Blink of an Eye (Kendra Michaels #8) - Roy Johansen Page 0,85
have permission to rape Delilah. You might have been the one who was brought here to exert pressure, but I’d much rather see it happen to her. And it would be amusing to give those assholes their last chance at screwing the great Delilah.” She was smiling maliciously. “Oh, yes, definitely their last chance. I guarantee they’d be willing. They won’t see why they shouldn’t have their fun now that they already have the money. That’s even funnier.” She was laughing as the heavy door slammed behind her.
“I told you.” Dee drew a deep breath. “I’m her least favorite person.”
“Definitely,” Jessie said grimly. “There’s real antagonism. Another question mark.”
“She’s trying to use us against each other,” Dee said. “You can’t let her do that. You shouldn’t have even come after me. I’m not that kid who you thought you had to take care of. I can do that myself these days.” Her lips twisted. “Though I might have let you think that because it kept you close to me. Not very nice, right? So you let me take my share of the hard knocks from now on. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” she said gently. “We’ll discuss the distribution of the hard knocks later.” She frowned. “I was more interested that Charlotte got careless enough to perhaps let us know why I was brought here. I’ll have to think about it.” She shook her head impatiently. “But I don’t want to worry about it right now. That was a hollow threat she made. She’s not going to turn the beasts on you now. As she said, they’re too near their payday, but no matter what she boasts, she’s not the one in control.” The door was opening again, and she whispered quickly, “Don’t argue, don’t fight them. Just notice everything about them and what they do that might help us. All we want is to let them chain us up and then get the hell out of here so that we can get busy…”
* * *
Kendra glanced at the caller ID as she jumped on the phone to answer it. At last! “Metcalf, tell me you have some good news from checking those traffic cams.”
“Sorry, but there’s nothing so far. They probably switched vehicles and jumped onto the 10 Freeway. We’re checking every garage and storage unit in the area, but nothing’s turned up yet.”
“Damn.”
“But there is something else…we got a hit on our Be On the Look Out for James Dorset.”
Her hand clenched on the phone. “You found him?”
“Not exactly. But his pickup truck has turned up.”
“Where?”
“North L.A. County, up in Lancaster. It’s parked behind an old factory there. A sheriff’s department helicopter spotted it. It must have looked out of place to them, so they ran his plate and picked up the BOLO.”
“No sign of Dorset?”
“He’s not in the building or anywhere in the surrounding grounds. The truck is clean, so it was probably abandoned recently.”
“I want to see it.”
“I had no doubt. A tow truck is en route to bring it to the FBI garage in West L.A. You can examine it there tonight.”
“I want to see it right where it is. Lynch and I are heading up to Lancaster right now.”
Lynch wrinkled his brow and mouthed, We are?
“Kendra, our tow truck is already—”
“If they get there before we do, have them wait. Don’t let them touch anything. Do you understand?”
“Of course I understand,” Metcalf said. “But remember this operation is being run out of the L.A. regional office. They’re not used to taking orders from you here.”
“Come on, I never order. I politely request.”
“Ha. Keep telling yourself that, Kendra. Get yourself up there as quickly as you can. Don’t worry, I’ll buy you some time before they haul the car away.”
“You’re the best. Text me the address?”
“Already done.”
“Thanks, Metcalf.”
* * *
Kendra and Lynch were halfway to the factory when Lynch received a call from the Swiss AV lab. His conversation was in French, and Kendra could only understand a few words before he hung up. She watched as he took a few notes. “Good?”
“Probably better than good. They’ve identified the software used to alter the voice, and they reverse-engineered the recording to give us an accurate facsimile of the caller. Karl said he’s going to finish the last bit and transmit it to us within the hour.”
“You’re right: better than good.” She was nibbling nervously at her lower lip. “How accurate?”
“Every detail. You wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if you were listening to