said.
“Nice how that works out, isn’t it?” Tye said.
“Then we’re all set?” Vail said.
“There’s one small problem. Because the purpose of the search warrant is so routine, and his apartment is apparently abandoned, there’s no justification for a nighttime entry. But a suggestion—sunrise is a little after five thirty, which is a time when most of his fellow apartment dwellers will be deep in REM sleep.”
THE ONLY SOUND in the dimly lit hallway was the metallic scratching of Tom Demick’s lock picks as he raked the tumblers of Stanley Bertok’s door lock. Vail had been surprised by the technical agent’s appearance when he had been introduced to him. His hair and full beard were pure white and made him look much older than his fifty-one years. He was stocky with a belly that hung amply over his belt. Vail supposed that because he didn’t look like anyone’s preconceived notion of a clandestine-operations agent, it gave him the perfect cover should he be interrupted. Demick’s hands, especially his fingers, were thick and stubby, like those of a second- or third-generation fisherman or some other occupation that required digital strength and leverage rather than quick dexterity. However, they worked precisely with no wasted motion. It took less than three minutes before Demick straightened up and carefully rotated the lock cylinder open. He looked at Kate to see if she needed anything else. She gave him a silent salute of thanks, and he lumbered off toward the rear parking lot.
Vail opened the door and stepped in quickly. Kate followed him, and while he locked the dead bolt, she placed a copy of the search warrant on the rickety kitchen table. There was still a copy of the first one executed by Los Angeles agents almost a week and a half earlier.
The one-bedroom apartment was sparsely furnished, and although its occupant hadn’t been there for a while, the acrid stink of cigarette smoke was still in the air. On a table next to a threadbare sofa was an answering machine; alongside it sat an ashtray with half a dozen butts in it. Kate handed Vail a pair of evidence gloves.
Although the light wasn’t blinking, the display on the answering machine showed three messages that had been heard previously but not erased. Vail hit the Play button and listened as one of Bertok’s ex-wives threatened him, in a routine voice, about his child-support payment being late again. The second message was the same woman not so patiently demanding an immediate call. The last one was someone who identified himself as Josh and asked for a call back. Kate said, “That’s probably his brother in Minnesota.”
Vail picked the handset out of the cradle and turned it over. A small screen on the back of it revealed an Incoming Calls button. He pushed it and scrolled through the numbers. “612 area code. That sound like Minnesota?”
“I think so,” Kate said. “He’s been interviewed, and we’re pulling his toll calls once a week just in case.”
Vail continued to scan the missed calls. He took out a small notebook and started writing the numbers down. “This is interesting. Do we know what time Bertok disappeared?”
“Not exactly. I don’t think anyone noted the exact minute that the car stopped moving. It was a little before three o’clock in the afternoon on the seventeenth.”
“There’s a bunch of incoming calls on the day of the drop, all from the same number. It looks like they were calling every fifteen minutes or so. The last one was at two thirty-eight p.m. Whoever it was never left a message.”
Kate walked over to Vail. “What’s the number?”
“It’s a 310 area code. Wait, I’ve seen this number.” He flipped through his notebook. “It’s the cell phone Bertok was given to take along on the drop and was left behind with the tracking devices. He was calling his own phone.”
“To check his messages.”
“I suppose it could have been routine, bored with the drive or nervous about what he was about to be put through.”
“Is calling every fifteen minutes routine?” She looked at Vail, who shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s assume for a minute that he had intended to steal the money. If he was calling that frequently, maybe it had something to do with his plans to get away.”
“Maybe.”
Kate went back to searching the drawers in the kitchen while Vail finished noting the calls. When Kate was finished, she said, “You done in here?”
“All set. Let’s search the bedroom. Nine out of ten times, that’s where the goods