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“So this should happen quickly,” Casey clarified.
“Yup.”
“I can’t wait for Fisher to hear the news.”
“It’ll probably be tomorrow or the next day. Otherwise, I’d suggest you stick around and see the expression on his face firsthand.”
“I couldn’t stick around, anyway,” Casey reminded him, steeling herself for the reaction she knew she was about to get from Hutch. “I’ve got a full calendar tonight. A six o’clock haircut. Then my class at eight.” She was referring to the biweekly human behavior seminar that she taught to a class of psychology students at NYU. “I’m going to both,” she stressed, trying to avoid a blowout fight with Hutch.
It didn’t work.
“Like hell you are!” Hutch nearly shouted. “Considering what’s going on, you’ll cancel the haircut and the class.”
“No way.” Casey shook her head. “I’ll take one of Patrick’s bodyguards with me. But I’ll repeat what I said when I first started getting these phone calls—I am not changing my life. And I’m not hiding. I’ll be sensible. But I won’t be a prisoner.”
“You two can kill each other on the ride home,” Marc interjected. “I just wanted you to know about Fisher’s impending transfer.”
“He won’t be surprised by that turn of events,” Hutch said, tabling his showdown with Casey for a few minutes. “Casey pretty much shoved the news in his face—and got him agitated enough to slip up. We’ve got what we need to go after Fisher for the past and present crimes.”
“Nice work,” Marc commended.
“What about at your end?”
“Like I said, still doing surveillance outside the meat market. It’s tedious. And we’ve got nothing yet except a massive headache. But we’re keeping on it. We’ll check in as soon as we have something.”
* * *
The truth was that it had been eighteen hours since Ryan had set up his surveillance.
He and Marc were bleary-eyed and no closer to the truth. All morning long, they’d watched as customers—mostly female—had entered the meat market, then exited with their purchases. A handful of times, customers had left without making a purchase. Interestingly, all of those customers had been men.
But that was the one, unimpressive, concrete observation the day had brought.
“Goddammit,” Ryan said, sitting back in disgust. “Technology did shit for us this time. Outside video surveillance isn’t enough. We’ve got to find a way to see what’s going on between the customers and the owner.”
“You want me to break in to the store?” Marc asked, still squatting in front of the computer screen. “You could install Gecko inside the ventilation system.”
Gecko was Ryan’s small robotic invention—a little R2D2 that traveled through tight spaces and provided both audio and video feed.
Ryan didn’t seem too enthusiastic. “Gecko could do the job—if we knew exactly what we were looking for and if one of us spoke Arabic. And even if we could manage both, I’d have to eyeball the ventilation system first and figure out the best location for Gecko.”
“All of which takes time,” Marc agreed. “Not to mention the fact that we’d have to plan the break-in.”
“I don’t like it.” Ryan fell silent, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “There has to be another way,” he muttered.
Abruptly, he raised his head. “I just came up with a great idea. If it works, we could have our answers immediately.”
“I’m listening.”
“Listen while I tell Casey.” Ryan reached for his iPhone. “I need her approval on this one.”
* * *
The call from Ryan interrupted Casey and Hutch’s verbal battle.
“Hey, Ryan.” She was grateful for the interruption. “Marc told me you’d be calling. What’s up?”
“I have an idea. I need to run it by you and get your okay.”
