“I work with Lieutenant Bass in the Threat Management Unit,” the man said. Tall, he had a solid-looking body, his chest, shoulders, and upper arms developed like a weight lifter’s. His brown hair was trimmed to almost military shortness. His matching brown eyes had a no-nonsense steadiness. “Sergeant Nolan.”
Coltrane shook hands with him – not surprisingly, Nolan’s grip had force – then introduced Jennifer.
“Greg couldn’t get here?” Coltrane asked.
“It’s complicated. He didn’t think it would be safe.”
Jennifer visibly tensed.
“I’ve been watching you to see if anybody else is watching you,” Nolan said.
“And?” Apprehensive, Coltrane glanced around. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but the beach seemed deserted.
For the first time, Nolan’s gaze lost its steadiness. “Why don’t we get out of the open? We need a place to talk.”
6
THE RESTAURANT HAD A CHEERY CHRISTMAS ATMOSPHERE – a tinsel-covered tree in a corner, strings of winking lights on the walls, tiny wreaths around candles on the tables, all of which were lost on Coltrane as he and Jennifer sat across from Nolan. Again, Coltrane endured an intense overlapping of time, as though he still sat across from Greg the previous evening.
“Okay, the good news first,” Nolan said. “Lieutenant Bass contacted the FBI, who in turn got in touch with the UN war-crimes tribunal. Interpol got involved. They’re trying to find how Ilkovic left Europe. The FBI’s doing the same on this end – to learn how he entered the country. They’re checking the passenger manifests on all flights that came into this country from Europe during a one-week time frame: from when you left Bosnia to when you started getting the messages on your answering machine. The UN tribunal has asked various European nations to compare the names on those airline manifests to lists of sanctioned passport holders. The FBI’s doing the same with passports issued by the United States. If we can determine the alias Ilkovic is using, that’ll take us a long way toward tracking him down.”
“Assuming he keeps the name he traveled under,” Coltrane said.
“Assuming.” Nolan looked uncomfortable. “Meanwhile, an LAPD bomb squad went through your town house. Behind your furnace, they found enough plastic explosive to level half the block.”
“That’s the good news?” Jennifer murmured.
“After the bomb was disabled, a team of LAPD electronic-surveillance specialists went through your home. Ilkovic had microphones in every room. I hope you didn’t discuss any secrets there.”
Coltrane felt as if a chunk of glass was wedged in his throat.
“They also found microphones in your friend’s place next door,” Nolan said, “and at your place, Ms. Lane.”
“Jesus,” she said.
“I don’t know what you mean by good news,” Coltrane said. “I haven’t heard any so far.”
“It’s very good. Where did Ilkovic get the plastic explosive? The microphones – where did they come from? Every alphabet-soup agency you can think of is following those leads. A lot of muscle is being flexed to give you help.”
“Then if everything’s so positive, why do you look like you need root canal?”
Nolan glanced down at his hands, then fixed his gaze on Coltrane, reluctantly continuing. “The reason Lieutenant Bass didn’t meet you as planned is that you were followed when you went to talk to him yesterday.”
“What?”
“After you and he concluded your conversation and separated, the person who followed you – we have to assume it was Ilkovic – shifted his attention to Lieutenant Bass.”
“Are you telling me something happened to Greg?”
“No. Lieutenant Bass-”
“Stop calling him that. Please. He’s my friend. Call him-”
“Greg hasn’t been harmed. Nor has his family.”
Coltrane breathed out.
“But last night, his home was broken into.”
“What?”
“That doesn’t mean it was Ilkovic.” Jennifer tried to sound hopeful. “It might have been a crackhead breaking in, looking for something to steal to sell for drugs.”
“Unfortunately, we know for certain it was Ilkovic,” Nolan said. “The message left absolutely no doubt.”
“Message?” Coltrane felt pressure behind his ears.
Nolan hesitated. “Before I explain, I want you to know how sorry I am about all this. So is Lieutenant Bass. Greg. He wants me to tell you he’d have been here to talk to you himself, but that would have compromised your safety. Now that you’ve disappeared, there’s too great a risk that Ilkovic might be following Greg in the hopes that Greg will lead him to you.”
“Sergeant Nolan, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing your damnedest not to.”
Coltrane had seldom seen anyone appear more uneasy. The sergeant glanced down again, seemed to muster his resolve, looked up, sighed, and pulled out a Walkman from his windbreaker pocket. “Ilkovic left an audiotape on the coffee table in Greg’s living room.”
Coltrane reached.
“But I’m not sure you want to listen to the copy we made,” Nolan said.
“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I want to?”
“Sometime after midnight last night, Ilkovic went to the hospital where your friend worked.”
“Oh my God,” Jennifer whispered.
“The nurses and physicians your friend worked with in the emergency ward say he went to the cafeteria to get something to eat around one A.M. He never came back.”
Coltrane felt so great a tightness in his chest that he feared he might be having a heart attack.
“The break-in at Greg’s house occurred around four A.M.,” Nolan said. “We know that because when he left, he threw a lamp through a window so Greg would be startled awake. A little after four – that’s when Greg found the tape.”
“From one until four.” Jennifer’s voice was taut.
Nolan seemed to be waiting for them to make conclusions.
“That’s how much time” – Jennifer shook her head – “Ilkovic had with…”
“It’s Daniel on the tape?” Coltrane’s stomach cramped.
“I deeply regret having to tell you. The bomb squad found his body in his living room when they went in to search his town house this morning.”
Coltrane’s mind swirled. I’m going to pass out, he thought.
Jennifer’s hand found his and squeezed. He held her, feeling her tears mixing with his own.
After what seemed forever, he eased away, hardly aware that customers in the restaurant were staring at him – because the only thing that occupied his attention was the Walkman.
He reached for it.
“I don’t recommend that,” Nolan said. “Greg felt you had a right to hear it if you were determined to. But I really don’t-”
“I have to know.”
The Walkman had a set of small earphones. Hands shaking, Coltrane put them on. He felt disturbingly remote from his body, as if he was seeing everything through the reverse end of a telescope. With a finger that didn’t seem to belong to him, he pressed the Walkman’s play button.
A scream made him flinch. It was the most pain-ridden sound he had ever heard. Daniel.
It stopped.
“Say a few words to your friend,” a guttural voice with a Slavic accent ordered, sounding amused.
Daniel’s scream reached a new pitch of agony. It dwindled and became strident breathing.
“Speak to him!”
“Mitch…” Daniel sounded pathetically weak. “I didn’t tell him a thing.”
“You didn’t betray him because you don’t know anything!” the guttural voice said. “But you would have!”
Daniel shrieked again, on and on, communicating agony beyond endurance.