“He rang me.”
“Oh, right! He called on his original phone. When was that?”
Quinn drew his mobile from his pocket, looked at the date on Jack’s message. “He rang on October twenty-eighth. It was almost nineteen-hundred hours in Afghanistan. That’s fourteen-thirty Glasgow time.”
Elizabeth turned back to the board, marker in hand, and wrote that down. “Let’s start there—with his phones. We’ve got the SIM and IMEI for the new one. I’m sure the police do, too, but let’s see what we find.”
She sat on the sofa, her laptop on the coffee table in front of her, and logged in to her computer at Cobra via VPN—their virtual personal network.
“Will the system detect you doin’ this?”
“I log in from overseas all the time and from home. There shouldn’t be any reason for the system to flag me.” She hit return. “There. I’m in.”
Quinn read the SIM and IMEI numbers from the photo she’d taken yesterday while Elizabeth entered them into the tracking framework. He had no idea how it worked. He only knew that the framework had been developed by the NSA—National Security Agency—and leased to Cobra. “Now what happens?”
“I’ll tell you what’snotgoing to happen. If we get a fix on this phone, you arenotgoing to go charging out there. You’re staying right here. I’ll send an anonymous email to Wilson so the police can handle it. Are we agreed?”
Quinn wanted to object but knew she was right. “Aye, agreed.”
“It shouldn’t take long.” She explained how the framework was actually a global network of cellular service providers that had agreed to share data with the NSA. “The program sifts through literally billions of numbers looking for a match and then connects with the GPS in that device or nearby cell towers to give us a location.”
“Is this what the police are usin’?”
“No, it’s far ahead of that. The police go directly to the service provider, and the service provider…” Her words trailed off. “It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
“His new cell phone. It’s not showing up anywhere. The search came up empty.” She doubled-checked the SIM and IMEI numbers and ran the search again, ending up with the same results. “Nada.”
“I dinnae understand. It must be somewhere.”
Elizabeth looked up at him, “Either the phone is being kept in a place that blocks EM energy—”
“Aye, like a Faraday cage?”
She nodded. “—or someone has destroyed it.”
* * *
“Now we knowwhy the police haven’t said anything about the stolen phones.” Elizabeth logged out of the VPN and closed her laptop. “They haven’t found them.”
“Ava disnae know that.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t tell her.” Elizabeth stood, stretched. “You don’t want to add to her worries, and if she mentions it to Wilson…”
“Aye. I’ve no desire to stand there while that numpty shouts in my face.” Quinn stood, too. “Are you hungry? I hope the hotel serves Scotch pie.”
She couldn’t even think about food. “I’ll never be hungry again after that breakfast. You go ahead and eat without me. I should probably go to the gym. Running helps me think.”
“I’ll get a bite and meet you there.”
While Quinn went downstairs to the restaurant, she put on a pair of leggings, a jog bra, and a T-shirt, turned on her security camera, and took the elevator to the third floor in search of the gym. It was the middle of a workday, so the room was almost empty. She walked over to a treadmill, keyed in her usual workout, and started her three-mile run.
Televisions hung at strategic points throughout the room, offering distraction. She focused on the news channel, letting her mind relax.
Preparations for Remembrance Day across the UK.
Lest we forget.