"Worst-case scenario," Howard said, "we search for a set time, then we call in the authorities. What's the downside?"
Warburton shrugged. He wasn't going to mention that Howard would look like a fool; that was a given, the whole reason for first trying to find the damned beast themselves. Warburton would have sent up all the flares ten seconds after the first phone call, but he wasn't Howard.
"Not much. You'll catch some flack for not reporting it at once, but the search will be nationwide, and they'll be found."
"Okay. Next-worst scenario. We find them, but it's real public and everybody finds out Fuzzy was stolen. I mean, much as I'd like to, we can't just shoot 'em even if we find them isolated out in the country."
"Howard," Andrea said, "you wouldn't shoot them in any case."
"You're right. But we can hold them at gunpoint, make a citizen's arrest, right? They have stolen a pretty valuable property. They have broken the law."
"As you say, men licensed to carry guns can hold them for you," Warburton said. "They might get charged with something later, since there is no bounty or warrant out on them; we can handle that. But this may not be possible without people finding out about it. In fact, most of the scenarios I can imagine, it's going to get out that Fuzzy was stolen. It may already have. Working with this many people, there will be leaks."
"Understood."
"So... best-case scenario, we find him in a truck on the road somewhere, stop them, and drive quietly back to Fuzzyland. No publicity, no arrests. Chances?"
"Slim."
Howard sighed. "Okay. I'd settle for the second possibility. But until then we look for him, hard, and we work hard to find a way to end this quietly."
"If they've gone to ground in the country, we haven't got a prayer."
"I know that. Every instinct tells me they will stay on the move. They will know they are more conspicuous on lonely country roads, which means they'll stay on the major roads, probably on the freeways. I-84 East and I-5 South get into empty country real fast, so I think they'll head north toward Seattle. Easier to lose yourself in a big city, pull into an RV park or something like that if they need to stop. So our forces on the ground will concentrate on the Seattle metro area. Some of the helicopters will follow every road where they could be, with full electronic enhancement. But I have a feeling we'll catch them with the satellites, tonight."
"Got it. Now, I suggest we set a time frame before we call in the cops. Twenty-four hours."
"From now, or from when he was stolen?"
"The latter."
"Forty-eight hours."
"Split the difference. Noon tomorrow."
"That's not a split... but okay."
Andrea was once more conflicted. Part of her was fascinated by the process of the search. She'd learned a lot already. On the other hand, watching two boys playing soldier or spy or something with such enthusiasm was rather boring. It wasn't her sort of picture at all. She tended to tune out, but found herself coming back to the problem and the discussion, wondering if she could contribute.
"Before we set it all in motion, we need to prepare rules of engagement," Warburton said.
"There should be an armed man with every team. They may have guns."
"Don't be ridiculous, dear. Susan wouldn't use a gun." "Better safe than sorry," Howard insisted. "But I don't want any shooting unless someone is shot at first. No shooting at all if it could endanger Fuzzy."
"Don't worry, Andrea. I don't want to hurt them. Not that way, anyway."
Andrea knew that was the best she could get. She could talk him out of taking his revenge later.
HELICOPTERS fanned out along all the roads leading away from Fuzzyland. With each minute the number of those possible roads and the mileage involved expanded.
A visual inspection was the first step for vehicles on the road. They had a plate number, but most of Howard's advisors expected that to have been changed by now. They ignored the tow vehicle; that could have been changed, too. They were looking, first, for a beige forty-foot 2008 Wilderness fifth wheel with a broad red curving swoosh painted on the side, a fashionable design style for that vintage RV. It had been 3-D computer-modeled from the security videos of its comings and goings at Fuzzyland. There was a three-foot-long dimple on the left side from where Susan had turned too sharply coming home one night and scraped it against a tree. That dimple was still there on the video from just hours ago.
With this information a helicopter could hover over the parking lot of a big shopping center and send pictures back to computers that could pick such a trailer out of thousands of vehicles in seconds. Then the chopper could move in and examine it with infrared.
There were a million holes in the plan, and Howard and Warburton knew it. There were covered parking garages, but very few high enough to admit an RV. As well as switching tow vehicles, they might have switched trailers. A big horse trailer would do fine, so they were being examined, too, and there were thousands of horse trailers out there on the country roads. But a horse in a trailer gave off a very different infrared signature from a mammoth, and they could be quickly eliminated.
Both Susan's and Matt's bank records had been scrutinized and showed that Susan had bought only one RV in her lifetime, and Matt had bought none. Howard didn't know if they had planned this together, but he was certain they had had outside help. If she was smart, she would have kept her outside contact to a minimum. Howard was willing to bet only three or four others beyond Matt and Susan knew anything about this. They would be among the small, clandestine group of animal rights extremists, who as a rule didn't have a lot of money. Of course, one financial angel could have donated another RV for the cause, so if it came to it every RV, horse trailer, and truck for a thousand miles would be examined, but by then it would be in the hands of the police. Howard was going with his instincts, with the percentages, and Susan hadn't had a lot of time to set this all up. She only had Mondays to accomplish the physical parts of the plan, and probably most of the rest, too, since she couldn't risk using her home or office phones or computers at all.
Still, as the hours rolled by he knew his prospects were getting grim. It was just so damn much territory, and if he was guessing wrong about any of the variables he was screwed. All she had to do to beat him was to sit tight in a well-covered place... and wait to be picked up by the police. He was feeling more depressed than at any time he could remember as the reports kept coming in. Twenty-three similar trailers had been located so far and examined more closely, and they'd come up empty. He had to wait for night.
"So, have you figured out where she's going yet?" she asked.
"Hell, no. It's a big country." Howard took a bite of the fancy sandwich and wished he could
have ordered out for a Big Mac. "Damn right it is, and that means you're just wasting a lot of money and letting them get farther
away, which the police won't appreciate when you are finally forced to call them in."
"Is that what you're saying? Call them in now?"
"No, my dear. I'm saying, let's narrow the search."
"How do you propose to do that?"
"By thinking like Susan. Why did she steal Fuzzy?"
Howard snorted. "Because she objects to him performing like—what was it she said last time
we had it out over this?—'a trained seal.' As if she hasn't spent all her life making wild animals perform—"
"Never mind that. She's obviously had a change of heart."