“It’s an easel,” Stone said. “Look, he’s setting it up.”
“He’s going to paint?” Plumber asked.
“Looks like it,” Carpenter replied.
Morgan set up a camp stool, opened what looked like a toolbox, and placed a canvas on the easel.
“He’s going to paint the sunset,” Plumber said.
“I’ve got trouble here,” the tech said suddenly, pointing to the screen before him. “Carroll is approaching a roundabout, and so are some other bikes.” They watched as B moved into the roundabout, merging with half a dozen other bicycles. Then they began exiting.
“Which one is she?” Carpenter demanded.
“You got me,” the tech replied. “There are two roads off the roundabout, and we’ve got two bikes on one and four on the other. We can’t track them all.”
“It’s B, Carroll,” Carpenter said. “Use both views to track the cyclists, until we can identify her. Morgan’s going to be there awhile; we’ll let him be. It’s Carroll, I know it.”
Stone watched as both screens began displaying cyclists on country roads. His last view of Morgan was of the man painting away.
54
THEY SPLIT INTO TWO GROUPS, EACH watching the cyclists. “There,” Stone said. “The saddlebags; there’s only one bike with large saddlebags.”
“You’re right,” Carpenter said. “And none of the other bikes has saddlebags at all. That’s Carroll!”
Then the bicycle with the large saddlebags split off from the other three and turned onto a dirt lane.
“Okay,” Carpenter said to the tech, “follow her, ignore the others, and let’s get Morgan back on the other screen.”
The tech got the bicycle in his sights. “It’s going to be easier now, since she’s on that little lane.”
“Show me Morgan,” Carpenter said.
The tech tapped more keys, and the image popped back onto the second screen.
“Where is he?” Carpenter asked.
“Let me pan around,” the tech replied.
“It’s the same spot,” Stone said, “but Morgan’s car isn’t there; he’s gone.”
“Find that car,” Carpenter said, “and be quick about it.”
“It’s not so easy,” the tech said. “It’s one thing to track the A car when you’ve got him in your sights, but finding him in a landscape is going to be nearly impossible.”
“I don’t care, do it!”
Stone watched the lone cyclist as she pedaled down the little lane. “Anybody got a map of the area?” he asked.
“Here,” Plumber replied, spreading a large-scale map of the area on a table. “She came up here from her house to the roundabout,” he said, pointing, “and then she left it here.” He ran his finger up the road. “She exited the paved road here, and she’s going up this lane.”
“What’s this?” Stone asked, pointing to a green area up the lane.
“It’s a copse of trees, with a clearing in the middle.”
“Look at this,” Carpenter said, pointing at the trees.
Carroll had cycled into the clearing, and a car was waiting for her. A man got out.