End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(17)

Sometimes it created a situation where someone else felt threatened, but most of the time—like now—it caused the men to realize she was special. She was in charge because she was better at this than they were, regardless of her time in service.

She smiled and accepted his latent apology, shaking his hand. She said, “Is it a cell number?”

He began scrolling through the history of the device, saying, “No. It’s the MAC address for the phone, tablet, or computer he used. A unique identifier for the device. It’s a number that registers every time you attach to a Wi-Fi node.”

She said, “Can we get a cell number from the MAC? Or trace that by itself?”

“No, it’s not like a cell number that interfaces with the network. Its trace ends here at the sign-on to the Mi-Fi. But that number is a unique address to whoever killed her. If we get his phone—or whatever he used—we can prove he was here.”

She liked the “we” part of that. Franco was now on board. And like many endeavors involving teamwork, the sum of the parts was greater than the whole. They would find this man. All they had to do was keep digging.

She only prayed that they’d locate him before he killed again.

Franco said, “Whoa. Whoever has that MAC just signed on again. He’s live.”

Lia came over and saw the device registered one active user. “It’s the same MAC?”

“Yeah. My bet is the guy lives near here and his phone automatically connected when he went to a window or something, like when you enter a Starbucks you’ve been in before. He doesn’t realize it’s connected.”

Lia thought for a moment, then said, “No. We’re in a trailer next to a park. The closest living spaces are blocks away. There’s no way it’s someone staying nearby. That thing doesn’t have the power.”

Franco said, “So the device is in here somewhere. Left behind.”

“But you just said you saw it appear. If it was left behind, it would have been connected when we entered.” She turned in a circle, going through the problem set, then said, “I think you’re right. He’s here, close by, but doesn’t know it’s connected.”

“Why?”

“He’s come back to see the murder. To watch us work.”



Sitting in his car across the street, Garrett watched Lia exit the trailer, seeing a lanyard with a badge on her neck. The same woman at the last murder scene. He assumed he had made mistakes and that the woman was going to find connections between the killings—something he needed to short-circuit. Not for the long term, because his plan was in motion, and if he died after it succeeded, it wouldn’t matter. He would be in heaven with the Holy Father, but he couldn’t afford to have her interfere with the plan.

Maybe he’d disrupt whatever theory she’d created. Kill her like he had the others. That would really cause a reassessment on their part. Make it look like the others, only it wouldn’t be a prostitute.

Something to think about.

He studied her, going through the problem, then realized she was looking at the line of cars on the street where he’d parked. As if she knew he was close and was searching.

How could she know?

Unnerved, he put the car in reverse, did a three-point turn, and drove away without passing her.





Chapter 11




The flight to Switzerland was about nine hours, which meant almost a full workday of Shoshana sniping at me about telling George Wolffe what we were doing. I saw her glowering after takeoff, and I’d opted to go to sleep, telling Jennifer to keep an eye out because I wasn’t sure of Shoshana’s intentions.

Jennifer punched my arm and said, “Come on. Don’t be mean. You did say you wouldn’t tell Wolffe.”

“That was before the U.S. ambassador to the Holy See was killed.”

She ignored my request to act as my guardian angel and snuggled into my shoulder to fall asleep herself. I closed my eyes, waited a bit, then cracked them open.

Sitting across from me in the plush leather chair of the Gulfstream aircraft was Shoshana, the Dark Angel, still scowling at me.

I pretended not to notice and tried to go to sleep, wondering if she was going to do something while I was out. I didn’t really think that . . . but a part of me did. She’d come close to killing me a few times already, and I hadn’t realized how my interactions with George Wolffe would set her off. I still wasn’t sure if it was what I’d discussed, or just the fact that I had discussed it after telling her I wouldn’t.

Eventually, I’d fallen asleep, and seven hours later had awakened, groggily rubbing my eyes. When I opened them, she was still awake. And still glowering.

I looked to her left, seeing Aaron racked out next to the window, then shifted in my seat slightly, not wanting to wake up Jennifer. I’d learned early in my military career that you never knew when you’d get sleep, so you had better take it while you could.

Seeing no help around the aircraft, I said, “You’re still mad at me.”

She said, “I told you not to say anything—especially about the Israeli passports.”

“Shoshana, I had to tell him. If it was just me and Jennifer, I could make it up, but you wanted Knuckles and Brett. I can’t take my team on a mission using Israeli passports without letting him know. Come on. We’re acting like spies now, and the Taskforce has some level of risk involved just by our presence.”