Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(136)

"Huh. Well, I've got some info for you, too. Remember when you told me to check out your girlfriend's apartment?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Connor said harshly.

There was a delicate pause. "Uh…that sucks. But anyhow, I just left the place, and I found something really weirdo—"

"I don't have time for this, Seth!"

"Bear with me. It's relevant." Seth's tone was hard. "There was a vidcam mounted behind the wall paneling. Rigged with a short-range remote transmitter. Probably the receiver and recorder are in the same building. The setup is crude. Looks homemade."

Connor swallowed, hard. "Holy shit. That is weird."

"Oh, I haven't even gotten to the weird part yet," Seth said. "About that vidcam, uh… you don't know anything about it, do you, Con?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Why would I? What is it about the goddamn vidcam? Spit it out, Seth!"

"It's yours," Seth said bluntly. "I sold it to Davy, and he passed it on to you. It's the one that got stolen in that burglary at your house a few months ago. I know it's yours. Because I marked it."

Connor tried to find space in his mind for that piece of info. His brain refused to accommodate it. "Huh?"

"Is there something you're not telling me, Con?"

Seth's voice had a cold, suspicious edge to it that Connor had never heard, at least not directed toward him. Panic jolted through him, at the thought that even Seth might abandon him.

"Fuck, no!" he burst out. "I didn't plant that thing. Not me!"

"Good." Seth's relief was palpable. "That's sort of what I figured. A hidden vidcam in a girl's bedroom isn't your style. It's more like something I would do. You're too much of a tight-ass Dudley Do-Right for a dirty trick like that."

"Thanks for your touching faith in me," Connor said.

"Anytime, man, anytime. The first thing you need to do is to turn on your phone so I can scramble you. It makes me nervous to talk—"

"I don't have the phone," Connor said. "I gave it to Erin."

"You gave the phone to Erin?" Seth repeated slowly.

"Yes! I did!" he yelled. "Will you guys please stop giving me shit about the rucking phone?"

"And she has it on her now?" Seth persisted.

"How the hell should I know? She put it in her purse last night. I assume she has it. Why shouldn't she?"

Seth started to laugh.

"What is so goddamn funny?"

"You just solved all our problems in one blow," Seth said. "We'll use the phone to find her."

Connor's hand tightened on the phone. "Come again?"

"There's a beacon in your phone. It feeds off the battery, so if it's been charged recently, it should be transmitting."

"You planted a beacon on me? Why?" he demanded.

"You never know when you might need to find your friends in a hurry." Seth's voice was defensive. "I put 'em in Davy's and Sean's phones, too, so don't take it personally. Besides, you get your ass in a sling on a regular basis. I felt more than justified."

Connor started to grin. "I'm gonna pound you when this is all over for planting shit on me," he warned.

"Yeah, but right now, when I'm useful, you love me and I'm golden. I've heard that tune before. I'll head home and key the code into my computer. Get over here, and we'll mobilize."

"Call Sean and Davy for me," Connor said.

"Watch yourself," Seth said.

Connor bounded down the remaining two flights like his feet were on springs. It was beautiful, it was amazing, it was awesome, that his pathologically sneaky gearhead friend had actually had the brilliant good sense to plant a bug in his phone. He dodged and spun around gurneys and wheelchairs, leaving shouts of furious protest behind him. He sped toward the parking garage and dug out his keys.

The door of the gray SUV with tinted windows parked next to his car swung opened, and discharged a tall, black-clad bald man.

Connor reeled back with a gasp. The guy was a hideous apparition: pallid and hairless, blue eyes burning out of dark pits, a scarred, grotesque face. A gap-toothed leer.

Georg Luksch.

Georg's arm flashed up, took aim. Connor heard a popping sound, felt a stab of pain, an explosion of helpless fury. A dart was poking out of his chest. He fought it, but he was already sagging onto the asphalt.

Shadows overtook him. The world melted into formless darkness.



"Punctual, as always," Tamara murmured, when she met them at the door. "And who is this?"

"This is my friend Tonia Vasquez," Erin said. "Tonia, this is Tamara Julian. I told you about her."

"How do you do? What a fabulous outfit," Tonia gushed.

Tamara gave her a lofty smile. "How kind of you to say so."

Tamara was dressed in black, a severe high-necked jacket paired with a billowing black taffeta skirt. The heels of her shiny, pointy-toed boots clicked over the dizzying swirls of antique tile on the mosaic floor. She glanced back over her shoulder. "I'm relieved that you made it. Mr. Mueller was distressed when you ran away last night. He was afraid he'd offended you. We weren't sure you'd be back."