BioKill by Stuart Handley Page A

virtues.
    “Yep!” It would take more than Homeland Security to take the boy out of the hacker. Nicco’s fingers and mind worked magic.
    Director Hall, known for having eyes in the back of his head and an uncanny ability to read people’s minds, didn’t miss his fellow director leaning over Nicco. His inquisitiveness barreled him over in her direction.
    “What’s up, Suzanna?” Hall noticed her slight look of surprise. His mention of ‘silos’ had been directed at her, and she knew it.
    “Bank statements came in, our two suspects purchased tickets at around ten fifty-three this morning at the Port Terminal.”
    “Where to?”
    “We’re just getting to that now.”
    “What have you got, son?” Hall’s attention turned to Nicco, who wasn’t the slightest overwhelmed by two directors looking over his shoulder.
    “Gimme a minute.” Nicco, totally engrossed in his computer, replied without looking up from his screen. Lopez unfolded her arms and was about to discipline him when Hall stopped her.
    “Just take your time, son.”
    “You betcha, sir… I’ll just wind the clock back a bit on the tapes, got it, there you go, now let me just grab the pics we have of our two and do a… bit… of… facial recognition. That’s my girl, come on, sweetheart, come to Nicco… Yes! Ta-da!”
    Hall had to put on his reading glasses. In front of him on the screen, two men were standing in front of an automated ticket machine.
    “Take it forward frame by frame; see if we can get a close-up on the tickets.”
    “Okey-dokey.”
    “There — stop! That’s Yusuf, he’s turning, take it forward. Good, keep going, stop. Zoom in on that ticket.”
    Nicco obliged but the picture was now grainy and nothing could be read. “Let me do a bit of enhancing, just a bit here and a bit there. Now — howzat?”
    Both Hall and Lopez struggled to read the ticket and leaned forward over each of Nicco’s shoulders. Nicco now started to feel a touch too close to his bosses and the perfume Lopez was wearing was just a bit much. “Hey, man, lemme breathe here!” The directors backed off. Nicco studied the screen hard, thankful he now had his personal space back. “I see a capitol B followed by an i… n… g… Bing… Binghamton.”
    Director Hall brought both his hands down on Nicco’s shoulders. “Good on you, son. Now can you see what time the bus leaves?”
    Nicco squinted. “Nope… but if I go in here and scroll down… here. And hello, baby, there’s the bus timetable for Binghamton. Two bus services travel to Binghamton — Greyhound and Short Line. But which one? Eeny meeny miny moe…”
    “Hurry up and find out.” Lopez was impatient.
    Nicco pondered the situation. “You have the banking details, right? So how much did the tickets cost?”
    Lopez looked at the statements. “Fifty-seven dollars.”
    “Bingo!” A split screen displayed on the monitor in front of Nicco. “Two different bus companies, two different prices and fifty-seven dollars belongs to… Greyhound buses.”
    Matt Lilburn entered the operations room. None of the intensity had gone — if anything, it had increased. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Evangeline’s shapely silhouette, bent over talking intently to a group at the other side of the room. But before he could make his way over, his name rang out.
    “Matt, over here.” Director Hall had spotted him.
    “Sir, Ma’am.”
    “Stay here.” Hall turned his attention to Lopez. “What was the time the tickets were bought?”
    “The first ticket was bought at ten fifty-three.”
    “Nicco, when is that bus scheduled to leave the terminal?”
    “Eleven-thirty, sir, and the next one at one-twenty.”
    “How long is the trip?”
    “That would be… Three hours and twenty-five minutes with zero stops.”
    Hall did some quick mental calculations. “Arrives fourteen fifty-five at Binghampton. Time now thirteen-ten, half-hour chopper flight from here. We could have a team at