Free The Tangled Webb by D. P. Schroeder Page B

them into a software program she had written last night in a sleepless stupor. Videos were extracted that corresponded to the dates and times when the mystery man had made his withdrawals at the bank.
    The time in Georgetown was nearing five o’clock in the morning, and somehow James had been able to get some desperately needed sleep. Hearing the email tone on Kate’s laptop, they both sat up and got in front of her laptop. Looking at the email attachments, they saw images of a man on the screen. He appeared to be in his seventies.
    James put on a pot of coffee before rejoining Kate on the sofa.
    “This is the best it’s going to get,” she said. “I sorted through the footage, made the conversion into photographs and enhanced the ones with the best camera angles.”
    A second attachment had footage of the man walking by two surveillance cameras. Looking at the videos, both of them noticed a slight limp in his stride.
    “I’d say he’s in his mid-seventies, give or take,” James said.
    She played the videos again.
    “That seems about right.”
    James detected a presumption in the man’s carriage: it was unmistakable, like someone who had at one time held a position of high authority. Kate opened the file with the photos and brought up the clearest one, which filled the whole screen. They studied him; about six feet tall, white, a slender but robust physique for a man of this age, and his eyes—they suggested an alert mind.
    James got two cups of coffee from the kitchen, put them on the table and leaned over Kate’s shoulder to inspect the photo again.
    “So, this is the next piece of the puzzle.”
    “What now?”
    “The rest we’ll have to get from Specter.” As he turned to Kate, he saw a look of concern. “What?”
    “Back to New York?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “Come on, James. Alec Specter’s life has been turned inside out in the past twenty-four hours. All the probing and investigating, he’s bound to know something’s up.”
    Judging by the look on his face, he didn’t like the idea either.
    “We have to stop the flow of money to the assassins, and find this guy before he kills us. Specter’s the only way to track him down,” he said, pointing to the man on the laptop.
    Kate grimaced.
    It’s moments like this that make me queasy. I know he’s right, but his compulsive attraction to danger is unsettling. I fell in love with a risk junkie.

CHAPTER 19
    J ames and Kate rode the fast train to Manhattan as their laptops and secure phones buzzed with activity, and farms in Maryland and the Chesapeake Bay rolled past the window. After the meals were served, James went over the game plan once more.
    As they hopped from the train at Penn Station, Kate observed the mass of humanity on the station platform.
    This place is a zoo!
    The cab driver weaved through the city’s mid-day traffic, covered twenty blocks and dropping the couple at the corner of Park Avenue and East 54th Street. Looking up, a gleaming- bronze office tower soared into a clear blue sky. On two of the uppermost floors were the offices of the notorious law firm.
    Wolfe & Hunt
    This must be where all the stealing is done, thought Kate. Noticing a café down the street, they entered the eatery, slid into a booth in the back and set their backpacks full of gear on the floor. A waitress appeared, jotted requests for sandwiches and drinks on a pad, then turned her attention to other duties. After finishing the meal and leaving the café, they moved through the city, purchasing supplies and provisions for the operation.
    Two hours later Kate received a call from one of the more aggressive private investigators with whom they were working. He went on to tell her about how he had planted an electronic listening device the night before—directly under the nose of Specter’s personal assistant. The P.I. told her of the assistant making a dinner reservation at seven o’clock this evening for Specter and an unknown companion. The