Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 12

"I dropped by yesterday," Agnes said. "He said he didn't handle the sale of the cottage, so it must have been purchased before he came to town. That would make it six or seven years ago, at least."

"Someone at the town hall must know who owns it, from the tax records and such," Gwenn mused. "Who do we know there?" We implied the entirety of the eight women who made up their weekly sewing circle.

Agnes sipped her tea thoughtfully. "I'll ask around."

"I was thinking..." Gwenn offered her a cuc.u.mber sandwich.

"Do you think Claude might pay him a visit?" Agnes's nephew had just been installed as the newest member of the village police department. Gwenn considered Claude too timid and malleable to do the job properly, but those qualities were to their advantage.

Claude would do anything to please his aunt.

"I'll try to persuade him." Agnes gazed over at the cottage. "I'll tell him you're concerned about your safety, living alone and not knowing what kind of man your neighbor is."

Ca.s.sady listened intently as Andor Rozsa moved about in the rooms above her head. Several areas of the floor that separated them creaked as he walked over them, and by memorizing each nuance, and the sounds of water in the pipes, she'd begun to learn his routine.

More important, she thought she now had an idea of where they were-an old, private home-and she had found a way to discern the rough time of day.

His bedroom must be in the corner to her left, because his steps retreated there just before the house went silent for long hours. The bathroom was next to it, judging from the brief whoosh of water through the pipes there a few times a day. The kitchen had to be near the stairs, because he lingered there just prior to her food delivery.

It wasn't much, and it got her no closer to finding a way to escape, but any bit of knowledge about her situation gave her hope.

Judging from what she now knew about his routine, she expected him any minute with her oatmeal and water. Her once- * 99 *

rabid hunger had abated to a hollow ache as the days pa.s.sed, but her thirst was insatiable. Though she'd rehydrated herself by drinking more than half the water he'd given her to wash with, the sweat pouring off her made the reprieve all too temporary.

Rozsa's heavy steps descended the stairs, and the bolt was thrown back. As always, he avoided eye contact.

Ca.s.sady didn't move as he set down the daily ration of oatmeal and water. "Can you please empty the bucket again? The smell is making me sick."

Though he glanced toward the makeshift toilet, he was apparently not in a mood to accommodate her today, because he left again without a word and secured the door with a resounding clang of metal.

With a sigh, Ca.s.sady reached for the oatmeal and chewed each bite slowly to make it last. Her clothes fit loosely now, and her energy level was at an all-time low. Without proper nourishment soon, she'd have difficulty following through with any escape attempt, even if an opportunity presented itself.

She took a sip of water and held it in her mouth a long while before swallowing. Then she put the gla.s.s aside. By rationing herself to a small amount only when her thirst became intolerable, Ca.s.sady had learned to bridge the gap between her daily refills with the least discomfort possible.

But it was Jack who really sustained her. Whenever her spirits ebbed, she closed her eyes and relived some memory of their precious year together and, at least for a little while, was able to escape her nightmare.

Southwestern Colorado Montgomery Pierce stared out the window of his office at the campus below, so preoccupied with worry he didn't realize Joanne had joined him until he felt her caress his back.

* 100 *

"You tossed and turned all night," she said in a worried tone, "and you barely touched your breakfast. You can't keep going like this. You know what the doctor said."

He turned to her and put his hand against her cheek. "I love that you worry so, honey. But I'm fine. I'm taking my medication." Joanne had been monitoring him closely the last year, since the EOO doc diagnosed a sudden dizzy spell as a worrying result of high blood pressure.

A knock at the door announced David Arthur's arrival. Dressed in his customary fatigues, he looked vaguely annoyed at being summoned two hours before dawn. "I hope this is important. I was up late with the seniors." Every month, Arthur conducted night-time training maneuvers for the graduating cla.s.s, in the ma.s.sive Weminuche Wilderness Area adjacent to the EOO campus.

"Reno has an update for us," Monty replied. "He should be here momentarily."

Reno arrived with several printouts, which he distributed before taking his seat. The dark puffiness under his eyes from lack of sleep made him look as though he'd gone a round or two with a boxer, and Monty noticed his hands were trembling, no doubt the byproduct of too much sugar and caffeine. "I've recovered some of the files Rozsa deleted from his computer," he said. "The guy's a pro at moving money around. I found still another bank account of his-this one in Asia, under the name of a bogus furniture company.

Regular deposits were going into the account right up until the lab exploded. It's empty now-Rozsa's transferred the cash somewhere else- but, it gives us a clue about one of his key financers. All the deposits came from a Manhattan bank account." He had their full attention. Even David perked up. "Manhattan?" Reno held up a hand. "No, it's not the same account that Chase and Phantom are tracking. But it is from the same bank, which has to be a h.e.l.l of a coincidence. Now, the name on this new account is another furniture company-Dragon Imports Unlimited. Also bogus-can't find a record of it anywhere. And here's where it really gets interesting. The amounts and dates of the transfers match * 101 *

these invoice orders I found on another of Rozsa's deleted files." He pointed to the stapled sheets he was referencing.

Monty looked at the first page, dated 6/6/2010.

2 couches $30,000.

4 chairs $20,000.

2 credenzas $50,000.

----------- Total due: $100,000.

The second invoice, dated 4/12/2010, was similar.

2 couches $30,000.

5 chairs $25,000.

1 credenza $25,000.

8 side tables $56,000.

----------- Total due: $136,000.

There were several more similar pages. "So Rozsa's been supplying something regularly to this New York ent.i.ty," Monty said, leafing through the manifests.

Reno nodded. "For at least two years. I would think the obvious conclusion is he's been selling his formulas." The room went silent as they considered the dire implications.

Monty flashed back to the news reports that dominated the airwaves just a month ago, chronicling the global pandemic Rozsa had unleashed. Could a secret US lab now be manufacturing another of the madman's lethal viruses? The development added even more urgency to their mission. "How long before you can track down the real account holder?" he asked.

"No telling, I'm afraid. US bank records are tough at best to access, and this account has so many protective layers, it's going to take time. The dummy furniture company is a front for a dummy LLC, and so on." Reno cleared his throat. "But I do have some positive news. Chase and Phantom reported that five people were at * 102 *

the brownstone the night the transfer occurred. We've already been able to eliminate three of them as suspects. That leaves one call girl and her john as possibilities."

Monty studied the next set of stapled printouts. A full-color photo of Heather Snyder's New York driver's license was stapled on top. Beneath it several pages contained her employment history, academic record, bank-account information, cell-phone records, and so on.

"She works at a fashion-design house by day and hooks at night," Reno summarized. "Has a brother who's very ill with kidney disease, and she's paying his bills while he waits for a transplant.

Her legit income doesn't come close to covering it, and I can't track how much she's making as a call girl, so she could conceivably have saved up the fifty grand that got sent to Rozsa from her IP address. Phantom says her john-goes by the name Dario-is also a reasonable bet. Snyder sees him every few days, so they hope to be able to ID him soon."

"Good work, Reno," Monty said. "Keep us posted, and let me know if you need additional help. You should get some rest soon." Although it wasn't unusual for ops to go days without sleep, Reno would push himself until he dropped to find Lynx. Monty hoped Jaclyn didn't do likewise.

* 103 *

* 104 *

ChaPter eleven.

Chase woke at six and, half an hour later, was ready to leave.

She'd been restless all night, unable to stop rehashing her conversation with Heather and the woman's resemblance to Emily.

Chase had met plenty of call girls and never questioned their reasons or judged their decision to sell their body, simply because she didn't care. She wanted a few hours of uncomplicated entertainment, not sad stories about broken homes, illegitimate children who needed to be fed, or abusive parents. All the woman had to be was attractive and, even though she practiced safe s.e.x, healthy.

Something about Heather, though, bothered her. Not because she was too beautiful to sell herself-plenty of stunning women did the same-but because so much about her didn't make sense.

Heather possessed an air of cla.s.s and undeniable innocence that didn't correspond with her lifestyle. Still not a reason she should care, though, Chase thought.

Still mystified as to why Heather was getting to her, Chase checked her watch. Reno should have sufficient information now to get them started. She was tempted to make the call immediately, but she'd never hear the end of it from Jack, who'd somehow deluded herself into thinking Operation Phoenix was her show. Not that Chase cared, but she planned to give Jack a chance.

She left her room and knocked on Jack's door. "Be at the car in five, or I leave without you," she announced, smiling inwardly as * 105 *

she headed for the car. She was almost there when she reached into her jacket for the keys.

"Don't bother," Jack said, rolling down the driver's window.

"When did you-"

"I'm a criminal, remember?"

"Last night in the hall."

Jack smiled and sipped from a Styrofoam cup. "Get in, Ms.

Daisy, we're losing daylight."

Chase suppressed a smile as she rounded the rental. The sun was still only a faint pink glow on the horizon. She was barely in the pa.s.senger seat when Jack dialed Reno's number. Chase was surprised Jack had waited for her to make the call.

"What do you have?" Jack asked.

"Phantom?" Reno sounded surprised, no doubt expecting Chase, who had communicated with him so far.

Jack's distaste for the code name was obvious. The muscles in her jaw twitched and she gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "Call me Jack."

"That's against protocol, I can't-"

"Screw the protocol and call me Jack." Reno hesitated. "Okay," he finally said. "Cross Ma.s.simo off.

The transfer wasn't made from his computer, and his school records indicate he's marginal in the brainpower department."

"What did you find on Heather?" Chase asked. "Sans slurping sounds," she added ominously.

Reno sighed. "Boy, the two of you are a delight to work with.

Maybe we can all vacation together some time." When neither replied, he said, "Okay. Heather Snyder. Parents deceased. Only sibling, Adam Snyder, chronically ill brother with kidney failure.

She visits him twice a week on average at an acute-care facility in the Bronx. His bills are sky-high."

"Explains the escort service," Chase said.

"Still doesn't explain how a call girl came up with fifty grand," Jack said.

"In my opinion," Reno went on, "the call girl is a viable suspect. Her day job doesn't pay much, and she was a straight-A * 106 *

student. We have no proof she's not involved or oblivious to what's happened. Could be that she was holding the cash for Rozsa as a sort of emergency fund. Maybe he was her main man before he disappeared, and when the s.h.i.t hit the fan and his accounts were depleted, he contacted her to send him the money."

"Why not have her arrested for conspiracy and withholding information?" Jack asked.

"We have no proof. She'd be out in twenty-four hours and could tip off Rozsa. Or her john, if he's the guy and she knows what's going on," Chase replied. "Arrange a surveillance van," she told Reno. "And park it as close to her residence as possible."

"Got it." He quickly briefed them on the other New York bank account he was tracking. "Anything else?"

"No," both replied.

"A thank you would be nice," Reno finally said.

"Send me Snyder's details. Residence and work," Chase replied, and Jack disconnected the call.

"Why does he always have to sound like a fresh-faced farm girl?" Jack frowned. "It's not healthy to be that happy."

"Huh?" Chase was still trying to digest Heather's possible involvement. Just then, Reno's text arrived with her home and work addresses and other pertinent information.

"What's the matter, princess?" Jack asked. "Not awake yet?"

"Drive," Chase said. "I just received the addresses."

"I say we start at her home. See if we can find anything relevant there. Her laptop, and maybe an appointment book. She should be at work till five."

"Let's go," Chase replied, as she plugged the street into the GPS. Could she really be that off about Heather? Why did she want to believe she wasn't? "We start surveilling the brownstone tonight.

My money is still on the mystery man."

"Getting into her home to hook up cams and mics will take some time."