence — they are all rigged to burn.”

His eyes glittered with excitement as he explained his preparations.

“To add a little variety, on each floor above the tea chests, I’ve placed a five gallon jerry-can of gasoline. If you add all that to the 300 gallons of kerosene in that heating oil tank out by the garage, we can expect a pretty spectacular display.”

The Fixer tried to look as if he understood the chemistry — or even cared about it, but it was hard going. He had always found Gordon’s passion for conflagrations to be distasteful.

“So how do I start the fire?”

“That’s what this is for.”

Gordon proudly jiggled the Kilner jar.

“It contains a mixture of potassium chlorate, sucrose, and nitro cellulose. It’s something that the British spooks invented during the Second World War, to destroy secret documents. Inside this Kilner jar, is a second smaller jar filled with sulfuric acid. When mixed, these chemicals produce a very hot and nasty fire.”

“Sounds delightful.”

Gordon didn’t notice his bosses thinly disguised sarcasm.

“Oh, it is wonderful — and quite spectacular.”

The Fixer was becoming impatient. He gave Gordon a cold stare.

“Anyway, all you need to do is throw the jar into the yellow tea chest, and walk away.”

The Fixer raised his eyebrows. He’d had some previous experience of his arsonist’s work.

“That’s all? Just throw and walk away?”

“Well, there will be a mighty ‘woof’ when the jar breaks, but the thermite will take a little while to get going. So I would suggest that you throw the jar and then leave immediately.”

The Fixer stood, indicating that the meeting was over.

“Well Gordon… it sounds as if you’ve done another excellent job.”

“Thank you!”

The arsonist smiled proudly, as he turned to leave.

“Gordon?”

“Yes Boss?”

“Leave the jar… ”

“OK, we’ve made some good progress. Let’s summarize.”

Carter was trying to be both supportive and optimistic.

“Oh come on, Ed! We haven’t made any progress at all.”

Stone banged his fist on the wall, his frustration getting the better of his usually mild nature. He turned his back on the room and stared unseeingly out of the window. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he mumbled a quiet apology.

“It’s OK Eric, we understand,” Megan said. “We’re all desperate to help Linda.”

Stone continued to stare out of the window. He half-heartedly listened as Megan and Carter talked through the known facts for the third time, but he couldn’t focus his mind. Linda was out there somewhere, and she was in terrible danger, or worse. At that moment, The Fixer could be doing something unspeakable to her, and Stone knew there was nothing that he could do. He closed his eyes in an effort to hold back the tears. His heart raced and his chest constricted under the insufferable weight of frustration. He understood now, the helpless pain that every grieving relative suffers when a loved one goes missing.

With a huge effort, he pulled his emotions back together. He realized that if he lost it now, he would be of no use to Megan and Carter. Eric thought of Linda, he pictured her. He evoked an image of her happy smiling face, her beautiful eyes, and her inner sparkle. He realized that he had to keep visualizing her that way. He had to pretend that those other things weren’t happening, and he had to believe that by some miracle she was unhurt. Otherwise, he just couldn’t function. Behind him, the conversation eventually came back to Second Chances, and the Trustees.

“There is one question that we never asked,” Carter said. “Why was Charles Rathbone targeted?”

“I thought it was because he was getting too close to the Wrecking Crew,” Megan replied.

“Well that’s what we assumed, but if that was the case, wouldn’t they have just killed him — like they did Valerie Jenkins? Surely that would have been a more predictable result than an induced suicide?”

“So what was the motive?” Megan asked.

“Charles thought that he became a target because of his politics, maybe he was right,” Carter said. “Perhaps the actual motive was stopping Charles’ ‘True Democracy’ movement.”

“But how does his suicide stop the movement? I mean, surely someone else will just take over. His death achieved nothing. You can’t kill an idea,” Megan said.

Carter clicked his fingers.

“Perhaps his suicide was just an unintended consequence. If they wanted to discredit Charles, and his idea of ‘True Democracy’, then associating him with pedophilia was a perfect way to do it. Killing someone only works once, but a character assassination works every day. His suicide was probably the last thing that they would have wanted.”

Megan nodded.

“So we have to ask, ‘Who would benefit from stopping True Democracy?’ — and I guess the answer is any competing politician.”

“Like Sir Harold Heathfield?” Carter asked, already knowing the answer.

“Consecrated excrement!”

Megan sat forward and started tapping at the laptop.

“Heathfield is ‘Father of the House’, and a Trustee of Second Chances. Perhaps he was using his own organisation to remove a threat to his political ideals.”

“Where does he live?” Carter asked.

“Well… according to the House of Commons register of Member’s interests, he has five properties listed. An apartment in London, a family home in Surrey and three overseas vacation homes in Spain, France and one in Florida.” She pulled an unsympathetic face. “It must be a hard life.”

“What about the other Trustee?” Carter asked.

“Simon Cartwright? We already looked at him.” Megan shrugged noncommittally. “Before his wife died, they lived in a house bearing the offensive name of ‘Hug-a-Mugger’. According to the electoral roll, he still lives there now.”

“Could he be that arrogant?” Stone had spoken for the first time in almost an hour.

“Excuse me?” Megan said.

Stone turned to face Carter. His face spoke of some huge hidden secret.

“I asked if Simon Cartwright could be that arrogant.”

“What have you got, Eric?” Carter asked.

“Something has been bouncing around in my head for a couple of days, something… just out of reach. Now I’ve got it.”

“WHAT?” Megan asked in frustration.

“It’s not Hug-a-Mugger, his house is called Huggermugger.”

Stone spelled the word, his face split in a wide smile.

Megan and Carter looked at him blankly.

“It’s from Shakespeare — Hamlet, I think.”

Stone closed his eyes as he searched for the memory.

“I think it was Claudius — ‘For good Polonius' death and we have done but greenly, in huggermugger to inter him’.”

They continued to stare.

“What? I read,” he shrugged.

“I still don’t get it,” Megan said.

“Among other things… ” Stone said pointedly, “huggermugger means secrecy or clandestine. To act slyly, to cause confusion, and to create muddle.”

Carter face was a picture of delight and astonishment.

“In a single word, it’s everything that we know the Wrecking Crew does!”

“But can this ‘Fixer’ be that arrogant?” Stone asked.

“You spoke with him… ” Carter said, “You know he is.”

“I’ll call the house up on my mapping software.”

Megan’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

“Here it is. It’s just outside a village called Hampstead Norryes in Berkshire.”

She looked at Stone.

“That’s not far from The Oracle in Reading… Let’s see if there is a satellite view.”

The picture came up on the laptop. As Megan zoomed in, Stone and Carter leaned over the bed for a better view. She pointed out the features.

“Biggish place, looks like a single story residence, outbuildings, several cars, and a humongous satellite dish — their broadband speed must be off the scale!”

Stone’s finger jabbed the screen.

“That looks like the Toyota Hilux that rammed us. And that one could be the same BMW that they took Linda in.”

“When was this picture taken?” Carter asked.

Megan quickly checked the image data.

“It’s recent — six days ago.”

“What’s that?” Carter stabbed the screen. “Can you zoom in?”

“Sure! This is a high-resolution image — a Government special. Ironic really, when you think about it.”

She rolled the mouse and the image grew. It was heavily pixelated at first, but the detail quickly filled in. Just outside the house a man was standing, with his head tilted slightly backwards, as if he were enjoying the sunshine on his face. Although the image was small, the satellite had clearly captured a picture of an elderly man, with a goatee beard and a tweed jacket.

“That’s Peter White!” Carter shouted, jumping with excitement. “We’ve found them, Eric. We’ve found the Wrecking Crew!”

“And Linda,” Stone said, “we’ve found Linda.”

He turned to face the window. His eyes were looking slightly above the horizon, as if he were trying to see all the way to Huggermugger. As if he were trying to see Linda Smart.

“Now we have a chance,” he whispered, “Now we can get her back!”