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John looks toward the traffic-camera map.

“Which exit has the fewest cameras?”

Marquez enlarges the area.

“The western service exit.”

“Show us every vehicle that used it within ten minutes of the truck entering.”

A technician brings the footage onto the main monitor.

Cars pass through the service exit.

A white sedan.

Two pickup trucks.

A plumbing van.

A dark SUV.

Piers points to the plumbing van.

“That one.”

“Why?” I ask.

“It’s riding low in the rear.”

The technician freezes the image.

The van has no company name printed on its side. A magnetic sign has been removed, leaving a clean rectangle against the dirty paint.

“Run the plate,” Marquez orders.

The answer returns a moment later.

“Plate belongs to a blue Honda registered in Oakland.”

“Stolen plate,” Ben says. “Follow the van.”

The traffic system tracks it for four blocks before it disappears beneath an overpass.

“There are no municipal cameras beyond that point,” the technician reports.

Scott studies the map.

“What’s on the other side?”

“Industrial storage, two repair shops and an abandoned ferry warehouse.”

Ben and the other SEALs exchange a look.

“The water,” Ben says.

“Simon moved them by boat,” Piers adds.

Keating reaches for his radio. “I’ll have patrol vessels search the shoreline.”