Less than an hour later, Leila turned onto Kenyon Street, a run-down road in a rough neighbourhood called South Park. She found Pearce near the corner, crouched beside his motorbike. He had the seat off and looked as though he was making repairs. Leila parked behind the R1 and lowered the window as he came over.
‘Fifty metres up, on the right,’ Pearce said. ‘Small wooden house. Green paint.’
Leila glanced along the street. Poverty wasn’t hidden here. It was evident in the old rusty cars, missing roof tiles, broken guttering and overgrown yards. She spotted the house Pearce was referring to – one of the most derelict of all.
‘Got it,’ she said.
‘Our target is inside.’
‘You’re kidding me!’
‘I saw him at the port authority. Walked right past him. He works there,’ Pearce said. ‘His real name is Ziad Malek. He’s a shift supervisor. Replaced the guy who died, Richard Cutter.’
‘You think they killed Cutter? Why would anyone murder someone to get a job like that?’ Leila asked.
‘He’s in there with the getaway driver from the prison break.’
‘We should bring them in,’ Leila said, suddenly thinking about her own sister. If the man they were looking for was in that house, her work was done. They could apprehend him and extract whatever information Blaine Carter needed.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Pearce replied. ‘If we bring them in, who knows what we’ll get? But we can be certain that any network around them will pack up and disappear. If we keep them in play, we might get to whoever’s pulling the strings.’
Leila felt her stomach tighten with frustration. ‘We should take them now. There’s no guarantee anyone else is involved.’ Her words carried no conviction. Leila knew Pearce was right, that there were others, not least the man who’d broken out of Al Aqarab with Ziad Malek, but she was desperate to get on her sister’s trail.
‘Any sign of the other escapee?’ she asked.
Pearce shook his head. ‘We need to stay on these two until we know more.’
Leila nodded grudgingly.
‘Have you got any gear with you?’
Pearce was referring to the equipment that had been in the flight cases Robert Clifton had delivered to their unusual apartment.
‘Just a basic kit,’ Leila replied. ‘A couple of cameras, trackers and bugs.’ She climbed out of the Yukon and went to the boot. She opened it and showed Pearce the contents of a Peli Storm flight case that wasn’t much bigger than a shoebox. The electronics gear she’d mentioned was encased in laser-cut foam.
‘Can you set the camera for motion?’ Pearce asked.
Leila checked for any passers-by, but the street was deserted. She switched on the tablet that controlled the devices and adjusted the camera’s settings, while Pearce pocketed a tracker and a bug.
‘We’ll have to come back to rig the house,’ Pearce said. ‘But I can set up the camera to let us know when they’re out. It will also pick up any visitors. I can rig the car to give us ears on them and tell us where they go.’
Leila handed Pearce the tiny buttonhole camera. ‘Do you need a mount?’
‘Some putty,’ he replied.
Leila handed him a tube of fast-drying modelling cement, and he set off down the street. She shut the boot, climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. She watched him intently, ready to step on the accelerator if anything went wrong.