Page 18 of Centurion

“Black canister and a gray top. Yeah, I remember those,” Ronnie said and then sat down beside him. He moved the video ahead frame by frame. “She put it in her purse.” They watched the frames advance until the lights went out.

“Get the still from the floor, please?” Con pointed to the still photographs. “The ones from the blackout.”

Stretching over, Ronnie picked them up and handed them to Con. “Purse.” He pointed to the small black purse with a glittering silver chain. He pointed to the next one. “Purse.” And then the last one where Abrasha shoots her in the face. They moved back to the video. “Lights on.” He froze the frame and worked with his program to enlarge and clarify the photo of both people lying on the floor. They scanned the photo. “No purse.”

“Is there any footage of Abrasha after that?” Ronnie asked.

“Nothing clear. Wait, hold on.” Con tapped his earpiece. “Ethan, can you send me the pictures of Abrasha and his crew at the flight line getting into his aircraft?”

“They’re in the shared folder already,” Ethan answered immediately.

Con’s fingers flew over the keyboard. The screens changed almost too fast for Ronnie to see what he was doing. Within seconds, the photos were on the screen. “That’s the asshole,” Con said and snapped the photo with gridlines bringing Abrasha out of the photo. He enlarged it, and they both waited as the program cleaned up the image.

“There.” Ronnie pointed to the man’s pocket. It bulged, and part of the chain hung over the pocket, shining like a beacon.

“You’ve got good eyes.” Con turned to look at her. “Beautiful ones, too.”

Ronnie shook her head. She’d never had anyone that enamored with her. It was fun, flirty, and something she needed to sort through before moving too far with him. But right then … She put her hand on his chin and turned it back to the screen. “Focus, tech boy. So, Abrasha has the purse and the container. If it’s a film container, what’s on it? Why on film and not digital?”

Con’s eyes narrowed. “I was focusing. Just not on work.”

Ronnie tapped on the picture with the film container. “Eisenberger believed everything digital was going to disappear. That was his manifesto, right? So, whatever is on that film wouldn’t disappear if computers are wiped out.”

“True.” Con stared at his screen for a moment before tapping his earpiece again. “Ethan, have you been cleared yet to access Eisenberger’s bank?”

“Not yet. But without going through the bank's firewalls, I could access his online accounts. He’s paying for two residences in London. I have power and utilities but grocery delivery to only one of the two places.”

“Do you have photos of the residences?” Con asked.

“Yeah, hold on. I’m still compiling this information. Sending now.”

Con pulled the pictures up. “The first is where the groceries are delivered. There has been a hold on his weekly delivery for the last three weeks. I checked on passport scans through airline service providers, and he traveled to Australia, Sydney, to be exact. He stayed in a hotel right at the harbor. Nothing special on his credit card statements that would raise any eyebrows.”

“Can you send that to me, too?” Con asked.

“Sure. I’ll dupe all the files. What’s up?”

“Not sure, but we think Abrasha took Trueman’s purse. She’d put something in it. Something Eisenberger gave her.”

“Like what?”

“An old-time film canister,” Con said. “You know, those old black ones that look like a pill bottle with the gray tops?”

“Film? Ah, dude, check his credit card statement. Eisenberger visited a camera shop. Well, it’s a hybrid shop. Old cameras and computer repair. But whatever … let me find it … there. Page three. Spent some money at the store, nothing crazy to flag the purchase, but still.”

“Do we have any assets in Australia? Sydney?” Con asked no one in particular.

“I’ll send the question upstream,” Ethan replied. “Need them to visit the camera shop?”

“Yep. Need a list of what he purchased.” Con pulled up the website for the shop. “Look there. They sell the old-fashioned cameras and film for thephoto purists. They even sell the chemicals to develop the film and red lights for the dark rooms. Retro all the way.” He turned to her and smiled. “See, changing fonts helps.”

Ronnie stared at the ridiculously handsome man smiling up at her. “A change in how we look at things was a great idea.” She smiled back at him and wondered if she needed to take his advice and change the way she’d been looking at things. Perhaps … She’d rejected the advice of her therapists, her parents, her sister, and yes, her brothers. But none of them had ever worded the change they thought necessary as a change in herperspective. She wouldn’t have to change who she was, just shift her perspective ofhowshe looked at herself. She blinked, and her smile widened. She could do that. And that thought lifted a huge weight from her shoulders.

CHAPTER 7

Conner was running on a severe lack of caffeine and pure willpower by the time they landed in London. Customs agents met them at the aircraft and processed them and their luggage before they deplaned. Once again, he didn’t get a look at her passport, knowing Guardian wasn’t going to use her actual name, but if he could get a crack at one of the aliases, he might be able to find out some information about her.

Con kicked himself in the ass. Stalking the woman wouldn’t endear himself to anyone, including her, Guardian, or the powers that knew he was looking for her. He wanted that tech. He wanted it so bad he was salivating over the idea. And then the question was … who ran the tech that could tell he was searching for her? He’d masked everything.

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