The Rescue(64)
“My guess is they’ll think they’re outsmarting the system.”
“That’s the whole point of the modification.”
“What are the Fourth Amendment ramifications of the extended recognition range?” said Kincaid.
Watts smiled slyly. “There’s a section in the document addressing that.”
Kincaid glanced at Reeves and raised an eyebrow.
“The legality of this modification hasn’t been explored yet,” said Reeves. “In other words, we can’t use any evidence spawned from this surveillance.”
“You can use it,” said Watts. “But any good lawyer will get it thrown out of court.”
“And I’d get thrown out of the FBI,” said Reeves. “Speaking of getting thrown out of the FBI, can you add another face to the list?”
“I assume you don’t want anyone knowing about this face?”
“Just you and me.”
“And him,” said Watts, nodding at Kincaid.
“I suppose we don’t have a choice,” said Reeves, pulling out his phone. “I have his name and a few pictures. Is that enough?”
“Is the name real?”
“It appears to be real.”
“And the pictures?”
“Driver’s license and passport.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re real.”
“Good point,” said Reeves. “I believe they’re real.”
“Then that’s all I’ll need. I’ll call you with a link to access the special order. The rest you’ll get in your FBI inbox,” said Watts. “Anyone I know? If this is your boss or your wife, I’m kicking it out of the system.”
“I’ve never heard of the guy before. Not many people have.”
“Sounds intriguing,” said Watts. “I won’t ask any more questions. Curiosity killed the cat or something like that.”
“Probably for the better,” said Reeves. “I get the feeling this guy killed a few cats in his career.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Decker sat at the motel desk and studied the satellite images Harlow had emailed him, satisfied that he’d found Pierce’s foothills hideout. Not bad for a little under an hour of searching, especially after having spent most of the day on the road. He could finally relax a little, grab a bite to eat, and knock off early for the night.
He’d decided to end the day’s journey in Albuquerque after eight straight hours on the road. The sun had already dropped low on the horizon, appearing in the top of his side mirrors, when signs for Albuquerque started to appear.
By the time the sun vanished, Decker had settled in to the Day’s Inn just east of the downtown area. The motel suited his purposes perfectly, offering tidy rooms in a safe part of town. He’d taken a room on the first floor so he could park right in front of his door and haul all of his gear inside without arousing suspicion. At Harlow’s recommendation, he’d stopped at a nearby Walmart before checking in to the motel and purchased a large flat-screen monitor to help process the satellite imagery. She’d been right about the monitor. There was no way he could have properly scoured the detailed imagery she’d provided on the tiny laptop screen.
At least he hoped he’d found Pierce. Admittedly, the whole thing was a long shot, based on his recollection of several dozen conversations of varying length and detail with his former best friend and a single, spontaneously planned visit to the future site of the Pierce homestead after finishing a job in Denver.
He didn’t remember too many details about the location, other than it was accessible by a jeep trail heading due west out of Aguilar and lay between two ridgelines in a shallow valley. The structure he’d identified on one of the satellite images matched the description perfectly and was the only house that deep in the foothills. It had to be his place. The only question was whether Pierce was still there. Decker suspected he was.
The Pierces hadn’t started construction on their retirement getaway before Hemet. They’d still been in the early design phase. The presence of a house on that land could only mean one thing: Pierce had gone ahead with the project after vanishing.
It was the perfect hiding place. Pierce had paid for thirty-something acres of land with cash, in a transaction that had more than likely been sealed with a handshake and a simple deed transfer—the latter of the two likely recorded under an obscure corporation name or alias he’d never used before. Untraceable to anyone without knowledge of Pierce’s original intent, which was why Decker was convinced he was there.
Hungry from the long trip, Decker briefly considered driving to one of the dozen or so chain restaurants within a few minutes of the motel. He scrapped the idea just as quickly after glancing at the gear arrayed on one of the beds. Pizza delivery might be the better option. The area around the motel felt safe enough, but he couldn’t risk losing the rifles to a local thief staking out the hotel.
The gun shop outside Las Vegas had required him to produce a Nevada ID to purchase them, and Nevada had some of the most lenient gun laws on the books. If New Mexico had the same requirement, he’d have no choice but to drive the eight hours back to Nevada. Going after Pierce without the rifles wasn’t an option. If his former friend and colleague caught wind of Decker’s approach before he settled into one of the ridges above Pierce’s homestead, he’d need the range and firepower to get out of there in one piece.