David Lindsey - The Rules of Silence

“Pretty much? ”Titus asked.

“We haven't actually seen him on the property. By intercepting encrypted cell phone transmissions in Spanish, we've narrowed it down to three houses. Now two of those have been eliminated. The one we're looking at is owned by a divorcee who divides her time between Austin and Santa Fe. When she's not here, she lets friends use it. This month she gave it to a woman from Laredo, who passed it on through a succession of her own friends. We lost the thread, but we think this is it.

“Also, one of my two mobile units is picking up cell phone action from another mobile unit-with very strong encryption-to Mexico City. But we're not having a lot of luck unraveling the encryption, and we're having trouble nailing the exact vehicle. We think it's Macias's people, and we think we can confirm that during your meeting tonight.”

“And then what? ”Titus asked.

“In order to coordinate a move on Luquin, we have to know where all of his people are at all times. With the first tactical move that we make against his people, there's a risk they'll be able to set off an instant signaling mechanism. Then it's all over. A special team that travels with Luquin-probably those guys you saw the other night-will quickly spirit him away. Unless our people are in place to deal with it, Luquin will be gone.”

Without further explanation, Burden opened the packet of breath fresheners and dumped out the little white pellets onto the table. Then he removed the top of the box, and from the inside of the plastic container he carefully slipped out a thin sheet of plastic that looked like waxed paper.

Nestled inside the paper was a variety of irregularly shaped blotches roughly half a centimeter in diameter, some cinnamon brown, some slightly darker than flesh, some ginger. Burden pulled a pair of tweezers out of his pocket and carefully lifted one of the objects. It was translucent, thin as cellophane.

“Moles and liver spots, ”he said. “They're adhesive on one side and won't loosen with sweat or water, but they're easy to peel off. So thin you have to know they're there to feel them. Designed by a dermatologist”-he laid the fake mole down on one side of the unfolded plastic sheet-“and a microfluids engineer. They're actually a by-product of something else, but this not-quite-there stage of the development turned out to be perfect for this kind of thing.

“They're little transmitters-for a special kind of receiver-and they'll transmit up to ten days and about twenty miles. We want you to put these on the backs of your hands and forearms. When you've found the right place, peel one off and leave it.”

Titus was bent over the table, looking closely at the moles. “And what are the right places? ”he asked.

“If you can get them on another person, that's best. Otherwise, leave them in a vehicle if it looks like it's one of theirs- say, one that's got electronic equipment or in some other way gives you the idea it's something they'll use again. If they take you someplace that looks like it's a permanent staging area, not a motel room, for example, then leave a spot. In short, leave them anywhere you think will be critical for us to know about… when the time comes.

“Notice, ”Burden added, pointing at the spots with the tweezers, “that there are light and dark moles. They send different signals. Leave one kind on vehicles, the other kind on people. That way we'll know what we're looking at. Since you won't be able to see the difference in the dark, you can put one kind on each hand so you can keep them straight.”

“How many of them are there? ”Titus asked.

“Only eight, unfortunately.”

“They've got to be expensive.”

“You're looking at fifty-three thousand dollars’worth of blotches. And they're worth every dime of it.”

“Then that's all you want him to do? ”Rita interjected. “Just leave these things… around.”

“That and, of course, get what he can out of the conversation. ”He looked at Rita. “This is essential, ”he said. “The information is invaluable.”

“So is he, ”she said evenly, and she looked as if for an extra dime she would have given Burden a piece of her mind, too, but she held her tongue. Barely.

Burden didn't react or respond. “One of them will send a slightly different signal, ”he said to Titus, and probed through the blotches, selecting one of the lighter ones with a black dot in the center of it. “It's yours. We'll put it on your upper arm and get it out of your way. That'll leave you seven to leave behind.”

“Okay, then we'd better get started, ”Titus said, putting both arms on the table. “I want to see how the things work, and there's not that much time left.”

Following Luquin's instructions, Titus steered his Range Rover through the gates of his property at exactly twelve-thirty and started down the winding half mile of private drive to Cielo Canyon Road. He had been told to make his way to Westlake Drive and then go south to the Toro Canyon intersection, where he would receive further instructions.

It didn't happen that way.

After he rounded the second steep bend of the descending drive, a man stepped out of the dark margin of the woods into the path of Titus's headlights and waved him down. When Titus stopped, the man came up quickly and opened his door.

“Please get out, Mr. Cain, ”he said in heavily accented English. Titus put the Rover in park and did as he was told, leaving the engine idling. The man got into the Rover and drove away without another word, leaving Titus standing in the middle of the paved road in the dark.

As the engine of his Rover receded and the buzzing sounds of lacewings filled the darkness, Titus heard the snap of a branch and turned around to see the black smear of another figure stepping out of the woods.

“Mr. Cain, ”the man said, approaching him. There was no flashlight. “Please put these on, ”the man said, and handed Titus a pair of goggles, which he slipped on. They had nightvision lenses, and the world became apple green with highlights of leached turquoise. He could now see that the man was wearing the same device. He was dressed in street clothes, his tight-fitting knit polo shirt revealing a trim stomach and muscular arms. The handgun at his waist was large.

They stepped off the road and into the woods, the man in front of him. They moved downhill through the cedar and underbrush, not hurrying but carefully picking their way through the dense cedar thickets, their dress loafers a distinct disadvantage on the rough terrain.

In just a few minutes they came to Cielo Canyon Road and stopped short in the edge of the woods. A car passed them as they stood only a few feet into the brush. Then another. The third car slowed, a Lincoln Navigator. It stopped, and Titus was hustled out of the woods and into the car, which started driving away before the doors were even closed.

He was in the seat behind the driver, with the man sitting next to him.

“The glasses, ”said the man sitting beside him, and Titus removed the goggles and handed them over.

Titus looked at the driver. The back of the head meant nothing to him. When he glanced at the man beside him, the guy was looking at him. Mexican.

A scanner attached to the dash in the front beeped and crackled, and a satellite map, crisp and clear, was mounted beside that. As if sensing Titus's interest, the driver leaned forward and turned off the monitor. Sighing heavily, Titus worked off a mole from the back of his left hand and stuck it to the front of the seat between his legs.

In just a few turns they pulled into a housing development and drove through the streets until they came to the back side of the development, where two houses were under construction.