The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [33]
Linderman’s eyes narrowed. His daughter’s high school graduation photograph sat on the windowsill directly behind him. Danielle Linderman was tall, blond, and athletic, just like the two victims.
“Could this pair have abducted my daughter?” he asked.
His voice was flat and hard. I detected no outer emotion on his face, but I knew it was there, buried deep within him like a smoldering flame. I didn’t want to fill him with false hope, but for all I knew it could be true.
“Yes,” I said.
His eyelids fluttered almost imperceptibly.
“I’ve spoken with the police several times,” I continued. “Unfortunately, they’re stuck on another suspect. Sara Long’s boyfriend is going to be charged with her abduction.”
His jaw tightened. “You obviously came here with a plan of action. What is it?”
“I’d like you to do two things for me. The cops have located the stolen minivan used in the abduction. The abductors wiped it clean of fingerprints, but there’s a chance they left behind some trace of DNA. I was hoping the FBI would inspect the minivan to see if I’m right.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Where’s the minivan now?”
I gave him the address where vehicles were impounded by the Broward cops.
“What’s the second thing?” Linderman asked.
“The police have checkpoints at all major highways and roads. I’m certain the abductors are lying low, waiting to move Sara. Once they turn on the TV and hear that Sara’s boyfriend is being charged, they’ll know that the checkpoints have been lifted, and will try to move her.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want the FBI to turn on their cameras.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your cameras. I want you to turn them on and look for these guys.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I put my elbows on Linderman’s desk, and gave him my best no-nonsense look. “A few weeks after 9/11, I spotted crews in Broward installing surveillance cameras at the major intersections and toll-booths. I’m a nosy guy, so I took down the license numbers on their trucks, and checked them out. Guess what I found?”
“What?”
“They were all FBI.”
Linderman shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“It didn’t take me long to figure out what was up. Thirteen of the 9/11 hijackers lived in south Florida, so the FBI decided to install street cameras to hunt future terrorists. You probably don’t keep the cameras on all the time. Too expensive to operate and to monitor effectively. But you do turn them on when a suspected terrorist slips into town. Am I right?”
A thin smile crossed Linderman’s face. Then it was gone. That was as much as he gave you.
“You’ve very observant, Jack. Yes, there are surveillance cameras at every major intersection and tollbooth, and a few other places you might not imagine. It’s a secret, so I’m not supposed to talk about it.”
“Can I ask how they work?”
“The cameras are connected to a computer in this building that has a sophisticated facial recognition program built into its hard drive. We can burn a photograph of a suspected terrorist into the program and ask the computer to tell us when a person who resembles that photo passes in front of one of our surveillance cameras.”
“How well does it work?”
“We’ve nabbed several bad guys trying to slip in through Port Everglades just last month.”
“If I gave you a film of one of Sara Long’s abductors, could you take his photo off the film and put it onto your program?”
“It all depends upon the quality of the film.”
“It’s a surveillance tape from a casino.”
“That should be fine. We’ve used casino footage before.”
From my pocket I removed the two CDs I’d gotten at the Hard Rock, and handed them to him.
“Here you go,” I said.
Linderman slipped the first CD into his computer, turning the screen so it was visible to both of us. The tape of Mouse talking to the girls appeared.
“Any idea who this guy is?” Linderman asked.
“He calls himself Mouse. That’s all I know about him.”
“What’s on the second CD?”
“Another tape of Mouse. This time he’s outside the casino.”
“I’ll send both CDs downstairs, and have a tech