“Okay. Just let Agent Lopez or me know the minute Sully leaves again. Good job, and hang in there. Your relief will be bringing breakfast, I hope.”

  Lee sat down to work on a plan to finally snare Glover. With the recovery of Tim Klein no longer an issue, Lee suspected that their additional manpower support was going to dry up pretty soon, especially with two officers assigned to guard the Kleins twenty-four/seven. With no physical evidence yet that he was the kidnapper, they would have to fall back, for the moment, to establishing charges of extortion. To find out whom Glover had corrupted, therefore, they had to find a way to make Glover reveal where he was keeping his blackmail material.

  Lee opened up the laptop, accessed the secure Internet site containing their case files, then realized he’d just stumbled on the answer. He now had a good idea where Glover was keeping his stuff. He couldn’t recall seeing a set-up computer at Glover’s house, but he’d seen a scanner, and that implied the presence of a computer. Maybe, like them, the man had a laptop hidden on the property. That was all Glover would need to digitize extortion material and hide it electronically.

  I agree that Glover might have uploaded all the blackmail material he has onto a private website—like we’ve done with our reports and materials for this investigation—but how do we get to it?” Diane asked.

  “Though the Bureau hasn’t managed to get a closer look at Glover’s background, it may include training and experience with computers. If I’m right, that’s going to make things tougher. We already know he’s fond of using photographs to gain leverage. The Bureau has managed to identify most of the people in those sex photos you discovered taped to Glover’s closet door. None of the individuals are married to the other person in the photo. The guy with the two young women, for example, is the chief at the closest fire station,” Lee noted.

  “The blackmail photos are what keeps them from turning on him,” she answered. “So again, how do we get to the originals and the rest of the images we haven’t seen yet?”

  “If we get a chance to examine his computer—probably a high-end laptop—we could have a tech search his software and see which sites he’s accessed. Or maybe we can find out how he pays for the service that provides the site.”

  “Most providers require a credit card, cash transfer, or check. If we can find that trail, there are ways to cut off his access—like changing the passwords. If he can’t use the blackmail material, his hold over his victims is lost.”

  “Not necessarily. As long as they believe he can blackmail them, Glover’s still in charge. We need to find his stash, then get somebody to stand up to him and force Glover to prove he can still ruin them—in other words, drive Glover to the material. Glover must also have hard copies somewhere, probably on CDs. They would be a lot easier to store and hide than stacks of photos, tapes, and such.”

  “We take them away and Glover’s empty-handed,” Diane added with a nod. “So what we have to do is block his access to his Internet storage area, force him into a position to put up or shut up, then nail him with the hard copies.”

  “I’m assuming Glover has wireless, so let’s make some calls and see what we get. There are only a few services available in this area. Can the Bureau get that info?”

  “Yeah. There are several protocols already in place. The local office has eavesdropped on wireless activity in Albuquerque during some high-level DOD and DOE investigations. If the provider won’t cooperate, we have equipment that allows us to get around protection systems and even record passwords and keystrokes.”

  “Can you make the necessary calls?”

  Diane nodded. “And you’ll want to start priming the pump with Sully, the guy we know for sure is linked to Glover. I suppose you want to use what we have on him already.”

  “I also want to get some help following Glover while we still have the attention of the right agencies. We’re going to have to take some trips.”

  Glover was still at home, taking an occasional peek through his curtains, when two big, hard-driven pickups pulled up outside, diesel engines rattling. Lee had heard them coming almost from the highway.

  Stepping out onto the front porch, Lee nodded and yelled. “Hey, bro. Glad you could make it. Park over there.” He pointed to the curved, west end of the street, knowing that otherwise the pickups would screen out the view of Glover’s house, something he wanted to avoid.

  Lee nodded in greeting as four men, two of them approaching the average college linebacker in size and physical stature, exited the two vehicles. All were wearing hunter’s vests or jackets bulging with obvious ammo boxes, jeans, and work boots and carrying hunting rifles or shotguns. Two of the men were carrying belt holders with large, lockback folding knives. To most New Mexicans, it was a group of good ole boys about to go hunting.

  Lee pointed directly toward Glover, who was standing beside the window, almost out of view, and the men nodded or otherwise indicated they saw the man. The two biggest guys stood there, holding their weapons loosely in their arms, while the others carried fiberglass gun cases into the house. Diane opened the door each time and greeted the men warmly, as if they were old friends.

  Soon, all but one of the men were in the living room. The fourth was outside, standing between the trucks, his rifle across the hood of the rear vehicle within easy reach, watching Glover’s property.

  “Think we got his attention?” The speaker was nearly bald, his hair shaved close, and he had no neck atop shoulders as wide as the doorway. “I’m Sergeant Allen, ma’am. Call me Jack. Officer Hawk knows me from the Las Cruces district.” Jack nodded to Lee, who was helping the other two men unpack their electronic gear from the gun cases. “Gonzales is the officer keeping an eye on our target.”

  Diane shook his hand, which dwarfed her own fingers. “Glad to meet you, Jack. Glover’s a bully, but I think you fellows got his heart thumping when you pulled up. Glad to have more state policemen on hand to help us nail this guy. Glover’s a treacherous bastard.”

  “I understand he gained entry last night and positioned a crude bomb, Agent Lopez,” another man, smaller than Jack Allen by a hundred pounds, said as he brought a large laptop computer out of a case.

  “This is Richie Brock, Lee, one of the Bureau’s technical experts. He and Hal,” Diane nodded toward the man unpacking a small antennalike device, “will be tapping into Glover’s cell phone calls and computer activities. Right, guys?”

  Richie, who was clearing space on the dining table for the laptop, nodded. “We’ve already identified his local provider and account and all the necessary warrants have been issued to get full cooperation from the phone company and his cell phone carrier. Even if he tries to route his communications through a supposedly secure network or cloned phone, we’ll pick it up from here. Everything he sends or receives on a computer will be mirrored and saved to the hard drive, or relayed to us by his ISP carrier if he uses the laptop from another location.”

  “And while these boys are busy peeking in his electronic closet, Gonzo and I will handle the rough stuff,” Jack said, then grinned. Beneath that leather jacket was a knit sweater like the one worn by commandos and below that the faint outline of a bulletproof vest. Lee knew Jack from a couple of incidents where shootings had taken place, and the man had been fearless and competent, a good combination when backup was required.

  “You want us to place a GPS on the pickup?” Hal asked. The young man, a field agent with the Bureau before switching to technical work for the FBI, had experience with computer fraud and crimes committed via the Internet. Diane had told Lee about him earlier. With Hal on the job, no firewall or computer security was good enough. The NSA had actually recruited him first, but Hal had chosen the Bureau.

  “Glover sweeps for bugs every morning before he drives away. An old habit from his days doing black bag work for the army overseas, I guess,” Lee pointed out.

  “Ah, but I’ve got a state-of-the-art unit here that’ll evade any sensor he could get his hands on. It’ll pick up a sweep and automatically shut itself down,” Richie said.

  “He also does a quick visual. What if he sees the unit? We don’t want him to guess who we are and shut down,” Diane pointed out.

  Hal held up a small plastic bag with something inside that looked like a splatter of mud. “Attach this on the bumper or other likely spot with some of our instant stickum and he’ll never know. We can even change the color of the mud to match this location. Spray on a little glue, sprinkle it with dust from outside, and we have instant, authentic-looking mud.”

  “The only way we’d get caught is if the guy is a clean freak,” Richie said. “Come to think of it, I notice the pickup looks freshly washed.”

  “The wash job came after some recent repairs he had done on the vehicle,” Diane pointed out. “It was pretty dirty before he lost the windshield, right, Lee?”

  “Yeah. We can use the bug, but we’re going to have to wait until dark to place it. Glover isn’t going to take his eyes off us for a while,” he replied. Lee glanced at Diane. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded. “Make yourself at home, guys. Food’s in the fridge. But don’t get complacent. Glover might just start throwing grenades or reveal some real firepower we don’t know about. He’s got to believe now that his life is on the line. And he’s proactive, if you get my drift.”

  “We’ll be ready.” Jack nodded and turned toward the two men at the laptop. Richie gave her a thumbs-up, and Hal motioned toward the butt of the pistol extending a few inches out of his jacket pocket.

  Lee put on his cap, gloves, and sunglasses, made sure his cell phone, pistol, and extra ammo were in his pockets or at his belt, then stepped outside, Diane just a few steps behind. They climbed into the SUV and drove down the street. One of the neighbors was on his front porch, cell phone in hand, looking up in the direction of their house, an anxious look on his face. His wife was staring out the window, a baby in her arms.

  “Stop a second, Lee,” Diane said. “We’ve got to warn these people to stay inside and out of sight.”

  Lee pulled to a stop as Diane rolled down her window. The man with the phone took a few steps toward them. “What’s going on up there?” he shouted. “Looks like everyone’s carrying a gun.”

  “It’s Glover, causing trouble again. Please keep your family inside, or leave the area, sir. And if you know any of your neighbors, give them a call and warn them to stay away from our end of the street.”

  “Shouldn’t we just call the sheriff?”

  “How’s that worked before, sir?” Diane asked.

  “You’re right. I’ll warn the rest of the people around here. Glover deserves whatever he gets.”

  “He’s crossed the line for the last time, sir. Just stay in the house or take a drive into the city—now. Okay?” Diane looked over at Lee, who nodded.

  “Good luck. Glover’s a dangerous bastard.” The man waved, then motioned to the woman with the baby, who’d come to the door. He went inside and shut the door.

  Two minutes later they were driving south down the highway, and a half hour later met with Officer Rodriguez, who was back on station near Sully’s cabin, monitoring his activities. “Sully’s still at home. Hasn’t come out since I took over for Bill,” Felix reported. “You want me to go in with you?”

  “No, but thanks for getting us that loaner car. It’ll help bring Sully outside in a hurry. When we start leaning on him, he’s going to get angry. At this point, we don’t really know if he’ll get violent or just try to run away,” Lee said.

  “Here are the keys.” Rodriguez handed them to Diane, who’d already put on her Katie wig. Diane walked over to the yellow VW, the same model and color as the one driven by the underage hooker, and climbed inside. Lee returned to the SUV.

  His cell phone vibrated. “I’m ready. Stay on the line,” Diane said. Lee nodded to Felix. “Here we go.”

  “Good luck,” Rodriguez offered.

  Diane pulled up in the parking area beside Sully’s mountain residence, noting the dusty Camry beside the screened-in front porch. She and Lee had worked this out already. Sully would see the car and at his distance would have no reason to believe it wasn’t Katie. The sight of her coming to his house would certainly bring him outside. She wasn’t even supposed to know where he lived.

  Diane honked the horn, though she’d already noticed someone inside. Sully stepped out onto the top step. He couldn’t have failed to hear the vehicle coming—it was so quiet out here, especially today.

  She stuck out her arm and waved, honking again.

  “What are you doing here?” Sully called out, hurrying around to her door. She’d parked with the passenger side facing the house so he couldn’t get a better look.

  “You’re not …”

  “Katie? No, Mr. Sully. But Katie sent me. I have a message for you about tonight.” Diane got out of the car, watching for signs that Sully might want to run for it or get violent. He was anxious, looking around for Glover, maybe.

  “Nobody’s going to see us here, Mr. Sully. We need to talk. Can we go inside?” Diane was dressed in clothes as close as she could find to what Katie had worn. Tight, revealing—actually similar to what she’d picked for her current identity. Something to get the wrong kind of attention.

  Sully looked her over—checked out her breasts and hips, actually. “How did you find me? I didn’t tell anyone where I lived.”

  From his tone and the step back he just took, the pervert was disappointed, seeing she looked thirty and wasn’t built like a child. “Another client of Katie’s told her where you lived, and Katie told me. Are you disappointed that I don’t look like some schoolgirl?”

  Lee was approaching from behind, doing his silent vampire thing, but he was still twenty feet away and Sully looked more worried than ever. He looked away from her toward the road again. All she needed was to hold Sully’s attention a few more seconds. “I think I can get you a boy for your movie,” she lied. “Not the one you’ve been counting on, but there won’t be any risks, either.”

  His eyebrows went up and he was suddenly all ears, as well. “This have anything to do with Glover?”

  “Yeah, in a way,” Lee said, putting his hand on Sully’s arm.

  Sully jumped out of his skin, then tried to pull away, but Lee had him firmly. “Let me go. What’s going on? Did Glover send you here to threaten me?”

  “Not at all, Sully,” Diane explained. “Calm down. We all know Glover is a rat bastard, we followed him a few days ago and found where he was hiding the Klein kid. When Glover left, we snatched the boy and dropped him off at home. We saw his parents split with him a while later. You wanna guess what the boy had to tell us about all this? He doesn’t know who grabbed him. And that puts you at the top of the list.”

  Sully’s faced blanched. “I didn’t kidnap him. It was Glover.”

  Diane shrugged. “Think that’s gonna hold up in court after you see what else Glover has on you now? It’s time for show-and-tell. There’s a movie Glover made of you and Katie the other night—while you were making your own little kinky movie. We’ve got control of it now, and if you don’t want to see your face and Katie’s on the Internet tonight, you’ll cooperate.”

  Sully looked defeated, but he refused to make eye contact. “Blackmail—first that bastard, now you two. I’m going broke. How much money do you want?”

  “We don’t want money, Sully. We want Glover. If you help us, we’ll help you,” Lee said, urging Sully toward the porch, but not letting go of his arm.

  Sully cleared his throat, no longer resisting, and walked up the steps with Lee. “You sure don’t look like cops.”

  “Did we say we were cops?” Diane snapped.

  “We just want Glover. It’s personal,” Lee added. “Maybe he told you about us. We happen to be his next-door neighbors. So far he’s tried window peeping, intimidation, gunfire, and last night, a bomb. All this because we pissed him off. Glover’s a walking dead man, and we just want to make sure he sees it coming,” Lee said, hoping he didn’t sound too Bruce Willis—or was it Dirty Harry?

  “Glover is too smart to mess around with. If you want to kill him, better get yourself a gun, and some help,” Sully replied. “I’d rather lose my money than my life.”

  “Did you know that Katie’s only fifteen?” Diane said. “Glover has connections with the sheriff’s department. If we hadn’t liberated the CD of you and Katie, he’d have you by the balls major-league. You wanna live in fear at the state prison, trying to keep a couple thousand inmates from raping and shanking you, a suspected kidnapper and convicted child molester?”

  They walked into Sully’s living room. It had a homey-looking southwestern-theme decor with soft leather furniture, colorful Navajo rugs, and tasteful landscape photos of the Sandias and Manzanos. In the background, coming from the direction of the floor, was the faint hum of a motor, perhaps the generator.

  “You’re lying. There was no camera there except for my own, and Katie swore she was legal. I understand you wanting to get back at Glover, but I’d be stupid to help you.”

  “Wait a minute,” Lee said slowly. “Of course! Glover must have something on you already, or you wouldn’t be loaning him your Jeep, or groveling like you do.”

  “Yeah, we know about the Jeep. It’s been across the street for a few days now, until last night when one of your station employees brought it back,” Diane said. “You’ve got a DVD player, right?” She walked over to an antiqued wall cabinet with a tasteful Kachina-type figure on the door. She opened it up. Inside was a large disc player, VCR, and twenty-inch TV combo.

  “Where’s your generator?” Diane asked.

  “It’s on. Hear the motor?”

  “If you say so.” She reached over and found the remote. In a few seconds, she’d turned on the monitor and the disc player.

  “Sit down, Sully,” Lee suggested, “and I’ll let go of your arm. Just don’t try anything stupid, or you’re going to be suffering an incredible amount of physical pain.”