Читать книгу Without A Trace - Sandra K. Moore - Страница 11

That evening Nikki settled back in her home office desk chair while staring at the e-mail messages coming in. One of them, sent from the mysterious Delphi, churned in state-of-the-art decryption software Dana Velasco had given her. While Nikki waited, she absently finger-combed her curly hair, damp from her long shower.

The dead girl’s face still flashed in her mind every so often, taking her unawares—while getting into her Jeep, when she opened her modest town house’s front door, while she stood under the pounding hot water. Her job could be a bitch sometimes, not for what she did or had to do, but for what she had to face.

In the meantime, maybe the e-mail from Delphi would take her mind off the girl.

Seconds later, the decryption software spat up a simple message:

Signal broadcast from 25° 37’ 33.94” N, 79° 38’10.18” W. What vessels passed through these coordinates on April 27 at 4:30 p.m.?

Stand by for contact.

Nikki sat forward as she read. Decrypted, but cryptic, just like the message back in February about watching her back.

So the signal had come through just two days ago. And that location was definitely within her jurisdiction, in the commercial shipping lanes just outside the Port of Miami. Ever thorough, she double-checked the lat-longs against the navigational chart hanging on her office wall for confirmation.

Staring at the chart’s looping blue depth lines, she frowned. Dozens of container ships, tankers, cruise ships and tugs passed through those lanes on their way to and from the Port of Miami every day. That bay was heavily trafficked at all hours.

Fortunately, she knew just who to tap. Two-Finger Jimmy owed her a favor or three. Time to pay up.

Nikki flipped through her mental Rolodex and pulled up Two-Finger Jimmy’s pager number. Jimmy Delano worked on the clerical side of the Port of Miami, which meant she and Jimmy went back a couple of years comparing notes on port traffic for Homeland Security. Last year she’d spent her off-hours helping him track down his niece, who had disappeared in Little Havana. After a week of searching, they’d found her on a ritzy yacht anchored near South Beach. She’d had a heroin buzz and a nasty case of VD. Considering she was only fifteen, the authorities had not looked kindly on the sleazy television producer who’d introduced her to high-dollar whoredom under the guise of making her a star.

Within minutes, Two-Finger Jimmy’s number flashed on her ringing cell.

“James!” she said.

“What have I done now?”

“It’s what you’re going to do for me.”

His voice dropped, got husky. “You know what I’d like to do for you.”

Nikki laughed. Two-Finger Jimmy had a jockey’s physique, was happily married to a woman roughly the size of a wall and was old enough to be her grandfather. “Yeah, I do know. You’d like to look through the port logs for a vessel that might have passed through a waypoint I’m going to give you.”

Jimmy chuckled. “That’s second on my list. How’ve you been?”

She shot the breeze with him for a few minutes before cutting to the chase and giving him the lat-longs and date and time information. “Think you can track down the ships that might have passed through those coordinates?”

“Are you kidding? I have technology on my side. You’re still filling out forms in triplicate, aren’t you? On a Smith-Corona?”

“Screw you,” Nikki retorted good-naturedly.

“Why, look here, chica, I’ve got the goods.”

She grabbed a pen and pulled a legal pad close. “Hit me.”

“You’ve got two ships going out and one ship coming in that could have hit that waypoint around that time. The one coming in was an oil tanker out of Saudi.”

“Talk to me about the ones going out.”

“One’s Maersk-Sealand—their regular shipment. The other’s an outfit called ‘SHA.’ S. H. A.”

“What were they carrying?”

“You don’t ask much, do you?” Two-Finger Jimmy huffed but Nikki also heard the speedy clicking of the typing technique that had earned him his nickname.

“Maersk-Sealand was routing long-haul trucks to Australia.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“SHA was…” He trailed off, then grunted. “It’s hard to tell what these clowns were shipping. Uno momento.” His off-key whistling set in.

Not a good sign. It meant he was puzzled, and a puzzled Two-Finger Jimmy usually meant trouble.

“Textiles,” he said finally. “Handwoven.”

“Textiles?”

“Ye-a-ah.” He drew the word out nice and slow. “Big bolts of cloth.”

“I know what textiles are, James. Aren’t they going in the wrong direction?”

“Most textiles come in, but we do ship out occasionally. Problem is, this is about a half load.”

“Doesn’t sound very cost-effective.”

Jimmy grunted. “It’s not. SHA’s losing its ass on that container ship.”

“Nothing but big bolts of cloth?”

Keys clicked. “Nothing that shows on the electronic manifest. Hang on. Let me check the hard copy.” Papers fluttered. “Okay, a last-minute load. One container.”

“Contents?”

“Not listed.” Jimmy whistled. “Someone at SHA has been a ba-aa-ad boy. All container contents are s’posed to be logged and checked by customs twenty-four hours before loading. Looks like this one got loaded up after the rest of the ship’s containers were inspected.”

“Could that container have bypassed a customs inspection?”

“Only if money changed hands somewhere down the line.”

“Sounds like a snakehead’s involved,” she said.

“Human smuggling? Stowaways usually try to get in, not out.”

“True.” She thought for a moment. “What do you know about SHA?” she asked as she used Google to search the company name.

“They log about six, seven shipments a year. Small scratch. Manifest says they have offices in Hong Kong, Singapore and Istanbul.”

“Where’s this boat headed?”

“Itinerary says Hong Kong. Should take about four weeks to get there.”

Four weeks from April 27 meant the container ship would be in port in less than a month, give or take the weather.

Then a thought occurred to her. “Were any civilian passengers logged for this trip?” Sometimes adventurers would book passage on a commercial shipper as an alternative to flying. The signal Oracle picked up might have originated from a passenger.

Jimmy rummaged on the keyboard for a moment, then said, “One guy. An Alexander Wryzynski.”

Nikki scribbled down the name as he spelled it for her. “Thanks for the trouble, Jimmy. I owe you.”

“Anything for you, chica, anytime.” He clicked off.

Nikki’s smile faded as the search engine came up with about twenty-eight thousand incomprehensible listings for SHA.

SHA, she discovered, was a database programming tool used to encrypt data, so the vast majority of the search links led to either propeller-head sites or to database companies. Including shipping, transport and China in the search term brought up more programming links, only in Chinese.

The manifest had listed the SHA company as based in Hong Kong, with offices in Singapore and Istanbul. She tried a search with those cities and shipping, and dropped SHA. Bingo. A plethora of shipping companies, none of which were SHA. What shipping company these days didn’t have a Web site?

So a little-known shipping company had sent a light load of handwoven textiles in the least likely direction for such goods to go, and taken on a single container of unknown contents that had bypassed U.S. Customs and Border Control.

It smelled as rotten as the shrimp she’d raked this morning.

Nikki blew out a breath. She had her mark. She fired off two words via e-mail to Delphi: Got it. Now she’d just wait to be contacted.

Delphi’s e-mail warning back in February had been followed up by a face-to-face visit from a former classmate, Dana Velasco. Dana had been two years ahead of Nikki and now test-piloted experimental planes for a major aircraft manufacturer. Oracle, Dana had told her, was an intelligence-digesting system run by someone known only as Delphi.

“I don’t know who Delphi is,” Dana had said over a crowd of lively teenagers as they walked down Calle Ocho in Little Havana, “but they’ve used Oracle to piece together puzzles intelligence agencies can’t manage on their own.”

“And Athena figures in how?”

Dana had only shrugged. “A lot of what gets pieced together has to do with the academy. And students like you.”

Students like you. Nikki sighed and kicked back in her office chair. Students like her, who’d been manipulated at the genetic level, unbeknownst to their parents.

Jaime and Teresita Bustillo hadn’t wanted much—just a girl. Seven sons had kept their upscale East Flagstaff construction business going, but they’d wanted one last chance at a daughter. That’s where the fertility clinic in Zuni, New Mexico, came in. The clinic, doctors assured her parents, could guarantee a girl.

They just hadn’t mentioned that the girl, conceived in vitro and implanted in her mother’s womb, would be born with a little something extra. That little secret would be kept until only a few months ago, when Delphi made her phone call and Nikki finally understood the details about where her “gift” had come from. Nikki, Delphi had made clear, wasn’t the only girl to have a special talent.

Another, Nikki knew immediately, was her best friend, Jessica Whittaker. Jess had been two years ahead of Nikki at the academy, but something had drawn them together. Maybe it was the fact they were both “egg babies,” even though they, at the time, had had no idea why they could do what they could. Maybe it was that Jess seemed like the older sister Nikki didn’t have. Whichever, as Nikki had grown up at Athena Academy, she’d found herself closer to Jess than even to her Hecate sisters.

Egg baby. Jess could breathe water and Nikki had a nose like a bloodhound. It was almost as if the scientists at Lab 33 had been splicing in the traits that humans longed for but didn’t have.

Which often made Nikki wonder if Catwoman really did exist out there. Or someone more brutal, more cunning, more…insane.

Her cell buzzed and Nikki caught it on the second tone. “Bustillo.”

“Girlfriend!”

“Dana!” Nikki replied, grinning. “¿Cómo estás, chica?”

“Hell, Nik,” Dana groaned. “My Spanish still sucks, okay?”

“You said you were going to practice.”

“Life’s short but the journey’s busy. Let’s eat.”

“Name the place.”

“That little club we didn’t get to check out last time I was there. In a half hour.”

Nikki hung up. The little club they’d missed was called Hoy Como Ayer, a few blocks away, and it deserved something much nicer than her gray sweat-pants and a ragged T-shirt. She dug through her closet until she came up with a red knit top and a short black skirt with a bit of flare to the hem.

Twenty minutes later Nikki sat in a corner table as far away from the little stage as she could get. A couple of youths unloaded gear from a lowered pickup truck outside; Thursday nights jammed with class acts from the finest musicians and singers working the circuit. According to Nikki’s watch, she had five minutes to wait for Dana and another hour before the night’s live music would start.

On the dot, Dana wound through the growing throng toward her table. Dressed in a flowing, flowery skirt and a solid black top, her dark hair loose on her shoulders, Dana looked striking—and totally unlike a turista.

“Hey, girl,” Nikki said as she rose to hug Dana.

“Have you heard from Jess?” Dana asked casually as she pulled out a chair.

“Not since a phone call before she left on vacation.” Nikki put a not-so-slight emphasis on vacation.

Dana’s impassive face said as much as Nikki had guessed already: Jess wasn’t on vacation, but doing something that was no doubt extremely dangerous. For the same Delphi that had contacted Nikki in February? Because she and Jess were both targeted for kidnapping because of their genetic mutations?

“Have you talked to Jess recently?” Nikki asked. As former classmates in the same year, Dana and Jess might have kept in contact more frequently than even Nikki and Jess, though Nikki doubted it. Her surrogate big sister always stayed in touch. Even when she had to be coy about what she was up to, like in their last conversation.

Dana shook her head as a waiter arrived. “No, I haven’t heard from her. What’s a mojito?”

“Better than a kick in the head,” Nikki muttered, irritated that Dana was being close-lipped about their mutual friend.

“I’ll have a mojito,” Dana told the waiter.

“Agua,” Nikki said to him.

“Spoilsport.”

Nikki merely nodded. They both knew Dana would take a sip, maybe two, from her drink and then leave the rest. Dana couldn’t afford to be off her game when she was on duty.

Whatever on duty meant for her.

After they ordered, Nikki grabbed a baked plantain chip and hit the spicy guacamole with it. “What’s up?”

“You found what we’re looking for.”

“Maybe.” Nikki relayed the information she’d gotten from Two-Finger Jimmy and finished up with, “So the SHA shipment to Hong Kong looks like the one you want. It’s carrying a passenger and a suspicious cargo container.”

Dana waited until the waiter served their drinks and left.

“Sounds like you’ve pegged it.” Dana sipped the mojito—a concoction of rum, lime juice and mint, among other things—and smiled broadly. “Can I get this to go?”

“Not in this town. What’s going on with the container ship?”

Dana twirled the mint sprig in her drink. “Athena needs you to track it. It has something we want.”

“Athena needs it?” Nikki frowned. “Is this related to our kidnapping conversation from a couple of months ago?”

“I can’t say.” Then after a moment, Dana added, “I’m not authorized.”

Nikki’s frown deepened but she couldn’t suppress the urge to lean on her friend. “Is it related to Jess’s vacation?”

Dana said nothing.

Nikki cursed inwardly. Dana’s silence meant yes, but the woman would never say. “Look, you can’t expect me to keep running your little errands without telling me something of what’s going on. I’m in danger, Jess is in danger.” And when her friend still kept quiet, Nikki added, “Throw me a bone here, Dana. Give me something or I walk.”

Dana leaned back in her chair, her face immobile, as if considering.

Nikki, thoroughly annoyed, tossed her napkin on the table. “Are you talking or am I walking?” She felt a slim satisfaction when Dana leaned forward.

“Last time we talked face-to-face, I told you about Arachne.”

“Yeah, crazy woman trying to kidnap Athena students with special talents.”

“I didn’t tell you that she succeeded. With some Athena students.”

Nikki’s breath caught in her throat. There was no telling what someone like Arachne might do with genetically modified children. Children. Nikki tried to ignore her own fear scent rising in her nostrils. “How many?”

“Two, plus one eager beaver who was instrumental in our blowing up a Lab 33 wannabe in Kestonia.” Dana’s sharp eyes must have picked up on Nikki’s face because she said quickly, “It’s okay. We got them all back, safe and sound.”

Relief swept like cool water through Nikki’s veins. It was one thing for this Arachne to try to kidnap a grown woman, and another thing entirely for her to target girls. And succeed, no matter how temporarily.

Nikki nodded. “Good.”

“But we’ve had other information come to light and that’s why I’m here. If you’re willing to serve Athena.”

Nikki’s chin lifted as anger swirled in her gut. Dana knew her better than that. Stung, she retorted, “There’s no ‘if’ about it. What do you want me to do?”

“The signal we had you track came from someone called Diviner. We don’t know who Diviner is, but we need him. Or her.”

“You’re sure the perp is human?” Nikki asked, thinking of Alexander Wryzynski.

Dana nodded. “We intercepted an instant message, definitely generated by a human. He, or she, thought he was talking to Bryan Ellis.”

“The congressman.”

“The congressman who tried to kill Francesca Thorne two months ago. He’s been charged with conspiracy to commit murder.”

“I remember Chesca. I ran into her once on the firing range.” Nikki frowned. “She didn’t say much but I could have sworn her eyes would cut glass. Like she could see right through me.”

“Quiet and thoughtful,” Dana agreed.

“And scary,” Nikki added.

“Bryan Ellis gave us Diviner as part of his plea bargain. When we made contact, we came away with the signal location, but that was all. I’ll look into Wryzynski. That’s the best lead we’ve got.”

“Where do I come in?” Nikki asked.

Dana pitched the straw into her drink and settled back. “Care for a trip to Hong Kong?”

Nikki regarded Dana for a moment. “I have leave coming up. Might be able to get a couple of weeks if I ask nicely.”

“Then you’ll do it.”

Dana was all business, even when she was being friendly. She knew about Nikki’s origins in Lab 33, just as she knew Jess’s. She also worked for the mysterious Delphi, who herself—or himself—was the mouthpiece for the more mysterious Oracle.

And all these pieces came together around the Athena Academy, where Nikki had found herself surrounded for the first time by women. Not just women. Like-minded women who were driven by a sense of purpose, and who weren’t afraid to sacrifice whatever it took to achieve a greater good.

Like the people on the shrimp trawler this morning, who’d been willing to sacrifice everything—homes, jobs, community—to bring their children to a foreign land for a chance at a better life. For the greater good of the family.

Nikki knew about the greater good of the family. She had her own family full of crazy, laughing brothers and loving parents. She had the Hecates and Jess.

She had Athena, which suddenly faced threats against it, threats against its students, past and present.

The waiter placed steaming platters of food in front of them, but neither woman touched her plate.

Nikki’s jaw clenched. “Arachne has it in for Athena.”

Dana’s silence spoke volumes. It just didn’t give details.

Nikki nodded, satisfied. For the moment. “Hong Kong.”