member had acquired the formerly state-owned sugar mill monopoly a few years earlier, during a privatizing period forced by World Bank debt restructuring. This gave Stellard what he needed—contacts and influence in Fiji. It was rough and dirty, but they now had local police on the Foundation “payroll,” ready to do his bidding.
Stellard conveyed the plan to Taz, and was optimistic that not only would they be first on the scene, but they might even be able to track Gaines and Asher. When they hit the hospital, local police would also converge on the girl’s school, where they expected to learn the address where the fugitives had been residing. Police had orders to empty the place and hold the evidence for Taz.
Stellard stayed connected as Taz contacted the locals and assumed command. After some back and forth, he was able to direct things from the plane. His Eysen-INU could accommodate as many calls as needed, and would mute automatically as he alternated between conversations.
The officers assigned to the school reported that the little girl’s name was Cira Bradley, and that they had an address. At the hospital the news wasn’t so good. The girl had been discharged, but they were interviewing her doctor.
“Search the building,” Taz ordered. “Talk to anyone who might have had contact with her parents. How long ago was she released?”
“Sir, we’re working on it,” an officer shot back in accented English. “Trying to unseal medical records isn’t standard procedure here. Especially in a pediatric situation.”
Taz thought of the stakes, knowing that for the forces that were heading to Fiji, unsealing medical records would be like opening a candy wrapper. Fiji was about to be invaded. If Gaines wasn’t found, the sovereign nation would essentially be occupied. But the country consisted of more than three hundred islands. Gaines could be anywhere.
“Damn it, where did they go!?” he yelled in the open line.
“Easy, Taz,” Stellard said as the other lines muted. “These locals are our only chance to beat the others.”
“They’re gone! No one will find anything,” Taz said. “Don’t you see? If they didn’t know we were coming, they would never have risked moving a six-year-old girl fresh out of eye surgery!”
“Yes. Of course Booker Lipton would have had a well practiced evacuation plan in place, but as wealthy and powerful as he is, the man is still constrained by the laws of time and physics. They could only be so far. They haven’t had much time since the surgery. Gaines could be two blocks away holed up in some cheap motel right now.”
“Then we need access to the current satellite feeds. We’ve got to trace them out of here before the NSA does.”
“Wattington is working on that.”
“I’m sure he is, but we need it now .”
“Sir, we’re in the residence,” an officer said in a thick accent from one of the other lines.
“Is it occupied?” Taz asked, already knowing the answer.
“Not presently,” the officer responded. “Small place. We haven’t sorted through every shadow, but there don’t appear to be many hiding places.”
“Can you get me visuals?”
“One of the men is working on it, but we don’t have the full crew yet. We rushed here in the chopper, you know.”
Taz did know. They were busy trying to get every chopper they could find into the air to search for these ghosts. “How do they do it?” he asked Stellard. “You’ve read the files. From the time they took the artifact from that cliff in Virginia, half the world was after them, and yet there were almost no confirmed sightings. And Dixon Barbeau, the one man who actually did capture Gaines, we now know was in on their escape.”
“They got lucky,” Stellard said.
“No one is that lucky . . . no one.”
“We’ve got some people going to have a chat with Barbeau now,” Stellard replied. “He’s no longer with the Bureau, but still seems to be involved in investigation work.
Stellard conveyed the plan to Taz, and was optimistic that not only would they be first on the scene, but they might even be able to track Gaines and Asher. When they hit the hospital, local police would also converge on the girl’s school, where they expected to learn the address where the fugitives had been residing. Police had orders to empty the place and hold the evidence for Taz.
Stellard stayed connected as Taz contacted the locals and assumed command. After some back and forth, he was able to direct things from the plane. His Eysen-INU could accommodate as many calls as needed, and would mute automatically as he alternated between conversations.
The officers assigned to the school reported that the little girl’s name was Cira Bradley, and that they had an address. At the hospital the news wasn’t so good. The girl had been discharged, but they were interviewing her doctor.
“Search the building,” Taz ordered. “Talk to anyone who might have had contact with her parents. How long ago was she released?”
“Sir, we’re working on it,” an officer shot back in accented English. “Trying to unseal medical records isn’t standard procedure here. Especially in a pediatric situation.”
Taz thought of the stakes, knowing that for the forces that were heading to Fiji, unsealing medical records would be like opening a candy wrapper. Fiji was about to be invaded. If Gaines wasn’t found, the sovereign nation would essentially be occupied. But the country consisted of more than three hundred islands. Gaines could be anywhere.
“Damn it, where did they go!?” he yelled in the open line.
“Easy, Taz,” Stellard said as the other lines muted. “These locals are our only chance to beat the others.”
“They’re gone! No one will find anything,” Taz said. “Don’t you see? If they didn’t know we were coming, they would never have risked moving a six-year-old girl fresh out of eye surgery!”
“Yes. Of course Booker Lipton would have had a well practiced evacuation plan in place, but as wealthy and powerful as he is, the man is still constrained by the laws of time and physics. They could only be so far. They haven’t had much time since the surgery. Gaines could be two blocks away holed up in some cheap motel right now.”
“Then we need access to the current satellite feeds. We’ve got to trace them out of here before the NSA does.”
“Wattington is working on that.”
“I’m sure he is, but we need it now .”
“Sir, we’re in the residence,” an officer said in a thick accent from one of the other lines.
“Is it occupied?” Taz asked, already knowing the answer.
“Not presently,” the officer responded. “Small place. We haven’t sorted through every shadow, but there don’t appear to be many hiding places.”
“Can you get me visuals?”
“One of the men is working on it, but we don’t have the full crew yet. We rushed here in the chopper, you know.”
Taz did know. They were busy trying to get every chopper they could find into the air to search for these ghosts. “How do they do it?” he asked Stellard. “You’ve read the files. From the time they took the artifact from that cliff in Virginia, half the world was after them, and yet there were almost no confirmed sightings. And Dixon Barbeau, the one man who actually did capture Gaines, we now know was in on their escape.”
“They got lucky,” Stellard said.
“No one is that lucky . . . no one.”
“We’ve got some people going to have a chat with Barbeau now,” Stellard replied. “He’s no longer with the Bureau, but still seems to be involved in investigation work.
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