Chris Mooney - The Soul Collectors

'That's more your territory than mine. You've dealt with the group longer than I have, so you know more about them than I do. Given what you told me, they want Casey. The family is just a means to an end. They know you can't watch or protect him for ever either. They'll wait and plan, and when the moment presents itself, they'll take him and he'll most likely vanish like the others. As for the man's wife and daughter, I wouldn't hold out much hope of seeing them alive again.'

Darby popped the plastic case off the USB drive, then worked the pen knife's blade to prise open the metal case hidden underneath.

'So what you're saying, Tom, is that you've got shit.'

'That pretty much sums it up, yeah,' Geary said. 'Ross told you about the symbol, what he thinks it means?'

'He said the person who wears it is a slave to an Archon.'

'Correct.'

'We found the same symbol tattooed on the chest of a former Boston cop about an hour ago. A cop who worked the Charlie Rizzo investigation.'

Darby put the pen knife on the table and opened the metal case with her fingers, thinking about John Smith leaning on the balcony railing of his home, proud and smiling at what he had achieved, his wife taking in rescue dogs.

'What did he say?' Geary asked.

'He's dead.'

'Finding one or more of the people connected to this group is going to be your best bet, I think, of finding where Casey's wife and kid are being stashed.'

'Provided they'll talk.'

'I don't have anything that can help you, Sergey. I'm sorry. You know what you need.'

'Evidence.'

'That's right. Something that will lead you to them. Any leads there?'

'Maybe. There's someone who — '

Darby seized Sergey's arm and said, 'That lead turned out to be a dead end.'

Sergey whipped his attention to her. Darby made a cutting motion near her throat with her hands, signalling for him to stop talking. Then she pointed to the dismantled parts of the USB drive scattered on the table.

Darby looked at the monitor screen and said, 'We don't have anything to go on, Mr Geary. Nothing at all. Thank you for your time.'

She got out of her seat and cut the signal before Geary could do any more damage.

Sergey gripped the edge of the table, staring at a small microphone attached to a battery that had been hidden inside the USB. The listening device had been glued down to keep it from moving, the mike affixed underneath the USB's tiny heat vent so it could eavesdrop on conversations like the one they'd just had.

Casey had seen it too. He had moved out from the corner and now stood behind Sergey, leaning over his shoulder. Both faces were pale, slick with perspiration.

'We're screwed,' Darby said.

Both men looked up at her.

'No evidence, no leads,' she said, the frustration clear in her voice. 'Every avenue we've explored leads to another dead end.'

Casey nodded and played along: 'We still have the USB drive. The computer guys — '

'It's a wipe,' Darby said. 'No digital fingerprints. There's nothing on the video that can help us. We won't find them that way.'

'What about the safe house? They had to have left something behind.'

'I read the report. They found nothing. I'm sorry, Jack, but we don't have any evidence. These people are too smart at covering their tracks.' A long, tired sigh, and then Darby said, 'I need a break, grab some coffee.'

'I think we could all use one,' Sergey said, standing. 'Let's meet back here in fifteen.'

They regrouped in the adjoining room, in the far corner near the corkboard holding the yellowing photographs for the missing children from 1945 to 1972.

Darby took the lead. 'It's minor damage.'

Sergey's jaw dropped. 'Minor damage? They just overheard that entire call. And that USB drive has been floating around from person to person. It's been sitting on desks inside the lab where people have been talking about evidence. Jesus.'

Sergey pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Casey, arms across his chest, stared at the children smiling at him from the board.

'There's nothing we can do. It's over,' Darby said. 'But it's still a lucky break.'

Casey spoke. 'Radio frequency.'

'Exactly,' she said. 'All we need to do is find out what radio frequency that listening device is set to and track it down. You have that kind of equipment on board?'

'I'm not sure,' Sergey said. 'Let me talk to our tech guys.'

'Wait, before you go, what were you about to say before I cut you off?'

'I have a potential lead. Our forensic entomologist identified the bee you found and called a conservation biologist from the University of Connecticut, this guy named James Wright. He's on the phone, holding.'

'Any other place where we can talk to him?'

'No, not at the moment. We have only one of those conference-phone units set up.'

'Get the USB drive out of there,' Darby said. 'Pack it away someplace where it can't do any more damage and then meet us back at the conference room.' Darby took her original seat. Casey leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and Sergey sat on the edge of the table next to the conference-room phone.

Sergey pressed a button. 'Mr Wright?'

'Still here,' replied a nasal and reedy voice.

'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, sir. Thank you for holding.

'Mr Wright, I have two people sitting with me right now: Jack Casey and the person who discovered the bee, Dr Darby McCormick. She's also one of our special investigators. I've told them who you are and how you came to us, so in the interests of saving time go ahead and summarize what you told me about the bee.'

'The bee,' Wright said, 'is a silver-haired species known as Epeoloides pilosula. They're very rare in New England. In fact, we thought the species was extinct. The last time one was spotted was in Needham, Massachusetts, back in 1927. Then, a little over a year ago, I discovered one here in Connecticut, in the south-eastern part of the state — in a power line corridor, of all places. That's what made my study so controversial. I won't bore you with the details, as I know you're pressed for time, but suffice to say people think these power line corridors — or transmission corridors, as they're more commonly referred to — are disruptive to the environment. When you carve out a section of forest, you don't expect to discover, decades later, a rare species of bee that was generally considered extinct to be thriving underneath power lines, of all places.

'But that's exactly what happened — and is still happening. Because of the excavation, and the considerable care taken to prune trees to a height that won't disrupt the power lines, we are, in essence, re-creating what I guess you could call a meadow in which dwindling insects like bees can thrive as well as other animals and plants. Needless to say, most of the conservation groups are up in arms about this.'

Darby said, 'What about Massachusetts? Have there been any confirmed sightings?'

'It's possible these silver-hairs are thriving somewhere in Massachusetts, but, if they are, no one has reported it. I spoke with several of my New England colleagues — we're a small group — and not one of them has any documented sightings of Epeoloides pilosula. As far as I know, the transmission corridor here in Connecticut is the only area where these silver-hair bees have been discovered.'

'Do they or can they live in someplace like a basement or cellar?'

'I'm not sure I understand your question.'

'Would these bees seek shelter in someplace like a house? We're already well into autumn, and my understanding is bees can't thrive in cool weather.'

'Ah, now I see where you're heading. As I'm sure you're all well aware, we've been experiencing several climate changes in the last decade. Warmer winters and sometimes we don't even have a spring, we head right into the start of summer. And several times since the start of October, we've hit temperatures in the high seventies, so it's not uncommon to see bees and other insects during these periods.