Page 54 of Bishop's Flight
“Yes.” Miguel’s voice was nearly vibrating. “And you can get his phone number?”
Brigid and Carwyn kept their distance so they didn’t disturb the flow.
“Miguel, my friend, I will have this guy’s shoe size, social media handles, and kindergarten report card in a few minutes.” Lee typed with lightning-fast speed. “How many names does that make for the list?”
“Five confirmed with real names and IDs.”
“Cool.”
Brigid glanced at Carwyn and shook her head. “Care to fill us in?”
Miguel lifted a small notebook she’d seen sticking out of his jacket pocket the past few nights. “Lee’s found the kid’s online friends, and at least three of them were not who they were pretending to be online. I’m waiting for this last name; then I’m tracking these lowlifes down.”
“Lowlifes?” Carwyn asked.
“Most of the accounts belong to middle-aged men,” Lee said. “One woman. The majority of them don’t seem creepy; they just like acting immature online. But there are three who asked a lot of personal questions about Lucas. They could be working for Zasha.”
“And if they’re working for Zasha,” Brigid said, “they might have a clue where Lucas is being kept.” She patted Lee’s shoulder. “Good thinking.”
“They’re keeping the kid somewhere during the day,” Lee muttered, still typing. “Someone is going out to get newspapers and food and stuff for the kid to keep him happy. A hundred bucks says the errand runner is not Zasha Sokholov.”
“I won’t take that bet.” Brigid pointed to the third screen. “What’s the craic with this?”
“I have a program with pictures of the missing cars running over the downloaded footage that I’ve been able to access from traffic cams in the city. I’m getting a few hits, and as soon as I’m done with this, I’ll start going through them.” He turned to Miguel. “You ready for Wyvern24?”
“Hit me.”
“Name is Clarence Johnson, forty-five years old, grew up right here in Las Vegas, Nevada. Used-boat salesman. I’m not going to lie, he does not strike me as a typical gamer, so this one may be your guy.” The picture from the Nevada DMV showed a White man with an angular jaw wearing a blue polo shirt. He had a receding hairline, silver stubble, and a face that looked overly familiar with tanning beds. “I’ll email you his address.”
“Got it.” Miguel tucked the notebook in his pocket. “I’m heading out; the rest of the detail will stick with the house for now.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Brigid said. “Agnes and Rose made a deal with the Russian.”
“That may be,” Miguel said, “but until I get word directly from them, the other guys are staying.” He clapped Lee on the shoulder. “Lee, my man, I’ll give you a call if I need something else.”
“You got it, man. I’ll be looking into financials for all these guys while you pay them a visit.”
Carwyn stopped Miguel before he left. “You’re not going alone, are you?”
“Don’t worry; I’ll take some backup, but I don’t want to take a whole team. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“You have five names there,” Brigid said. “Why don’t we take two of them? Bernard is trying to track down Preston’s secretary. We have time.”
Miguel walked over and tore off two pages. “You take these two; I’ll jump on the other three.” He glanced at Brigid. “You and the big guy have a driver?”
“Sure do.” Brigid looked at the names. “Jessica Mathis and Wayne Song?”
Lee piped up. “I’ll email both of you the entire list. Also, our boy was a pretty badass chess player, and he did not lose often.”
Miguel waved his notebook. “I’m heading out to get a jump on these. Lee, keep me updated if you find anything else.”
Brigid waved at the man before she walked over to Lee’s desk. “What does that mean?”
“I kind of doubt it’s related, but Lucas was playing in tournaments. Online chess tournaments. He was also betting on himself.” Lee tapped the right side of the screen. “That’s his account balance.”
Brigid’s eyes went wide. “That’s over ten grand.”
“Not bad for a fifteen-year-old kid.” Lee clicked to a list of Lucas’s matches. “He started about six months ago. He was playing in the online tournaments, but it looks like Wyvern24—that’s the last name I gave to Miguel just now—turned him on to this site.” Lee brought up another dashboard where numbers were updating in front of their eyes. “This is the betting arm of the tournament site. Technically you have to be eighteen to get in, but Lucas must have had a fake ID or something to tell them he was of age.”
