Andrea Kane - The Line Between Here and Now

“And Ryan’s tracing the calls?”

“Oh, yeah. Your plan was genius-scare Fenton, watch him run. Ryan’s hard at work-we’ll probably have the names of half the mob by the time he’s done.”

Casey sighed. “All we need are the ones who took part in Paul’s disappearance-if any of them did.” A pause. “What happened with Ryan and that attorney?”

“It was a bust, just as we expected,” Marc replied. “The guy is a Boy Scout without a blemish on his record. He loves kids and puppies and gives to all the local charities. So you think he’d be the epitome of compassion in a situation like this one. But, nope. He shut down like a clam the minute he heard what Ryan wanted. Didn’t give him so much as a clue. He stuck to attorney-client privilege, and said he’d talk to us only if we got written permission from John Morano.”

“Right, like Morano’s going to give us that.”

“Exactly. But, judging from Ryan’s description, this lawyer is just too good to be true. It only makes this situation stink even more.”

“Agreed.”

Marc paused. “Is Hutch gone?” he asked diplomatically.

“No, I think he’s staying till tomorrow.”

Marc heard her loud and clear. “Good. Then he and I can grab a beer before he takes off.”

“I’ll let him know.” Casey pulled up to the curb and parked the car, grateful that she’d found a spot only half a block from the office. Meanwhile, she could hear Ryan’s muffled voice talking to Marc at the other end of the phone.

“Hey, Case?” Marc responded. “Ryan asked if you’d stop in the conference room when you get back to the office and see if we’re getting Gecko’s transmission from Morano’s trailer. It seemed to be functioning well the last time Ryan checked his laptop-which, by the way, was fifteen minutes ago-but he wants to double-check that it’s coming through clearly at your end so we have a backup copy on the server.”

“No problem. I’m here. I’ll do that first thing.”

“You won’t be seeing anything too impressive,” Marc reminded her. “Just the crappy interior of a trailer-turned-office. And a polished, harried-looking guy.”

“Morano.”

“Yup. Morano.”

“Got it.” Casey unbuckled her seat belt. “I’m hanging up now. I’ll give you a call later.”

She went straight upstairs to the conference room and sat down at the large oval table.

“Good morning, Casey,” Yoda greeted her. “Will you be requiring my services?”

“Yes, Yoda. Please display the live feed from Gecko.”

“Certainly. Would you like me to fill the entire wall?”

“No. Please size the video for optimal resolution.”

“Engaging Faroudja video enhancement,” Yoda announced. A brief pause. “Video is coming up now. How is the quality, Casey?”

“Perfect, Yoda.” Casey focused on the screen and the clear image that had appeared. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Let me know if you need anything else.” Yoda fell silent.

Yup. Gecko was doing a fine job, Casey thought, leaning forward to scrutinize the picture. She could clearly make out the dumpy trailer that Morano was using as an office. Morano was in and at his desk. Casey recognized him from the online photos Ryan had showed her when he traced Morano’s background. The guy wasn’t doing anything too exciting; just typing at his keyboard and flipping through a few files.

Just as Casey was about to call her findings in to Ryan, Morano’s cell phone rang. Not the one on his desk, but another one, which he yanked out of his pants pocket.

“Yeah,” he answered. He went rigid. “What do you mean, he’s on his way home? How the hell did he get out of there so fast? And how did he put the pieces together?” A pause. “Shit. He’ll be flying straight to JFK. That’s just thirteen hours in the air. Which gives me one fucking day. How do you suggest I pull this off?” He stood up and began pacing, so agitated that he looked as if he might kill someone. “Okay, good. Just have him stopped. I need a little more time. I know, I know. Just buy me a couple of days.”

He punched off the phone. “Shit!” he shouted at the empty room. “Shit, shit, shit!” He picked up a mug and hurled it against the wall. It shattered into fragments. Then, he sank down at his desk, dragging an arm across his sweating forehead. Whatever he had to accomplish, it was big. And it was in the process of being compromised.

A myriad of thoughts flooded Casey’s mind.

The person Morano was referring to had to be Paul Everett. And Morano himself was in this as deep as Fenton. Maybe more so, if he were part of the mob.

Without further speculation, Casey punched Ryan’s number on speed dial. “Are you behind the wheel?” she demanded.

“Nope, a passenger,” he replied. “I just switched off with Claire, since I’ve been driving since last night. I needed to take a break.”

“Well, don’t. Tell Claire to pull over to the side of the road. All three of you get in the back of the van. Rewind the transmission from Gecko about three minutes. Then, watch.”

“Done.” Ryan didn’t ask any questions. He just acted.

While Casey stayed on the phone, she could heard a mingle of voices and a rush of activity. Then some slamming car doors and shuffling around.

“We’re all back here,” Ryan said. “I’m putting you on speaker, and putting down the phone so I can rewind the video feed.”

Casey waited impatiently while Ryan reversed the feed and backed it up about three minutes. Then, he shifted back into play mode.

“Yup, that’s Morano,” Marc identified. “Sitting at his desk.”

“Keep watching,” Casey instructed. She listened as her other team members watched and heard what she had.

“Holy shit.” Ryan reacted first. “I thought Morano was a victim. That must have been a setup. He’s one of them.”

“One of whoever’s keeping Paul Everett away,” Marc clarified. “It could be the mob. It could be law enforcement. We just don’t know.”

“We do know that it’s Paul Everett on a flight,” Claire inserted. “His energy has been in transition since I got to Amanda’s. I kept walking around her apartment, going from room to room, trying to understand what I was sensing. But this is it. He’s on his way home.”

“Which means he’s flying into JFK from somewhere,” Casey said. “We don’t know where and we don’t know when. All we know is that it’s a thirteen-hour flight, that it’s landing at JFK sometime today, and that whoever they are, they intend to stop him from getting to Amanda and Justin.”

“We might not know any of the details,” Marc said in a hard tone. “But Morano does. We could confront him. But that would only backfire. He’d shut down and refuse to tell us a damned thing. We’re better off sticking close by and monitoring him. Eventually, he’ll be having a follow-up chat.”

“I agree,” Casey said. “You three stay out there and keep a close eye on Morano. Call me ASAP if you see or hear anything before I do. I’m contacting Patrick and getting him to call in security relief. I want him at JFK’s International Terminal. Thirteen hours means the flight is originating overseas. Marc, you’ve done the most international traveling. Come up with a list of potential origins. In the meantime, Ryan, you search for flights about thirteen hours in length that are landing at JFK. The two of you compare notes to find the most likely time and terminal.”

“Done,” Marc said.

“In the meantime, Patrick can pick me up and we’ll go to JFK together. Two sets of eyes are better than one. Until we get your text, we’ll check out the arrival schedule and figure out some possibilities on our own. And, if either one of us spots Paul Everett, or anyone tries to detain him, we can act.”