False Assurances: Ben Porter Series - Book One by Christopher Rosow

Author:Christopher Rosow
Format: epub

CHAPTER

53

“THE VIDEO ENHANCEMENTS will be completed shortly,” said a new voice from an opposite workstation.

We turned to look at Vanessa Raiden, who I knew to be Anastasia’s longtime associate, but had never laid eyes on. In fact, given the positioning of her workstation, I hadn’t even seen her earlier this afternoon, before I headed out on my second trip to Gloucester with Miles.

Raiden was not quite the legendary Intelligence Analyst that Anastasia was, but with her lithe, five-foot-ten frame, mocha skin and straight, swooping black hair, she was certainly no less striking. And it quickly became apparent that she was just as smart.

“And, in the meantime, as the tech team is working on the videos, I’ve got something. I heard the conversation about trying to track a boat that may have been in the vicinity of the Flying Lady. I’ve been working on that. Check this out.”

On the giant monitor, a map of the North Atlantic replaced the security camera images on-screen. “I created an animation from the AIS data. This is coordinated from various sources but sped up in time to make it watchable. Okay, now, look here,” she said, pointing to the waters off Marblehead and at an arrow-shaped icon, “that’s Flying Lady. And look here,” she pointed to a position well southwest and offshore of Nova Scotia, “that is a fishing vessel, broadcasting no name, just an MMSI number.”

“MM what?” I asked.

“That’s the AIS identification number. Stands for Maritime Mobile Service Identity. Nine digits. Unique to each AIS transmitter. Naturally, I looked at the data transmitted along with the GPS data. There’s nothing there. No name, no call sign, nothing. Which is suspicious in and of itself.”

“Hang on, though,” said Miles. “It’s not really all that suspicious, and nothing we would ever look at on the water. I mean, really, some of the commercial boats don’t squawk a name, especially the fishing boats. Again, not unusual. So why are we looking at that one?”

“Watch,” replied Raiden. As the animation continued, the fishing vessel moved in slow circles, remaining southwest of Nova Scotia, appearing to, well, fish. The Flying Lady icon slowly departed Marblehead and then sort of meandered toward the western tip of Nova Scotia. “What I can’t figure out is what you were doing for, like, the first twenty-four hours, Mr. Lockwood.”

He laughed. “Call me Miles. And that’s sailboat racing. There wasn’t much wind, so you sail angles, looking for a breeze, trying to go as fast as you can, which is really not that fast. Five, six knots, rarely pointed exactly where you want to go.”

“Doesn’t sound like much fun,” Raiden said. “Okay, here we go. It’s late afternoon on Monday. Your boat is starting to move more consistently.”

“Yeah, the breeze filled in. Good angle,” Miles commented.

“And watch the fishing vessel. Now it is midnight on Monday.” The fishing vessel and the sailboat icons had converged, and Raiden zoomed in on the map. The fishing vessel was now moving more northwards, but it looked like it would pass behind the sailboat, which was now sailing a straight course slightly north of east.

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