"Rig a plane with an infra-red camera," Cavanaugh said. "Tonight, have the pilot fly over the park while someone takes photographs. Maybe you'll get Carl's heat signature on the pictures. You might find out where he's hiding."
"Please, remember my client's cooperation when his trial starts," William said.
Chapter 25.
The teams consumed hundreds of pizzas and sodas in the school's cafeteria. Afterward, they sprawled in the corridors and the gymnasium. Knowing that they'd soon be on the move, they dozed as best they could. At 1:30, they were wakened. They used the toilets whether they felt the urge or not. At two, they left the building. In the dark, a cold breeze made them zip their coats shut and shift from one foot to the other. As they assembled in their assigned groups, they heard a plane fly over.
Obeying the command not to speak, they hiked to the park. By three, they reached their appointed areas, spread out in lines that flanked the park, and waited. Lights came on in houses behind them. Troubled questions prompted orders to evacuate, automobiles soon driving away. Then the night became quiet.
Just before five, it started to drizzle.
Chapter 26.
"Rain!" Rutherford's voice was loud inside the van. "The forecast predicted it wouldn't start until late afternoon!"
"Inexact science," Cavanaugh said.
"By then, we'd have caught Duran! We'd have been out of here!"
The downpour pelted the van's window. At 6:30, what should have been a brilliant dawn was a dismal gray.
"Where are we going to find rain gear at this hour!" Rutherford complained. "The men are soaked! They'll get hypothermia!"
A car sped toward the van and skidded to a stop on the slick pavement.
"Finally," Rutherford said.
A man hurried from the car. Flecked with moisture, he scrambled inside the van and handed a manila envelope to Rutherford. "Here are your photos."
Impatient, Rutherford sorted through them. Frowning, he handed them to Cavanaugh. "See anything?"
"A few hot spots," Cavanaugh said. "This one's so small it's probably a squirrel. This other one looks like a dog."
"But no heat signature that looks like it came from a human being?"
Cavanaugh studied the photos a final time. "No."
"Then he lied to you, or you misunderstood the place he meant. He's not in there."
"Wrong," Cavanaugh said. "This is definitely the place, and this is part of his game."
"But a human being gives off heat. The infra-red image would show it if he's in the park."
"Unless he shielded himself so a camera wouldn't detect the heat."
"Buried himself?"
"It's one possibility."
"In that case, we don't have to worry because he's drowned by now!"
"He might not even be wet. After all, he was trained to plan for the worst. But even if he is soaked, he doesn't care. These conditions are luxurious compared to some of what we went through in Delta Force."
"You know," Rutherford said, "I'm getting tired of hearing about the good old days in Delta."
"You did say you wanted my opinion."
"And what's your opinion of what we ought to do now?"
"Get started."
Chapter 27.
". . . your chance to end this peacefully and give yourself up! " Rutherford's amplified words drifted across the park. He used a public-address system, the speakers of which were mounted to the top of the van.
He waited. Two minutes became five. He turned from the rain on the windshield. "Counselor, I asked him three times. I put a lot of sincerity into it. Do you think that's enough fair warning?" Without waiting for an answer, he raised his microphone and said, " Go! "
On the right, the northern flank moved into the park while those on the south, west, and east formed barricades.
Cavanaugh opened the van's side door.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting some exercise."
The van was on Teg Drive, a street that bordered the eastern side of the park. Feeling the cold rain pelt his head, Cavanaugh passed through the line of men on that side and followed the northern flank as it continued into the park.
Initially, there weren't any obstacles, just the creek flowing through a grassy field. Then the searchers reached trees along the creek and slowed their advance. Dead wet leaves lay along the creek, their autumn colors now dull.
Sensing someone next to him, Cavanaugh turned and saw Jamie.
He smiled.
"You'll get soaked," she said.
"So will you," he replied.
"Yeah, but walking in the rain is romantic," she told him.
While some searchers examined the area among the trees, others came to a playground: swings, slides, climbing equipment. They passed metal picnic tables. They reached a shelter and checked its washrooms as well as it rafters. They looked under a bridge that crossed the creek. They attempted to pry up a storm-drain lid, but it was too heavy. They peered into various garbage cans secured in wooden frames. More trees. Another bridge. Another. They arrived at the new playground that a sign said was called Kiwanis Park. Climbing equipment was nestled in a grotto surrounded by rock walls and fir trees. An open shelter had picnic tables under it. Its rafters were exposed, no place to hide.
That was it. They'd come to the southern flank of men, houses behind them. The end of the park.
Suddenly, Rutherford crossed the soaked grass toward Cavanaugh and Jamie.
"Nothing!" he said, flicking rain from his face. "Mosely was right! Duran's playing games with us! He isn't here!"
"That was just a first pass." Cavanaugh's wet clothes stuck to him. "They checked the obvious things. Now they should go through the park again, noticing details."