Hellbent (Orphan X #3)(101)

A moment later Van Sciver’s voice came through. “Code.”

Lyle checked the screen. “‘Merrily dogwood.’”

“Go.”

“It’s her. It’s the girl.”

She drifted close enough that Lyle no longer required the scope. She set a bunch of flowers before the grave and paused, her face downturned, murmuring something to the earth.

“Do not approach,” Van Sciver said. “Repeat: Do not approach. Track her at a distance in case X is watching. Pick your moment and get her tagged. Let her lead us to him.”

Enzo dropped open the glove box. Inside were a variety of GPS tracking devices—microdots, magnetic transmitters for vehicle wheel wells, a vial of digestible silicon microchips.

The girl headed off, and Lyle tapped the gas and drifted around the cemetery’s perimeter, keeping her in sight. “Copy that.”

*

Twenty minutes later Lyle sat in a crowded taqueria, sipping over-cinnamoned horchata and peering across the plaza to where the target sat at a café patio table. Lyle had a Nikon secured around his neck with camera straps sporting the Arizona State University logo. Smudges of zinc-intensive sunscreen and a proud-alumnus polo shirt completed the in-town-for-a-game look.

He pretended to fuss with the camera, zeroing in with the zoom lens on the girl. Scanning across the patio, he picked up on Pellegrini inside the café, leaning against the bar and swirling a straw in his Arnold Palmer. A few orders slid across the counter, awaiting pickup. Pellegrini removed a vial of microchips, dumped them in a water glass, and used his straw to stir them in.

He’d just resumed his loose-limbed slump against the bar when the waitress swung past and grabbed the tray. As she carried the salad and spiked water glass over to Joey’s table and set them down, Pellegrini exited the café from the opposite side and walked to the bordering street where they’d parked the truck.

Lyle kept the Nikon pinned on the water glass resting near Joey’s elbow. From this distance the liquid looked perfectly clear, the tiny black microchips invisible. Once ingested, they would mass in the stomach, where they’d be stimulated by digestive juices and emit a GPS signal every time the host ate or drank. The technology had recently been improved, no longer requiring a skin patch to transmit the signal, which made for easier stealth deployment. But with this upgrade came a trade-off; the signal’s duration was shorter, remaining active for only ten minutes after mealtime. The microchips broke down and passed from the system in just forty-eight hours.

Van Sciver was banking on the fact that at some point within two days she’d be in proximity to Orphan X.

The girl poked at her salad, then rested her hand on the water glass. Lyle willed her to pick it up and drink, but something on her phone had captured her attention. She removed her hand, and he grimaced.

He had to put the camera down to avoid suspicion, so he took another chug of sugary horchata while he watched her thumb at her phone and not drink water.

His Samsung vibrated, and he answered.

“Code,” Van Sciver said.

Lyle checked the screen. “‘Teakettle lovingly.’”

“Update.”

“The table’s set. We’re just waiting on her to do her part.”

“Mechanism?”

“Water glass.”

“I’ll hold on the line,” Van Sciver said.

Lyle swallowed to moisten his throat. “Okay.”

The silence was uncomfortable.

Enough time had passed that Lyle could fiddle with his Nikon again without drawing attention. He lifted it up, watched Joey chewing and gazing absentmindedly into the middle distance. The sun was directly overhead, warming the patio. They were in fucking Arizona. Why wouldn’t she just take a sip of water?

At last she wiped her mouth. She reached for the glass. She lifted it from the table.

A figure loomed behind her, blurry in the zoom-lens close-up. A hand lifted the water glass out of the girl’s hand.

Lyle adjusted the focus, found himself staring at Orphan X.

How the hell did X know the water had been spiked?

Abruptly, Lyle was perspiring. The ASU polo stuck to the small of his back. X was saying something to the girl.

Lyle’s breathing must have changed, because Van Sciver said, “What? What is it?”

Lyle started at the voice; he had forgotten about the phone pressed to his cheek. His mind whirled, assessing the best phrasing of the update. He opened his mouth, but dread prevented any words from exiting.

The girl rose to leave.

Orphan X paused by her chair, water glass still in hand.

Then he drank it down.

As X followed the girl out of the plaza, Lyle felt his mouth drop open a bit wider. A chime announced the GPS beacon going live on his Samsung.

Van Sciver said, “What happened?”

It took Lyle two tries to get the words out. “We just hit the jackpot.”

*

Samsung in hand, Lyle ran across the plaza to where Pellegrini waited in the idling truck. Lyle jumped in, eyeing the GPS grid, gesturing madly for Pellegrini to turn right.

“There, there, there! We only have seven minutes left.”

Pellegrini looked confused by Lyle’s urgency. “We got the girl?”

Lyle said, “We got Orphan X.”

Pellegrini’s expression went flat with shock. The tires chirped as he pulled out. Lyle directed him around the block, following the blinking dot on his screen.