Swipe by Kathy Reichs

Author:Kathy Reichs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-12-16T05:00:00+00:00

We met Tempe in a dimly lit control room.

Three tiers of sleek modular workstations dropped, stadium style, to a window-wall overlooking the exhibit hall floor below. Each station was jammed with hard drives, monitors, microphones, and other high-tech equipment used to keep an eye on the convention.

Tempe was huddled with a small group on the second level. Officer Flanagan was there, along with the stone-faced woman in the navy pants suit, the T-800’s owner in his ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, Jenkins the Joker, and a security technician.

Video was playing on one of the screens. No one looked happy.

I hurried to join them, the boys trailing at my heels.

“Did you arrest Connors?” I asked.

Tempe nodded, face troubled.

“Mr. Connors has been temporarily detained at Dr. Brennan’s request,” Flanagan answered. “But I’ve discussed the situation with Director Ahern—” Flanagan glanced at Pants Suit, “—and we’ve decided to cut him loose.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “Did you check his bag? It was in the . . . knights’ locker room.”

Ahern’s voice was ice cold. “We searched Mr. Connors’s possessions, as we are permitted to do by contract with any vendor operating at the convention. There was nothing of interest.”

She snapped her fingers at Jenkins, who’d found time to wipe off most of his face paint. The boy read from a folded piece of paper in a quavery voice. “Two empty sandwich bags, an empty water bottle, iPod with earbuds, and a box cutter. Duct tape, too, but that was next to the bag, not inside.”

“Any vendor here can obtain tape of that kind.” Ahern pursed her lips in disgust, then turned to stare down at the stage. “We hope Mr. Connors will be understanding of our mistake.”

I followed Ahern’s gaze. Connors was sitting on a folding chair beside Officer Palmer, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He had an enormous head, with close-cropped, spiky brown hair, a pug nose, and small, angry eyes. Connors still wore his bulky chain-mail armor, but thankfully not the sword.

Connors drilled Officer Palmer with a disdainful sneer, which clearly made the gangly officer uncomfortable. He didn’t appear worried in the least.

Not good.

“The glass,” I said quickly. “It led us to the armor room, where we found tape identical to that used on the ransom note. Then Hi spotted brown fibers caught in Connors’s boots. Did you compare them with King Kong?”

“We did.” Tempe turned to Hawaiian Shirt. “Mr. Fernandez?”

“The hairs match, no question.” The man seemed anxious, his fingers tugging at the hem of his bongo shirt. “But Connors helped position Kong last evening, and claims he wore the same shoes. He also says he overslept this morning. Jenkins says that Connors cut out early last night as well. He’s out of a job—I won’t abide shirkers on my team—but there’s nothing pointing to him as the thief. Or anyone else, for that matter,” he finished wearily.

“But that’s why we’re here, right?” I looked to Tempe for support. “To check the surveillance video and see who moved the T-800.

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