Page 138 of The Grave Artist

Which was all he really cared about anyway.

The bots had been released like hounds after foxes.

As he watched the progress, his anger began to grow once again.

Heron. He had to be behind it. He was the one who had identified Damon—and in doing so took him off the table as a weapon that could have been turned against the intrusionist and his likely girlfriend, Carmen Sanchez.

Thirty minutes later he was watching the police prowl cautiously through the house. He was calm. All the data mentioning him had been wiped.

Now, he could turn his attention to the question of how best to use their captive, Selina. One way would be to—

A voice behind him made his heart slam hard. “You really should have kept pinging the laboratory in Switzerland. But you didn’t, so it had to be misdirection.”

Kane shot to his feet and spun around.

Jake Heron stood in the doorway, lifted his arm and pointed a black device about the size of a stapler at him.

Heron did not threaten. He did not warn. Instead, he pressed a button with his thumb and fired two barbs into Kane’s chest, sending him falling to the ground, wrapped in a fiery shroud of pain.

Chapter 66

Curious seeing your nemesis before you.

Surprising how much smaller they seem in real life.

But then baby copperheads can be more dangerous than their parents.

Jake was observing the groggy Tristan Kane gasping and moving slowly. Had he been completely still, Kane might be taken for dead, given his ashen pallor.

Wincing, breathing hard, gazing around the room, then looking back to Jake, who leaned against the battered desk in the battered room, whose key card lock had taken him half a second to defeat. The man could only stare at his captor, awash with confusion.

How Heron found this nest was an easy win. If Kanewerethe partner, as they speculated, he would be handling Garr’s security. And that meant the instant he saw a takedown in Garr’s house he would send signals to Garr’s electronics to wipe the data.

Signals that Jake had quickly traced to the source.

Which was why he had told a confused Carmen that he supported Reynolds’s plan to raid Garr’s house.

As soon as that happened and Kane sent the wiping command, Heron sourced the signal’s origin: this modest bed-and-breakfastnear Garr’s. And armed with a stun gun equipped to fire darts, he’d come to visit.

Jake had never told Sanchez about the device he’d cobbled together using batteries, a step-up transformer, an oscillator, wires, a couple of barbs and other odds and ends. He wasn’t violating any laws by building a homemade stun gun. Using it, however, probably crossed a legal line.

Which was why he didn’t plan to mention it. Or the stop he’d made in the HSI facility cafeteria for another piece of vital equipment.

Jake guessed that Kane had already figured out the why—and how Jake had traced him.

But there was surprise in his face still, and the reason for the reaction, Heron felt sure, was that the two men were alone. Kane was not in handcuffs, nor was he being read his rights.

What was that about? Where were the real Feds? DHS, HSI, FBI?

The answer was simple. They weren’t invited to the party.

This was between Jake and Kane alone.

Kane blinked again and looked around the cramped room. Then at his restraints. He sat in the desk chair. No official cuffs, but his wrists were firmly zip-tied to the upholstered arms in front of him.

Jake got straight to the most critical matter. “Now, Tristan, you and I could have quite the conversation, and we will, but now? We need to know where Garr and Selina are. And, yes, I know he has her. And that you know where. So. Tell me.”

Kane looked him over with a half smile on his thin, pale lips. “Say, Jake, you working on that guilt about murdering those people in Chicago? You dream about body parts? It was quite the bomb, you know.”