The Soul Collectors (34 page)

The time Casey got involved
, she thought. Then, on the heels of it, came another one:
Washington, then Oregon and California. The West Coast.

She swung her head around to her left, to the area near the door, and saw two tall and wide corkboards filled with colour photographs of more recent victims – 2009 and 2010.

She moved forward, slowly, taking in the photographs of more missing children from the previous years and thinking,
It’s like the Traveler case all over again, hundreds and hundreds of photographs of missing victims spanning decades.

But Traveler had predominately hunted women. Teenagers, women in their twenties and thirties – there had even been a handful in their late forties or early fifties. The women, she had discovered later, hadn’t been carefully selected; they were victims of opportunity, snatched from the streets while walking to their home or car, and each one had been killed inside Traveler’s underground dungeon of horrors.

But
these
bulletin boards and
these
pictures contained pictures of young children – both boys and girls from different races and backgrounds. What had Sergey told her? In each case Casey had discovered the abducted child was the youngest member of the family. There was a careful selection process at work here, a singular reason that united all of the hundreds of gap-toothed smiling kids staring at her in this grisly shrine.

She counted the pictures underneath the boards labelled 2009 and 2010. Three victims – two boys and one girl – abducted from New Hampshire, Massachusetts and Vermont.

In 2007 and 2008, eleven kids had been snatched from Tennessee and North and South Carolina. Before that, from 2004 to 2006, this group had focused on Arkansas, Mississippi, Georgia and Alabama.

Something itched in the back of her mind, something about the states, how they –

They surround each other
, she thought. New Hampshire and Vermont bordered Massachusetts. In the 2007 and 2008 abductions … she could see the map of the US in her mind’s eye now, the states drilled into her memory courtesy of the nuns at St Stephens School. Tennessee … the right-hand portion of the state bordered both North
and
South Carolina. Same with the abduction cases from 2004 to 2006: Alabama was the central state, bordering Arkansas, Mississippi and Georgia. This group (another difference between the Traveler case: there was a
group
of people at work here, not a pair of serial killers),
this
group worked in a tight cluster.

She turned to Casey, saw that he wasn’t standing next to her. He was behind her, his hand gripping a doorknob.

‘Clusters,’ she called out to him. ‘They work in a tight cluster of states.’

‘I know.’

‘So the state that borders all the others must work as their base of operations.’

‘That’s the theory,’ he said, motioning for her to hurry along.

She whisked past him, through the open door, and stepped into a private conference room decorated with the same rich wood. All of the eight leather chairs arranged around the table had seatbelts.

Special Agent Sergey Martynovich sat at the far end, a phone tucked against his ear, his other hand holding the edge of a computer screen. It had been bolted down to the table so it wouldn’t fall, as had the other device sitting in the table’s centre – a wireless conference phone made of black and silver and shaped like some sort of sinister-looking spaceship.

He hung up and said, ‘Tom Geary from Langley’s calling. They’re setting up the video-conference stuff on his end right now. Jack, did Darby tell you about her conversation with a Harvard professor named – she did. Okay, good. Now let me bring you both up to speed with what we have so far.’

Sergey looked at her and said, ‘The recording of that person from the Rizzo house you had on your voicemail? After you left, they came and untied him. You can hear their footsteps and one of them says,
Vos es tutus, custodio.
’ He glanced down at his notes. ‘Its loose translation is “No harm will come to you, guard.” The blood swab from the crater has been loaded into CODIS. We’re not hoping for miracles there, just an ID. That’s all I’ve got.’

Casey said, ‘What about the GPS implants?’

‘Still silent.’

‘They were operating fine when I left Florida.’

‘I know. It’s … the technology is still somewhat new, Jack. It’s not perfect.’

The silence grew in the room. Sergey glanced at her with a grim smile.

‘Your friend Coop is on his way back home. First class,’ he said. ‘We had him booked under another name. We have an agent who will meet him at Heathrow and escort him home.’

‘Thank you.’

More silence. Sergey seemed relieved when he heard a knock on the door. It opened and a woman dressed in a professional navy-blue suit came inside and with both hands placed a bulky case on the table. Big and square and made of black plastic, it looked like something used to house a power tool.

The woman undid the hinges and flipped the top open. Lying in the foam was an aluminium gun with a fine metal tip. She looked at Darby and said, ‘Right or left arm?’

Sergey waved his hands. ‘Sorry, I forgot to tell her. Darby, we’re going to put a chip in your arm. It’s very small, sits right below the skin.’

‘I don’t see the point,’ Darby said, ‘as it doesn’t seem to be working.’

Sergey placed his hands together as if in prayer. ‘I’d feel better if you did it. It’ll only last a week and then we’ll take it out.’

Darby shrugged. She took off her leather jacket and shirt, glad that she had worn a tank top underneath. A swab of alcohol and then a slight sting and it was over. The woman placed a Band-Aid on her arm, collected her stuff and left.

Casey said, ‘This guy from Cryptography, you tell him what’s going on with me?’

‘I gave him the background stuff,’ Sergey said. ‘No specifics.’

‘When he calls, tell him I’m not in the room. That way he won’t be inclined to hold anything back. I’ll listen from the corner.’

Ten minutes passed.

Darby said, ‘I want to examine the USB drive.’

‘We have people doing that right now,’ Sergey said. ‘Computer geeks. They’re looking for what they called “digital fingerprints”. Every computer leaves them behind, they said, so we’re going to see if we can track down these people that way.’

‘I want to hold it in my hands.’

Sergey thought it over for a moment, then shrugged and picked up the phone.

‘Can I ask why?’ he said as he punched in numbers.

‘It feels … off. Wrong. The finger, the USB drive – they’re risking exposure,’ Darby said. ‘They’re too clever for that.’

The USB drive arrived ten minutes later. Darby held it, twirling it around in her fingers when the conference-room phone started ringing.

69

Sergey picked up the phone and listened, looking at the web-type cam set up on top of the computer monitor. A moment later, he glanced at Casey and nodded, and Casey got out of his chair.

Sergey hung up and pressed a button on the alien-spacecraft speakerphone. ‘Tom?’

‘I’m here,’ replied a deep, baritone voice.

Casey moved away as Sergey swivelled the monitor around to her.

On the screen she saw a freckle-faced older man with pale skin and shocking bright red hair that, for some strange reason, he decided to wear long, like he was stuck in the seventies. The boyish face didn’t match the deep voice.

Sergey pulled out the chair next to her.

‘Tom,’ he said, sitting, ‘this is Darby McCormick, the one who found the symbol tattooed to the victim’s lip. She’s got security clearance, so there’s no need to hold anything back.’

‘I don’t see Mr Casey,’ Geary said.

‘He’s not here.’

‘Okay. Probably better this way. The news isn’t good.’

Darby glanced to the corner where Casey stood and saw the defeat reach his face. Casey had been hoping the symbol would lead to something solid – the proverbial needle in the haystack.

Geary said, ‘I just got off the phone with the Harvard professor, Ross. He informed me he spoke to both of you individually and gave you the background information he has on the symbol and how it relates to this Gnosticism business.’

Darby nodded. Sergey said, ‘Correct. What did Cryptography uncover on the symbol?’

‘Nothing,’ Geary said. ‘We’ve never come across it – this is the first time anyone here has seen it. Good call bringing Ross in on this. If it wasn’t for him, we’d still be looking.’

Darby looked at the USB drive. It was encased in plastic, and, as she moved it around in her fingers underneath the light, she saw several small scratches and scuff marks.

Sergey said, ‘What about connecting this symbol to a group or church that practises Gnosticism? Any luck there?’

‘I’m afraid not. Like I said, nobody here has come across this symbol, and since it’s not listed in any of our computer systems, we don’t have any way to connect it to an individual church, group or radical cult. I’d rule out churches, though.’

‘Why?’

‘Gnosticism – the actual religion – isn’t something that’s hidden in the shadows. There are thousands of Gnostic churches in the US alone. The religious aspect is, in many ways, no different to Catholicism.’

‘Small difference,’ Sergey said. ‘The Catholic Church isn’t going around the country abducting kids.’

‘True,’ Geary said. ‘They’re too busy molesting them.’

Darby reached into her jacket pocket for her pen knife.

‘Given what you’ve told me about the case,’ Geary said, ‘I’m thinking you’re dealing with some underground movement or splinter cell.’

‘Or cult.’

‘Possibly. The tattoo on the lip gives it that whole secret society vibe.’

‘What about these Archons Ross mentioned? Has that word come across your radar screen?’

‘No. This is the first time anyone here has heard it.’

Darby worked the blade into the USB’s plastic seam to prise the case apart.

Geary said, ‘As for what Ross told me regarding Archons – and I’m reading his words here – they want the world to bend to their will, their law, their order. They achieve that result through inflicting both physical and psychological pain and suffering – in this case, on Jack Casey. You said he has a history with this group.’

‘He does. A long history. They’ve been looking for Jack for a long time.’

‘Then if you believe Ross’s historical literature on Archons and how they fit into Gnostic doctrine – that they are the servants of a divine being, hell bent on acquiring power through human pain and suffering – then this group, cult, splinter cell or whatever they call themselves or whoever they think they are, I think it’s safe to say they won’t release Casey’s wife or daughter. I think – and Ross agrees with me on this – I think they’ll deliver on their promise of mailing pieces of his family to you.’

‘And if Jack delivers on his promise and holds the press conference?’

‘That’s more your territory than mine. You’ve dealt with the group longer than I have, so you know more about them than I do. Given what you told me, they want Casey. The family is just a means to an end. They know you can’t watch or protect him for ever either. They’ll wait and plan, and when the moment presents itself, they’ll take him and he’ll most likely vanish like the others. As for the man’s wife and daughter, I wouldn’t hold out much hope of seeing them alive again.’

Darby popped the plastic case off the USB drive, then worked the pen knife’s blade to prise open the metal case hidden underneath.

‘So what you’re saying, Tom, is that you’ve got shit.’

‘That pretty much sums it up, yeah,’ Geary said. ‘Ross told you about the symbol, what he thinks it means?’

‘He said the person who wears it is a slave to an Archon.’

‘Correct.’

‘We found the same symbol tattooed on the chest of a former Boston cop about an hour ago. A cop who worked the Charlie Rizzo investigation.’

Darby put the pen knife on the table and opened the metal case with her fingers, thinking about John Smith leaning on the balcony railing of his home, proud and smiling at what he had achieved, his wife taking in rescue dogs.

‘What did he say?’ Geary asked.

‘He’s dead.’

‘Finding one or more of the people connected to this group is going to be your best bet, I think, of finding where Casey’s wife and kid are being stashed.’

‘Provided they’ll talk.’

‘I don’t have anything that can help you, Sergey. I’m sorry. You know what you need.’

‘Evidence.’

‘That’s right. Something that will lead you to them. Any leads there?’

‘Maybe. There’s someone who –’

Darby seized Sergey’s arm and said, ‘That lead turned out to be a dead end.’

Sergey whipped his attention to her. Darby made a cutting motion near her throat with her hands, signalling for him to stop talking. Then she pointed to the dismantled parts of the USB drive scattered on the table.

Darby looked at the monitor screen and said, ‘We don’t have anything to go on, Mr Geary. Nothing at all. Thank you for your time.’

She got out of her seat and cut the signal before Geary could do any more damage.

70

Sergey gripped the edge of the table, staring at a small microphone attached to a battery that had been hidden inside the USB. The listening device had been glued down to keep it from moving, the mike affixed underneath the USB’s tiny heat vent so it could eavesdrop on conversations like the one they’d just had.

Casey had seen it too. He had moved out from the corner and now stood behind Sergey, leaning over his shoulder. Both faces were pale, slick with perspiration.

‘We’re screwed,’ Darby said.

Both men looked up at her.

‘No evidence, no leads,’ she said, the frustration clear in her voice. ‘Every avenue we’ve explored leads to another dead end.’

Casey nodded and played along: ‘We still have the USB drive. The computer guys –’

‘It’s a wipe,’ Darby said. ‘No digital fingerprints. There’s nothing on the video that can help us. We won’t find them that way.’

‘What about the safe house? They had to have left something behind.’