The man squinted into the bright Antiguan sun then pulled out his phone and opened a map application. He again removed the photograph and stared into the eyes of Special Agent Jana Baker. The photo had been taken on stage at the FBI training center on the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. It was her graduation from special agent training. She was shaking the hand of Stephen Latent, the then director of the FBI.
The man studied the map, which indicated a single ping located not far from his position. “Still in the same place,” he said to himself, then walked toward Heritage Quay and followed signs to the Nevis Street Pier. “Need to rent a boat,” he said to a man on the dock.
The man had weathered ebony skin and was shaded beneath a straw hat. He did not look up. “How big a boat?” His accent was tawny with a distinct island flavor.
“Just need to cruise around. Maybe a twenty-footer.”
“Doing some fishing?” the vendor asked.
“Yeah, something like that,” the man said as he stared up the coastline.
Twenty minutes later the man turned the key and dual outboard engines roared to life. He let them idle a moment, then threw ropes off the bow and stern and pushed back from the dock. He wedged his phone tightly between the windshield and dashboard so that he could see the map, then propped the photograph next to it. He motored out of the harbor, following the direction of the ping. “Won’t be long now,” he said as his smile revealed yellowed teeth.