I'm on speaker in my office. My father is in the chair by the window.
"He wants me back in," Cath says. Her voice is thin but steady. "Not the casino. Something else. He says there's a property that needs staff. Cleaning, cooking, maintenance. He says the work is easy and the pay is good and all I have to do is keep my mouth shut."
"What property?"
"He didn't give an address. He said someone would pick me up at the same diner on Friday and drive me there. Blindfolded."
"Did he say anything about who's there?"
"He said I'd be looking after someone. A guest. He said the guest was pregnant and needed proper care."
The room goes very quiet. My father's hand, resting on his knee, closes into a fist.
"Friday," I say. "You're going."
"I know."
"Cath. When you're there, I need you to get a message to Theo. Nothing obvious. Just let him know we're coming."
"What if he doesn't trust me? He gave up my name. He might think I blame him."
"He'll know. You'll know how to tell him."
The line is quiet for a moment. Then: "I'll be there."
My father and I sit in the office and look at each other.
"If she's going there on Friday, we can follow the route. Even blindfolded, we can track her phone."
"Luca will check for devices."
"Then we use something he won't think to check. We’ll sew a GPS chip into her clothing."
On Friday, Cath is picked up at the diner at noon. She's put in the back of a car, different from the gray sedan. The blindfold goes on. The car drives. Viktor monitors Cath's phone signal until it drops off. They took the phone at some point during the ride, as expected. But the chip sewn into her bra is still transmitting.
It moves north-west on Route 9, then east onto a county road, then north again on a series of smaller roads. The signal settles at 4:17pm at a fixed point seven miles east of the Hudson, in a stretch of farmland bisected by the old commuter rail line.
Viktor overlays the coordinates on a satellite image. A cluster of farm buildings. A barn, a main house, a smaller outbuilding. A gravel track leading to a county road. Rail tracks running through a field two hundred yards to the east.
"That's it," Viktor says.
"How many people?"
"Satellite shows three vehicles at the property. Two in regular use, one that hasn't moved. Figure four to six people minimum. Could be more."
"Defences?"
"Rural property, open ground. No fencing beyond standard agricultural. If they've got lookouts, they'll be in the house or the barn. The outbuilding is separate, maybe thirty yards from the main structure."
The outbuilding is small and concrete. Thirty yards from the house. That's where he is.
"When?" my father says.
“Tomorrow.” That’s the minimum amount of time that I need to get a reliable squad together. I’m not waiting any longer than that.
21. Theo
Cath Beresford walks into my cell carrying a bag of groceries and a bottle of prenatal vitamins.
