The mapped area was massive, and gridded red lines showed all the twenty-six square miles of woodland that had been systematically searched by ground teams and body dogs. Helicopters had flown over the area using heat-seeking and other high-tech equipment, but every effort to find any trace of Mandy had proved fruitless. The search had been a massive operation lasting months, with the assistance of the Marines and the Sheriff ’s office plus a multitude of local residents.
Anna next opened out a large street map that was marked in different colours showing the two routes that Mandy was known to regularly use between the shopping mall and her home on Hallard Drive. One route went right past the church where she sang in the choir. Also ringed on the street map were all the local areas, including drains and wasteland, that had been searched, and where house-to-house enquiries had been made.
Anna was about to read the statements of Mandy’s mother and father when she glanced at her watch and saw that it was already six p.m., and so she decided she would get ready for dinner with Don and read the rest later. The cold case excited Anna, not so much the fact that a young innocent girl had gone missing and most probably been murdered, but the thought that maybe, just maybe, she could find a line of enquiry that had not yet been considered.
Meanwhile, Langton had been flown to Miami in a small private FBI jet. For security reasons, the exact destination was undisclosed, even to him, and he was only told that on arrival he would be taken to a marina where a yacht was waiting to take him to a secure observation point for suspect surveillance. Although frustrated at the lack of information, he thought that the FBI had good reason to be wary as Fitzpatrick was known to have corrupt politicians and police officers on his payroll.
On reaching the marina, he was surprised by what he saw. Moored there was a large motor yacht with a sleek black V-shaped hull, the sporting lines of a luxury speed boat and a black half-dome roof that allowed you to see out but not in. The FBI agent accompanying Langton told him that the 100-foot vessel was an Italian-built Mirage Argonaut and one of the fastest super-yachts in the world. Langton asked what it was worth, at which the agent laughed and said in the region of ten million dollars but it didn’t cost the FBI a penny, as it was a seized asset from a Columbian drugs lord. As he walked up the gangplank onto the main deck, Langton was struck by the sheer opulence in front of him. A large Jacuzzi was by the stern, surrounded by white leather sofas and armchairs. To one side there was an Art Deco crystal dining table with ten matching crystal chairs and a large, circular fully stocked bar.
On leaving the main deck and entering the residential area, Langton’s illusions of further grandeur were shattered. The luxury interior had been stripped bare and replaced with high-tech surveillance equipment and computers, which were manned by FBI agents. The man accompanying him explained to him that the exterior was a façade and most of the luxury sleeping quarters had been turned into offices and a conference room, and the six permanent onboard agents shared the crew’s quarters at the stern.
Langton was taken to the conference room, which from its size and remaining decorations he surmised had previously been the master cabin. It had an array of LCD screens, satellite maps and PowerPoint projection equipment. The room was filled with agents and an FBI SWAT team dressed in military-style fatigues, Kevlar helmets, bulletproof vests and carrying submachine guns as well as side arms and stun grenades. Compared to what he had been used to, Langton felt as if he was going to bump into To m Cruise and the cameras would roll for a Mission Impossible sequel. Despite himself he couldn’t help but be impressed.
The director of the FBI’s Drugs Enforcement Team, Jack Deans, introduced himself and welcomed Langton on board and introduced him to the assembled agents as a detective chief superintendent in the Met who was after Fitzpatrick for multiple murders in the UK. Deans made it clear from the outset that Fitzpatrick was a ruthless killer who would see the death of an FBI agent as another trophy on his mantelpiece. Langton realized that Deans was in effect telling his men that the object of the exercise was safety first and thereby giving them authority to shoot to kill.
Deans went on to say he had received information from a seasoned undercover agent that Fitzpatrick might be using the alias of Roger Layman. ‘Layman,’ he said, was trying to off-load a large shipment of a new designer drug that contained, amongst other ingredients, a high dose of fentanyl. Deans then related how Fitzpatrick had tried, unsuccessfully thanks to Langton, to flood the UK drugs market with fentanyl and although he had lain low for two years, he was still believed to be the most powerful drug lord associated with the distribution of that particular substance or any of its derivatives.
Deans informed the room that the name Roger Layman had recently been used to rent a three-million-dollar, Tuscan-style villa in an opulent waterfront community on Tropic Isle by Delray Beach, fifty-six miles north of their current position. The villa was on a canal inlet, which allowed direct access to an Intracoastal Waterway that provided a 3,000-mile navigable route between the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. Deans said it was believed that Fitzpatrick would be coming into Delray by boat the following day and that once moored at the villa’s private jetty he was in effect a rat in a trap. There would be no way out as Navy gunships were to be called in to block off his escape via the waterways and the SWAT teams would approach from both the front and rear.
Deans brought up the most recent photograph they had of Fitzpatrick and Langton could see that it was one that had been forwarded to the FBI by the Met two years ago. It was a poor-quality CCTV shot taken when Fitzpatrick had entered an accountant’s office in London and murdered a man by injecting him with a lethal overdose of fentanyl. Dean brought up an e-fit picture alongside the first and Langton recognized it as one that he had helped to compile. Langton knew that he had only been able to do so because Fitzpatrick had duped him into believing he was a senior FBI agent and they had sat and talked with each other for nearly half an hour.
Langton was aware of a feverish heat taking hold of him, which happened every time he thought about how foolish he had felt after realizing the man he had hunted for so long had audaciously sat with him in the station. He wondered if Walters had informed Jack Deans about the incident but realized he hadn’t when Deans commented that the image demonstrated remarkable facial recall since Langton had only seen Fitzpatrick when chasing him in a car as the man was taking off in a plane. As was the FBI way, a chorus of clapped approval followed, to which Langton nodded his thanks and smiled, inwardly grateful that the truth had not come out.
Dean continued that Fitzpatrick was a master of disguise and had previously undergone plastic surgery and had his fingertips burnt with lasers to avoid detection. He then asked Langton if there was anything he’d like to add and Langton said only to agree with Director Deans and reiterate how dangerous a man Fitzpatrick was.
Deans pressed a control panel on the table in front of him and all the LCD screens in the room lit up, showing live feeds of the interior and exterior of the waterside villa. Listening devices and pin eye cameras had been secreted in the villa and the resulting pictures were transmitted onto the LCD screens. A real-time aerial satellite picture appeared on the large screen behind Deans, who used a laser pointer to indicate all the FBI surveillance positions. The only people known to be in the villa were a young boy and a Hispanic woman in her fifties, though they were currently out shopping in a black Lexus 4 × 4. The boy was believed to be between thirteen and fifteen years old, with an American accent, and the Hispanic woman was thought to be the housekeeper.