So that meant the team had brains.
And muscle.
Natasha Garcon, meanwhile, was the face of Global Alliance. Not just in terms of beauty. According to her dossier, Garcon was a linguist beyond compare, a prodigy who was speaking a half-dozen languages by first grade and three dozen by high school. Beyond mere translation, she understood the culture and idioms of dozens of nations, as well as states within those nations. If there was a division of law enforcement, foreign government, or intelligence operation to be dealt with, Garcon was first on the scene, clearing the path for the others. Blair had also named her team leader for this mission.
Many years ago, Dark had more or less begged for a chance to join Special Circs. He wanted to be part of Tom Riggins’s team more than he’d wanted anything else in the world . . . before he lost himself in it, and ended up losing everything he’d ever loved in the world.
As he sat down, strapped himself in, and looked around at this new “team,” Dark couldn’t help but wonder if he was about to repeat that mistake.
chapter 20
DARK
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
C
ommercial flight time from Paris to Dubai can be as swift as seven hours, depending on weather and airport conditions. The weather out of France was horrible, but still Blair’s private Gulfstream made it in just under four. A waiting van whisked the team directly from the plane to Dubai Police HQ, where Natasha Garcon spoke to the department chief. Within minutes they were led directly to the evidence room, the fish tank, and the gold wristwatch.
While O’Brian and Roeding seemed transfixed by the creepy-looking fish, Dark put on rubber gloves and examined the watch. Like the sketch of Bethany Millar, this watch was most likely a stolen object of a personal nature. The meaning wasn’t in the craftsmanship or the material; the important thing seemed to be that it was given as a gift, back in the 1940s, to an oil executive.
Dark noticed the second hand was moving slower, and slower, and slower, like a dying insect. Eventually, it would grind to a halt.
At which point Labyrinth would kill his next victim.
Blair had arranged for a retired watchmaker to be hastily flown in from nearby Abu Dhabi, and he examined the watch under an X-ray machine. The watch was indeed slowing down. And if his calculations were correct, there was one hour, maybe less, until it stopped completely.
Dark began to build the profile in his head. This was a pattern killer: two separate scenarios, two different parts of the world, but they still fit a pattern. Each time, Labyrinth had sent a riddle, a timepiece of some kind, and a stolen object. The timepiece told them how much time they had left to figure out the puzzle; but what did the riddle and the stolen object point to? The victim? Dark thought about the victims in Malibu. The actress and her producer boyfriend, completely unaware they shared a bloodline. The nude sketch was what had pointed to their identities. The who. But how did the riddle fit in?
The second hand, slowing down even more . . .
Labyrinth was saying:
I have all of the pieces. I’m so brilliant, I’ll even share them with you—tip you off early. But I still think you won’t be able to catch me, because I’m smarter than you all.
Dark knew that this arrogance would be Labyrinth’s undoing. Even the most brilliant sociopaths can’t keep up the cat-and-mouse game forever. Being caught is part of the thrill, in some sick way.
But how many victims would Labyrinth rack up before then?
chapter 21
DARK
T
he fish pissed off Deckland O’Brian.
Big-time. The Irishman hated not having the answer to something
immediately
. O’Brian plugged his tablet computer into the police Internet and started a mad search for the origins of this fish. Within minutes, he had an ichthyologist examining the specimen by Skype, and tentatively identifying it as a “tecopa pupfish.” The strange thing was not that the fish was halfway around the world. The strange thing was that it existed at all. According to the ichthyologist, the United States Fish and Wildlife Service had declared it extinct thirty years prior—it was one of the first to be included on the then-new endangered species list. Yet here it was, swimming around the tank. The fish guy begged them for the chance to examine it in person, saying that he could be there the very next day, if they could just . . .
“Yeah, yeah,” O’Brian said. “Thanks, buddy.”
Extinct
was a government term, nothing more. Just because a government labels something extinct doesn’t mean it has absolutely, positively disappeared from the surface of the earth. There were black markets for exotic animals, and of course, O’Brian knew how to tap right in to their (allegedly secret) message boards.
“If Labyrinth purchased this little guy,” O’Brian said, “somebody
else
had to own him first.”
Sure. That made logical sense. Still, Dark thought it was looking in the wrong direction. They should be tracing the clues forward to the next victim, not back to something that the killer may have done months ago. Someone’s life was on the line right now. But who?
The clues would tell them.
Maybe . . .
Dark said, “Tell us about this pupfish. Where does it come from?”
O’Brian nodded and tapped the screen in a frenzy.
“Huh. Riddle me this, now. Seems the pupfish were native to your home state. California.” Then O’Brian began to sing, off-key: “I wish they all could be Cal-i-for-nia . . .”
Dark ignored him. The fish was from California—a literal transplant here. Just like American oil executives. The watch told them as much.
“Do we have a list of oil executives here in Dubai?” Dark asked.
Natasha shook her head. “Everyone at Intertrust has been accounted for. There’s nobody missing. It’s one of the first things I checked when we landed.”
“What about the other companies?”
“Oooh yes!” Deckland O’Brian cried, then started tapping his screen furiously. “Good idea, Steve-O. I’m on it.”
Which was when alarms sounded all throughout Dubai Police HQ.
Immediately Natasha Garcon darted into the fray and pulled aside a detective and hurriedly spoke to him in Arabic. The detective was clearly horrified, wearing a stunned look that told Dark the man had never experienced anything quite like this.
“What’s happened?” Dark asked.
“They found a body at a resort on the other side of the city,” Natasha said.
“Where in the resort?”
“Um . . . all over the place.”
Deckland O’Brian looked up from his tablet. “I ran a search, and okay, let the records show that I’m calling this now. I’d bet a thousand quid the victim’s name is going to be Charles Murtha.”
AP (Middle East)
Breaking: Man found dead in luxury resort in Dubai.
chapter 22
DARK
O
n the other side of the city, the river turned to blood.
It was an artificial river in the middle of a luxury resort, built during Dubai’s boom days just a few short years ago. Back then, simulacrum environments were all the rage—for example, ski resorts in the middle of the desert. Here, in this resort, you could sip cocktails by the artificial banks of a faux Amazon river, complete with animatronic wildlife and “authentic” natural sound.
When the blood started to flow, half-drunk guests assumed it was some sort of special effect, meant to commemorate a holiday, or perhaps even promote a new film. That is, until one underage guest saw a dismembered hand floating along the shoulders of the mighty river.
“What the hell . . .”
“OH MY GOD!”
“Is that . . .”
Other body parts soon followed, bobbing along in the foamy, crimson-tinged waters, and the police were quickly summoned.
Some guests had enough wits about them to snap a few photos with their smartphones and upload them to social networking sites. It didn’t take very long for the Internet to make the connection.
Holy shit! Just heard this “Labyrinth” nut case sent a riddle to Dubai!
2 minutes ago
Did he kill someone famous? #labyrinth
2 minutes ago
Seriously, what’s this guy’s deal? Is he flying around the world, using up frequent flyer miles, killing people 4 fun?
1 minute ago
Hope he visits my ex-husband in Miami #labyrinth
1 minute ago
The news was already trending around the world (#labyrinth) by the time Dark and the rest of the team—Global Alliance—arrived at the resort. O’Brian was tracking it from his cell phone.
“I’ve never seen a hashtag so active,” he said excitedly. “People are really jumping on this thing.”
Dark said, “He’s probably watching. Getting off on the attention, the publicity. Is there any way of tracking him through the social network?”
“Are you kidding?” O’Brian asked. “There are going to be millions of people following this stuff.”
“What about tracing it backward? Find out who first started talking about Dubai?”
“Easy enough, but what would that prove?”
“I think he’s the one giving these things a push,” Dark said. “He’s spreading the word like a proud parent.”
Natasha said, “Tweet him later. We’re almost at the scene.”