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A troubling thought stirred in me, and I leaned forward. “How long ago was this?”
“Six hours, give or take.” He hesitated. “We weren’t notified because Bjorn’s off the books.”
We hadn’t wanted a paper trail that the director’s loyalists could follow to free his number-one stooge. As usual, what at first seemed like a good idea had bitten us on the butt.
Intruding on my thoughts, he said, “I’ll let you know when the compulsion has been broken.”
“Thanks.” I ended the call to find Asa standing on my periphery. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That the director dropped Clay in our laps as a distraction so Bjorn could spirit him away?”
The director knew I couldn’t resist an opportunity to save my friend, that trying not to hurt Clay would buy him time to get away. After the wig-tracking-spell fiasco, he was probably glad to be rid of him once he realized we wouldn’t give up on him easily.
“Why would Luca free Bjorn?” I drew my knees to my chest. “What good would that do her?”
Had there been more to Clay’s warning? Too bad we couldn’t wake him up to ask, but the risk of triggering situational orders from the director was too great.
“Bjorn is with the director?”
Jerking my head up, I spotted Colby gliding in for a landing on Asa’s head. “We think so.”
“He was a prisoner for a while, right?” Her antennae shot upright. “Long enough to leave DNA?”
Witches, and anyone who spent time with them, learned fast not to leave any hair, nail clippings, blood, or saliva where an enemy might find it and use it against them. That, or they died. Often horribly. Bjorn, as close as he stuck to the director, knew better than most to never leave parts of himself behind. But it was a different beast entirely when you were isolated in a cell. Disposal options were more limited, andno onewould hang around to clean up after themselves in an enemy lair if the cell doors swung open to set them free.
Not even type-A Bjorn. His devotion to the director was borderline obsessive, but he wouldn’t have hesitated to book it out of there.
“Yeah.” A grin broke across my face, and I sought out Dad. “Can I borrow your magic?”
“Of course.” He glanced between Colby and me. “I would be happy to hunt Bjorn down for you.”
Poor Dad probably thought this meant I was letting go of the idea of having the other anchors removed.Nope.I had just about talked myself into going again, actually. But I was happy to relyon him for spells I couldn’t perform for myself at the moment. The rest? Well. He would figure it out soon enough.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
While the black witch began the painful process of removing Isiforos’s tattoo, Fergal drove out to where the prisoners of our personal war against the director were being held to collect the material required to track Bjorn. He would be with the director. Of that I had no doubt. The giant had a one-track mind where his master was concerned, which made Bjorn an ideal beacon.
The plan was for Fergal to overnight what we required, which meant we had hours to burn.
Back at the hotel, Colby sat on the couch with the laptop, a frown knitting her brow.
“Find anything else?” I stretched my arms over my head. “Any giant red arrows pointing toward Luca?”
“Most of this information is useless,” she admitted. “It’s like when Clay and I were gone. You had no clue where we kept the passwords or accounts or anything else. You couldn’t use any of the resources issued under your pseudonyms to make tracking your movements harder. You were stuck with the Bureau card or paying out of pocket for any purchases.”
Either of those were easy to track for anyone who knew me by Rue Hollis and had the faintest computer skills and accessto the Black Hat database. The Bureau credit card got used anytime I had a big business expense or wanted people within the organization to be able to find me. Like when I showed up to work cases. But I only used my personal debit card at home, in Samford. It would be an absolute last resort for emergency spending before I touched it and allowed the taint of this life to touch the one I left behind.
Nan might have been abitshortsighted with her revenge scheme by cutting Luca off instead of leaving it all in place, giving us the means to track her. That, or it had been a ploy. Maybe Nan wanted us to waste our time cracking her codes instead of doing the legwork required to find Luca before she took her revenge a step too far.
As I thought about it, I began to feel lighter, more certain. “What I’m hearing is, Luca is a sitting duck.”
When Nan made the mistake of hacking the Kellies, she allowed Colby to return the favor. Colby had the master list of Luca’s aliases, and their attendant credit cards. The primary one had been deactivated after New Orleans, but without Nan to issue new ones, Luca only had those identities to choose from.
“She won’t have Nan to cover her tracks,” Asa agreed. “Colby can trace her if she uses any of the cards on file.”
“And those charges will lead us straight to her.” Colby rubbed her hands together. “She’s going to make mistakes. We just have to be watching when she does.”
Given the maniacal glee in Colby’s eyes, I didn’t think the watching part would be an issue.
