Pike watched at high speed, but the image still moved in slow motion because he thought about Azzara, and how he could find him. More joggers came and went, but most were female and the few men didn’t appear to be likely candidates for experienced knife killers. Pike saw himself arrive, and leave, but no one else appeared on the street. Pike had skimmed through one hour and twenty minutes of the three-hour window when Cole returned from the deck, looking unhappy.

Pike paused the recording.

“What?”

“That was Lucy’s investigator. The guy I told you about, Terry Babinette.”

Pike waited, knowing from Cole’s expression the news wasn’t good.

“After the storm, the city put up websites so people could post the names of friends and family members who evacuated or were missing. All Terry had to work with were their names, so this isn’t definitive, okay?”

“Say it.”

“The names Drusilla Rayne and Wilson Smith are on a list of the dead. Drusilla Rayne was a forty-two-year-old Caucasian who died indigent at Charity Hospital three days before the storm. Wilson Smith was a seventy-six-year-old African-American male who died of a heart attack while being evacuated to Natchez, Mississippi. No known relatives for either. That’s it.”

Pike felt achy and numb. The man and the woman he knew as Wilson Smith and Dru Rayne had taken their names from the dead, and probably used the deceaseds’ social security numbers to assume their identities.

Pike didn’t know what to say, and now Cole looked uncomfortable.

“You want to look at more video?”

“No point.”

“What do you want to do?”

Pike glanced at the frozen screen, then stood.

“Azzara has them. I’m going to take a shower, then I’m going to find Azzara.”

Pike left Cole at the computer and walked back to the guest room.

Chapter 30

30

Daniel

Daniel said, “If our intel on the Mexican is accurate, I’ll know their location before noon.”

The Bolivian sounded more excited than Daniel had ever heard the man, which meant all the Bolivians were excited. Daniel pictured them sitting around in their compounds, strokin’ their stiffies, thinkin’ they were finally gonna get their revenge. Nothing those nasty little fuckers liked better than vengeance, and now they would have it. Thanks to Daniel.

“Stand by, sir—”

Daniel waited for the thunder of a departing Hawker business jet to fade before he continued. Those Hawkers were nice.

“Sorry, sir, I’m at the airport. Were we able to confirm the flight departed this morning?”

Yammer yammer.

“All right, yes, that’s perfect. Do we have the aircraft registration number or its make and model?”

Yammer.

Cleo said, “Yammer.”

Tobey said, “Yammer.”

Daniel shushed them.

“Shh.”