Next Victim by Michael Prescott Page B

if his story checks out. If it doesn’t, we can set up surveillance or bring him in for more questions."
    "Will do."
    "If we talk to him again, we need some facts to trip him up. Another staring contest"—he still didn’t look at Tess—"isn’t going to get it done."
    Michaelson disappeared inside. Tess leaned against a wall, worn out.
    When the door opened and William Hayde emerged, she straightened up. The FBI had an image to maintain, and so did she.
    "Pleasure doing business with you guys," Hayde was saying. He turned to Tess. "You seemed pretty anxious to see me—and even more anxious to get away."
    "I thought you were someone else," she said, her voice flat.
    He surprised her with a sympathetic look. "The Pickup Artist?"
    She said nothing.
    "You’ve been after him awhile," Hayde said.
    "What makes you say so?"
    "The way you stared at me when you walked into the room. Like you’d been waiting for that moment a long time."
    "You’re very perceptive, Mr. Hayde."
    He shrugged off the comment. "You’ll get him eventually."
    "I’m sure we will."
    "In the meantime…hang in there, okay?"
    She actually smiled. "Considering what we put you through tonight, you seem awfully solicitous toward me."
    "I have a weakness for pretty women."
    Her smile vanished. "Oh."
    He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I don’t suppose—"
    "I’m not into tie-up games, Mr. Hayde."
    "Your loss, baby."
    He walked away, whistling. Michaelson and Gaines escorted him out. Tess stared after him, wishing he’d been the one.
    She felt someone watching her. Turning, she saw Larkin in the doorway of the observation room.
    "Anything from the other undercover ops?"
    "Nothing so far."
    She glanced at her wristwatch. It was one A.M. "We’ve missed him."
    "He could be getting a late start. Or maybe he’s not out there tonight."
    Tess didn’t answer. But she knew Larkin was wrong.
    Mobius was out there.
    He was always out there.
     

 
    12
     
     
    The agent’s name was Dante, he was a young hotshot from the Portland office, and he was excited.
    "Got it," Dante told Tennant as he slammed down the phone. "Driver for America’s Best Cab remembers picking up Pierce at LAX. He delivered her to the Century Plaza Hotel."
    "When did she get there?" Tennant snapped.
    "Twelve-fifteen."
    The clock on the wall read 1:05. She’d had fifty minutes to meet her contact. Too much time.
    "Let’s move," Tennant said, hoping for the best.
     
    The two unmarked bureau cars were parked in a passenger loading zone outside the terminal. Tennant and J&B took the first car, accompanied by Dante and another Portland man named Wilkins. The others followed in the second sedan.
    Jarvis drove, Tennant riding shotgun.
    "I’m betting she’s still there," Dante said from the backseat. "Probably checked in for the night, stupid bitch."
    "If she’s so stupid," Bickerstaff pointed out, "how come she gave us the slip?"
    Tennant cut off this conversation before it could become even more of a waste of time than it already was. "We go into the lobby and fan out, then proceed to the coffee shop, the pool area, and any other public spaces. Remember, she may still be waiting to meet someone, in which case, wherever she is, she’ll be watching the door. We know she’s already made some of us, so when she sees us coming, there’s a good chance she’ll run for it."
    "Any dark-haired lady breaks into a sprint, we’ll tackle her," Dante said, trying to be funny.
    "I don’t care if it’s a dark-haired lady or a blonde or a little kid with a lollipop. Anybody does anything suspicious, we hold them for questioning. If we’re lucky, we’ll get her and her contact."
    "And the suitcase," Jarvis said under his breath, his voice low enough that only Tennant could hear.
    Tennant nodded. Amanda Pierce wasn’t important. Even her contact would be a lower-echelon operative. The suitcase was what really mattered.
    "Let’s say she starts shooting," Bickerstaff said as the car sped north on