Wen Spencer Ukiah 4 Dog Warrior

Archiwum

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arranged to move a body if the police hadn't found one in the car.
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"They were covered with blood," Ru said. "That's what tipped off the people at
the rest stop.
That and the barely concealed weapons."
"If we can find the boat," Atticus said, "we might be able to find the
cultist. It's going to be easier to find than a car there's only a limited
number of places they can dock it."
"When we thought that the cultists were going to poison the Pittsburgh water
supply, we searched for any connections they had to boats," Zheng said.
"Parity's family had a speedboat, but the marina where they docked it said
that the family took it out of storage last summer and never returned it."
"And this helps us how?" Sumpter asked.
"Parity attended Harvard," Zheng said. "He might have brought the boat up with
him."
"That's just across the river," Atticus said. "He would probably dock it
someplace close by."
"That's what I'm thinking." Zheng sorted through her briefcase and pulled out
a laser-printed photo of a sleek boat. "This is a picture of the model, a
thirty-four-foot Sea Ray Sport Cruiser. It's named the
Nautilus.
"
"Follow the money." Kyle turned his laptop so Zheng could view the screen. He
had run a standard credit report on Parity. "The Charles River Yacht Club did
a credit check on him on July seventh, 2003, and currently he's fifty-two days
late on August 2004's fee."
Taking out his borrowed cell phone, Atticus dialed the marina. A machine
answered immediately.
"You have reached the Charles River Yacht Club," a cheerful female voice said.
"We're either out on the docks or on another line. Please leave a message and
we will get back to you." He hung up without leaving a message.
"It's just across the river. Ru and I can duck over and look to see if the
boat is there. See if anyone knows anything."
"I think you're right in that they were heading for a boat, but you've got the
wrong reason,"
Sumpter said. "There's tons of places they could have ditched the car and
changed clothes without being
noticed; you've got a list of sites right here that they know well. No, they
need the boat to get someplace.
An island."
Atticus hated when Sumpter finally got his head out of his asshole and used
his brain; it made him so unpredictable. Would Sumpter be a raving idiot, or
Sherlock Holmes's lost grandson? The most annoying thing was that Sumpter was
completely right.
"With the number of ports they have to choose from, the question becomes why
Salem?"
Sumpter continued his brilliance. "Either it's the port nearest to the island
or one that they know well."
"They had to know it fairly well to know you can easily reach the harbor from
the parking lot,"
Zheng pointed out.
"How are they buying gasoline for cars? Cash or charge?" Sumpter asked.
"Charge." Zheng expanded the answer with, "They practiced identity theft on a
large scale. After forging a change of address, they would apply for new
credit cards to be delivered to a rented post office box. They've had at least
twenty or thirty identities they can tap."
"Can you give a list of known credit card numbers to Johnston to
cross-reference to marine fuel stations?" Sumpter asked. "If they're making
frequent runs from the mainland to an island, it's going to show up in fuel
purchases."
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"I've got those here." Zheng took out her PDA and indicated she could transfer
them to Kyle's laptop. "I'm meeting with the NSA to see what they have on the
cult's wiretapping activities."
"Takahashi, it would be more efficient if you visit Boston DEA and ask them
about local islands.
Update them on the case and keep them in the loop."
Ru glanced to Atticus, who nodded.
"I need to go," Zheng announced as Kyle's laptop confirmed the receipt of her
files. Her plate was clean. She took the last sip of her coffee to empty her
cup.
Sumpter looked longingly at his nearly untouched steak and sighed. "I'll come
with you."
CHAPTER TEN
Charles River Yacht Club, Cambridge, Massachusetts
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
The Charles River Yacht Club, as its name suggested, was on the Charles River
alongside
Memorial Drive in Cambridge. It required Atticus to hunt for a parking space
and then walk across four lanes of fast-moving traffic. None of the fifty or
so boats tied up seemed to be the
Nautilus, so he detoured into the marina's office.
A young suntanned woman sat behind the counter, taking a detailed message,
with a series of
"uh-huhs" as she scribbled on a message pad. He judged her to be nineteen or
twenty. She had her blond hair braided into two short pigtails, and she
grimaced with her wide, mobile mouth as the caller continued to talk. She wore
deceptively simple clothes whose quality material meant money, and a large
diamond engagement ring.
She rolled her eyes, held up a finger to indicate he was to wait, and finished
with, "Okay, I'll let her know. Thank you."
She ripped free the message, shoved it into a bin on the edge of the counter,
and looked expectantly to Atticus. "Can I help you?"
"Thomas James DeMent rents a boat slip here," Atticus said, giving her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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