When St. Vincent saw them, he said, “We caught a break. We got the wounded guy. Shot in the back and the buttocks, dropped at the emergency room, will not say a word to anyone. We’re getting some photos we can show to Juarez.”
“Sounds right,” Sherwood said. “Where is he?”
“Kansas City,” St. Vincent said. “Just like the nurse told us. Uh, the doctor.”
10
They talked to St. Vincent about the possibility of a decoy operation. He said he’d think about it. Dismissed, Lucas and Sherwood took the elevator down to the bottom floor. Outside, Sherwood said, “I noticed a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the decoy proposal. He won’t do it.”
“Aw, it’s not that great an idea,” Lucas said.
“It’s the only one we’ve got. No downside to trying it,” Sherwood said.
“Unless the CIA decides to waterboard the Kansas City guy.”
“We don’t do that anymore,” Sherwood said. “Doesn’t work all that well, for one thing.”
Lucas’s phone rang, St. Vincent calling. Lucas looked up at the building, shrugged, and answered.
“Another possible break, but it’s thin,” St. Vincent said. “One of our phone people talked to a Hertz counter guy at the airport. Hehad a woman in early this morning, blond, well-dressed, said she was arriving from a Chicago flight. There was a Chicago flight about the right time, we checked that. She had no reservation for a car, but he got one for her. Illinois ID, Visa card, both good. Very fashionable, he said, long fashion coat. Said she was kinda hot. Had an accent, but he thought it might be German. We’ve got a lot of people around Orono, if you want to take a look at this. Like I said, it’s thin…”
“I can run down there,” Lucas said. “Do they have video?”
“Don’t know.”
“All right. I’ll get back to you.”
Lucas told Sherwood what had happened, and Sherwood said he’d follow along. He did that, threading south across town behind Lucas, and they got adjacent parking spots in one of the labyrinthine parking garages at Minneapolis–St. Paul International.
“Wonder why St. Vincent gave this up?” Sherwood asked, as they headed for the car rental area. “I got the impression this morning that you’re not personally close.”
“We are not. I’ve annoyed him in the past.”
“I can see that might happen,” Sherwood said.
• • •
The counter manwas named George Loftus. He was waiting with his manager, and the manager had queued up a video of the desk during the rental process. The woman was mid-height, slender, but gave off an athletic vibration. Her hair was tucked under a floppy beige beret that fell to her neckline in back. Loftus said he’d gotten the impression of a pretty blond, and when they looked at the video, they could barely make out her eyebrows.
“That’s our girl,” Sherwood said, his nose two inches from the video screen. “Judging from the motel video. Body shape, size…”
“I think so,” Lucas said. He asked the manager, “Do you know where the car’s at?”
“Parked over by the Mall of America. I can tell you where it’s been and how fast it was driven, but I can’t tell youwhenit was anywhere. You know, the exact time. Just where it is now.”
“In one of the parking garages?”
“No. It’s a little north of the mall itself, but it’s definitely south of 494.”
He pulled up a map connected to the car’s tracker. They could follow the track, which was a bit crude, from the airport rental lot to the Lake Minnetonka area, though it never quite got to the town of Orono, then back almost along the same route to the mall. For some reason, she’d done a big U-turn.
“Looks like she was thinking of bringing it back here, but then decided not to,” Lucas said.
“Maybe she was planning to catch a plane out of here and suspected the car could be tracked. She parked close enough to walk here, if she wanted to,” Sherwood said.
“I don’t know how you could walk into the airport. Maybe you can,” Lucas said.
They both looked at the Hertz employees, who shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to do it,” the manager said. “It’s a long walk—three, four miles if it’s an inch.”
