Pandemic

"We've set up roadblocks over a fifty-mile radius. And we've got our helicopters looking for cars that match the description of the gray sedan." She pointed to the technicians working on Gwen's car and in the field behind. "We're scouring the scene." She paused and viewed them with a look that bordered on sympathy. "It's very early in the investigation. We should have more to go on, soon."

"Okay, who is the lead agent—" Clayton started to ask, when Roberts held up a hand to interrupt him. She reached into her jacket pocket and answered the cell phone without it audibly ringing.

Something twigged in Haldane. Watching her talk, he felt on the verge of a breakthrough, but for several agonizing seconds it refused to surface.

Then it hit him like a slap.

He wheeled and ran over to the three crime-scene technicians working on Gwen's car. Ignoring the bloodstain on the backseat, he tapped the shoulder of the technician kneeling under the steering wheel. "Yes?" the technician said tersely. "What is it?"

"A cell phone?" Haldane breathed.

"I don't have one," the guy said. "There's a pay phone over—"

"No!" Haldane cut him off. "Did you find a cell phone in this car?"

"No. No cell phone in here."

Haldane turned around to find Clayton and McLeod staring at him as if he had lost his mind. "Come with me," he said. He led them a few yards away from the car until they were out of earshot of the others. "Listen, Gwen's cell phone is not in the car."

"So?" Clayton shrugged. "You tried her on it earlier, there was no answer."

"Exactly!" Haldane said. "There was no answer, but it rang. If it was turned off, it would have gone straight to her voice mail without ringing."

After a moment, Clayton's eyes widened. "Son of a bitch! Maybe she still has it on her?"

McLeod threw up his hands. "So it rang? So it's still on her? Big bloody deal! If she can't get to it what help will it be?"

"You explain," Clayton said to Haldane. "I'm going to call Langley to trace it." He pulled his own cell phone out of his jacket and stepped away in search of a quieter spot.

Looking bewildered, McLeod turned to Haldane. "What's going on, Noah?"

"Newer cell phones are all equipped with GPS chips," Haldane said.

McLeod shook his head. "Meaning?"

"GPS chips are ultra-accurate homing devices, Haldane said, tapping the side of his temple with a finger. "So if the phone is turned on, the service provider can track down its whereabouts to within a few feet."

"Shite! That's invasion of privacy!" McLeod said, but his lips broke into a crooked smile. "Haldane, let's pray she hung on to that wee phone of hers."

Without exchanging another word they turned and watched Clayton, who stood twenty feet away with a hand covering one ear and his phone to the other. Arms at his sides, Haldane tried to pump the apprehension out through his fists, but it was of little help. Come on, come on, we need this one! he repeated to himself in what was as close as he came to a prayer.

Two long minutes later, Clayton pulled the phone from his ear and jogged back over to where they stood waiting. "Well?" Haldane asked before the CIA man even reached them.

Clayton flashed a quick thumbs-up sign. "We've tracked the phone. It's at a place called The Quiet Slumber Motel, just outside of Jessup, Maryland."

Noah felt a wave of elation. "How far?"

"About thirty miles north," Clayton said.

Haldane reached over and laid a hand on Clayton's shoulder. "Alex, are we going to tell Moira?"

"We should," he said, but his expression appeared less certain.

"What will they do?" Haldane asked.

"The FBI can be so by the numbers." Clayton shook his head. "They'll want to stake out the place. Organize a coordinated assault."

"Which could take time," Haldane pointed out.

"Hours," Clayton murmured.

Noah squeezed Clayton's shoulder before removing his hand. "Time Gwen might not have, Alex."

"I know." Clayton nodded. "But they have the resources to launch an assault. We don't have three guns between us."

Noah wasn't dissuaded. "But, Alex, we've got the advantage of surprise."

Looking uncharacteristically solemn, McLeod nodded. "The people who abducted her think nothing of taking their own lives. If they got so much as a whiff of a police ambush…"

Clayton's jaw clenched and his face hardened into a look of sheer determination. He glanced from Haldane to McLeod. "If and when we need help, we'll call in the FBI," he said definitively. "Let's go get her."

* * *

Clayton drove by the dumpy little motel two miles outside of Jessup without even slowing down. Haldane had seen a thousand roadside motels like The Quiet Slumber, but he had never bothered to study one so intently.

Built backing onto the woods of a campground, it consisted of several individual wood cabins. Haldane counted twelve of them, but it was possible there were a few hidden behind the ones facing the road.