False Light by Eric Dezenhall

Author:Eric Dezenhall [Dezenhall, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Greenleaf Book Group Press

26

I HAD INSTRUCTED Abigail to meet Pacho at his coffee shop again that evening so they could walk back to his house together. I wanted her to watch how he got inside. Did he use a key? Where did he put the key? Did he have an alarm system? If so, she should try to discover the code he punched in.

Goblin had given me a laptop that would carry a video and audio feed from Abigail’s vantage point. This would allow me to observe her interaction with Pacho. I was worried about her being alone with him, given his penchant for attacking young women. But Abigail was determined to go forward. I trusted her instincts but not Pacho’s. I also didn’t trust the damned laptop to work. At least I’d convinced her to take the pepper spray.

Abigail’s transmission device was in a pair of glasses Goblin had rigged for her. Audio and video. I had seen this work once with a source who had infiltrated a nuclear laboratory in Pakistan and had filmed a meeting with a lens in his glasses. I wanted not only to see and hear what Pacho was saying to Abigail, but also to get a sense of his house: the layout, the style, the artwork. I also wanted to see Pacho’s watches up close to check for authenticity. The video capacity of such a small camera wouldn’t be ideal, but it was better than having no visual sense at all.

Pacho and Abigail crossed the leafy Georgetown intersection in front of my parked Jeep. Pacho was taller than Abigail but not by much. Good, I thought. Less chance that he could overpower her easily—although my assumption was that Pacho’s modus operandi was not straight-up, ferocious rape. No, that would conflict with his self-image as a smooth operator. If Samantha’s story was any indication, he would wait until some clothes were off and there was some relative sense of the consensual—and then he’d get mean. If I heard something I didn’t like, I would start banging on the door and calling the cops, our scheme be damned.

Pacho’s place was a four-story brick townhouse attached to a similar structure on the right. There was an alley on the left side of his house, which separated it from smaller, less imposing homes. His entryway, where he stood with Abigail for a moment before disappearing inside, was recessed by about four feet. There was a thick oak door with a metallic keypad to the right.

I opened the laptop, which Goblin assured me would immediately broadcast what Abigail was seeing. It did not. Although I did hear the audio feed, all I saw was a black square where there should have been a picture. I called Goblin on my cell and cursed. He said he would “remote on” to get me the video feed. Within thirty seconds, I could see the cursor moving on the screen.

“Now don’t go too far from your cell,” I demanded, “because the minute I’m left alone

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