“We need to narrow this down more, Midnight,” she pushed. “Do we know which ship he’s getting into position?” More than that, where was that ship being sent?
Tapping continued while she thought about the Collector. He had not been known to do more than be the connection between someone who wanted a person kidnapped and delivering on the contract. Nothing had registered about the Collector involved with some sort of attack, but that didn’t absolve him of being a dangerous criminal.
“Got it down to two ships that would fit the time frame. One is a day ahead o’ the other.”
“That first one could be our ship.”
He argued, “I won’t be sayin’ that ’till we figure out where they both be endin’ up Thursday.”
She rubbed her eyes and shook off the weariness. She paid him well, but she understood how little appreciation someone in his position received since every bit of intel was confidential.
“That’s damn good work, Midnight. Far better than I could have done even if I had your computer chops.”
“Thank ya, Hellie,” came back quietly.
“Okay, so we have something happening in four or five days and maybe a ship in place before that moment.” Not information that would help her find Phoebe, but she’d learned from years of hunting lost or captured children that patience often won in the end. If only she had some. Shaking off another yawn, she said, “On to my next question.”
“Ya mean the guy wot ya sent me the vid shot of mebbe?”
“Yes. Was it enough to use facial recognition?”
“Found somethin’ interestin’,” he started slowly. “’Ere’s wot I’ve run up against. The system pinged a perfect match by the name of Samuel Leclair—”
“Excellent!” She had a name for her badass muscle-bound white knight without a horse.
“Hode on, Hellie. I cain’t find anythin’ useful on ’im once he walked out on high school. Looks like he was sucked up by the military and pretty much vanished at that point.”
“Crap. You’re kidding.”
“Notdooone,” he said in his wait-for-it voice. “I opened a wider search and found yar bloke with a group of people in Nigeria to do water treatment.”
“That cover would fit for an operator.”
“Those pictures were taken three days ago and posted to a blog claimin’ they’d been gone a month.”
She lowered her plastic fork. No way. “Did it list his name?”
“Eh ... no.”
“That has to be him.”
“Someone is goin’ to a lot of trouble to keep others from findin’ this one.”
She straightened. “What else? What about where he grew up and went to school, things like that?” Normally, that would all be bogus information for an operative or spy.
“He carried a 3.9 grade average, but a month from graduatin’ he entered the military. No online account. Nothin’ helpful electronically.”
The first encouraging tingle rippled over her skin. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Wot? Ya thinkin’ wot I’m thinkin’, Hellie?”
“Uh huh. If he had nothing to hide, he’d have left a normal trail.” She tossed around a couple of thoughts and asked, “What about his family?”
“Standby.” A minute later, Midnight mumbled something then cleared his throat. “I sent everythin’ for ya to download. At seventeen, the bobbies arrested ’im, and that’s probably why he ended up in the military.”
Who was this guy? She pushed the food away, her appetite gone. She was on the hunt. “What do you have from his arrest?”
“They locked ’is records ...”
