“I DON’T GET IT,” Windermere said. “So the girl’s still not talking? What did we accomplish here, Stevens?”
Stevens watched the electronic floor numbers flash by above him as the elevator climbed. “She’s staying put,” he said. “Nancy’s moving her to a halfway house under U.S. Marshal supervision, and in return, she promised not to flee the country or go underground.”
“Yeah, but she’s not talking,” Windermere said. “So what?”
“So she’s still here, I guess,” Stevens said. “We can keep working on Irina while we search for Catalina. And in the meantime, the Dragon doesn’t kill her.”
“Great.” Windermere rolled her eyes. “This sounds like a really good deal for Irina Milosovici, Stevens. But it doesn’t do jack shit for us. How are we going to save this girl’s sister if she won’t help us?”
Stevens leaned against the wall. “Yeah,” he said. “When you put it that way.”
“It sounds pretty damn slim, doesn’t it?” she said. “We need something better.”
The elevator doors slid open. Stevens and Windermere walked out into the FBI’s Criminal Investigative bullpen and across to Mathers’s cubicle, where the junior agent was just hanging up his phone.
“Where do we stand with Interpol?” Windermere asked him. “Stevens here just undid the damage you caused with Irina and bought us a little time, Derek, but we need leads to work with. So I hope that was a long-distance call.”
Mathers scribbled something on a notepad. “It was a long-distance call,” he said. “But not to where you’re thinking. Agent LePlavy and I are still tag-teaming with Interpol and the Financial Crimes guys. In the meantime, maybe you can do something with this.”
He handed her the notepad. Windermere took it. “What is it?”
“Anonymous tip made to the field office in Billings, Montana,” Mathers said. “Guess someone called in, said they saw those sketches we sent out of Irina’s bad guys.”
Stevens felt his heart syncopate. “They made the drivers.”
“That’s right,” Mathers said. “The scar-faced thug and his buddy both. The tipster said both guys came into his restaurant, parked their big truck in his lot. Said they had heavy accents and they didn’t talk much, but they ate sandwiches and kept checking their watches.” Mathers paused, his smile growing. “Said he overheard something they said just before they paid the bill. Something about needing to go meet the buyer.”
“Billings, Montana,” Windermere said. “That must be where they were headed after Duluth.”
“It’s a straight shot down I-90,” Stevens said. “It makes sense.”
“I’ll say it does.” Windermere grinned at Stevens. “I’ll book us a flight, partner. You go pack another suitcase. We’ll hit Billings tomorrow.”