Jason finds video shot upriver from where the Mercedes was launched down a long embankment and over the channel wall.
“Call Ackerman,” he says as Cammy Newton thrills to the sight of the luxury sedan airborne as in some chase movie.
He makes note of the coordinates of the camera and estimates the distance from there to the place where the car shot into sight through what might have been a chain-link fence. Even at a distance, he sees an industrial building that might be related to the fence, a structure perhaps twice as tall as others in the neighborhood.
Not two minutes later, Cammy has Marshall Ackerman on the line again from Volunteers for a Better Tomorrow, waiting for Jason as he continues his quest through Google Earth.
He finds what might be the building, resolves the satellite image to maximum magnification, and after a quick study, shifts to Google Street View. He does a three-sixty to discover a place zoned for industry that has fled to other states or countries, sprung and cratered pavement, the grim site of a slow cataclysm, rust and rot.
“I think this is it,” he says.
“He thinks this is it,” Cammy tells Marshall Ackerman.
Jason recites an address, and Cammy repeats it to Ackerman, and Ackerman hangs up, no doubt at once joining men who wait, heavily armed and eager, in vehicles with the engines running.
Jason snares a beignet from the bakery box, Cammy snatches up a morning roll, and they toast each other, bumping pastries together.
“Sweet!” she declares.