Pedestrians strolled the sidewalks. A panhandler in tattered clothes worked the corner. Tourists sat in a café across from the lighthouse, munching on late-night snacks, sipping adult beverages.
I paid particular attention to the panhandler. I didn't see an earpiece in his ear. Maybe he was the genuine article. Posing as a homeless person was the perfect cover for this type of operation.
Mickey climbed back into the van. Just as he buckled his safety belt, the burner rang. He looked at me for a moment, then answered it and put it on speakerphone. "Hello?”
"Who's with you?”
"A friend.”
"I said to come alone.”
"I'm too shaken up to drive. I need someone for moral support. If you don't like it, I’ll take the money and go home.”
"Do that, and you'll never see your daughter again.”
"I could say the same about the money."
The kidnapper was silent for a long moment.
52
"Head north on Mariner’s Way.”
"Where are we going?" Mickey asked.
"It defeats the purpose if I tell you."
I pulled away from the curb and turned onto Mariner’s Way from Lighthouse Drive. We cruised with the traffic, and I kept my eye on the rearview. I saw Jack's Porsche in the distance, but I didn't pick up another tail, as far as I could tell.
We drove a few blocks, then the kidnapper said to take a right on Compass Street.
I did, and kept my head on a swivel.
We drove a few more blocks, and the kidnapper told me to take another right, then another right. He had us going around in circles. He wanted to see if anybody was following us.
Jack was smart enough to pick up on what was going on. Flynn piloted the drone overhead, and he was able to keep track of us.
Jack's voice crackled through my earbud. "Eagle One has eyes on you.”
I took the phone from Mickey and muted it. Then said to Jack, "Copy that. This guy’s gonna bounce us around before he brings us in.”
"Not a problem.”
By that time, we were back on Mariner’s Way. We drove about half a mile, then the kidnapper instructed us to turn right on Sailfish Street. We stayed on that for a while, and I started to get an idea of where we were going. He continued giving directions and had us loop back around one more time.
Eventually, he guided us into the warehouse district. We drove through the desolate streets. At this time of night, anyone in the area was up to no good—unless they were at the practice studio, rocking out.
The kidnapper navigated us down Market Street, then instructed us to take a left on Mill Street.
As soon as we did, a car that was parked at the curb flicked on its lights and pulled out behind us. They hugged our bumper, the headlights filling up the rearview and the side mirrors.
"Don't mind the people behind you," the kidnapper said. “They’re with me.”
"Good to know," I said.
“Up on your right, just past Clinton Avenue, is the old paper mill. Pull into the parking lot there and step out of the van. Keep your hands in the air. Don't make any sudden moves. And for Kendra’s sake, I hope you've come alone.”
"Copy that," I said. I muted the phone, then said to Jack, "Overwatch, does Eagle Eye still have a visual?”
