Page 143 of Secret Weapon

“I believe it is, but back in Russia, I used to play chess with Vik sometimes.”At first, I’d always lost, which irked me, but I’d gotten better with practice.“The Balestra Mate is a chess move.The queen cuts off the king’s escape both diagonally and vertically while a bishop delivers the checkmate.BalestraM.Whoever owns that boat is also a player.”

“And rich.”

“Stinking.”The photo only showed the rear of theBalestra M, but it was bigger than the yacht Emmy and Black had parked outside the rental house in Naples, and vessels that size cost a small—and often dubiously obtained—fortune.“If someone bribed Fitz, then we’ve just found a candidate with the funds to do so.”

Ana snapped a photo of the ass-end of theBalestra Mfor reference.We’d put in the research request once we’d left the apartment—no point in pinging a cell tower to record our presence, even if she was using a burner.The rest of the visit turned up nothing of interest—no bundles of cash, no coded notes, no hidden flash drives or memory cards, although it was possible we’d missed something tiny due to the nature of our search, namely fast and non-destructive.We were back in our borrowed SUV before Fitz was halfway home.

Which left us with the boat.

“Ten bucks says theBalestra Mis registered to a shell company.”

“Pass,” Ana said.“But Mack will find the true owner eventually.”

Eventually.Who knew where I’d be at that point?My sense of pride hated the idea of leaving a job unfinished.I was driving so Ana could send her messages, and part of me itched to turn toward Naples.The party would be starting now, but all the two of us could do was wait for the chips to fall where they may.

“Maybe we could track down the boat itself?That photo isn’t more than a couple of years old.If we find out where Fitz travelled during that period, he might lead us to theBalestra’s home port.Deckhands talk—someone there would know who the owner is.”

A rare smile spread over Ana’s face.“You know, there could be an easier way.How big do you think that yacht is?”

“At a guess, thirty metres long?Forty?”

“Yachts with a gross tonnage of three hundred or more that travel internationally should have an AIS—an Automatic Identification System—installed.”

“You’re an expert in yachts now?”

I was annoyed that I wasn’t.

“Emmy has an AIS on theBlack Opal.I know this because she showed me how to disable it, but most people don’t do that for safety reasons.Nobody wants to get run down by a container ship in the middle of the night.”

“Okay, and how do we track the AIS?”

Ana’s smile turned into a grin.It looked weird on her.

“There’s an app for that.Give me a minute.”

A minute was literally all it took.We were sitting at a stop light when Ana burst out laughing.

“What?What’s funny?”

“Guess where the boat is?”

“Where?”

“Guess.”

“Just tell me, for fuck’s sake.You know I hate guessing.”

“One clue: it rhymes with Cuntington Peach.”

“Are you joking?”

“When do I ever joke?”

A valid point.“How do we get to Huntington Beach from here?”

It wasn’t so late.We could just take a quick look and be home in time for dinner.And maybe we’d find another piece of the puzzle?I couldn’t deny I was disappointed with our work in Santa Clarita—three days of nosing around, and we still didn’t know for certain who the traitor was.Right now, I was edging toward Fitz, but the evidence was circumstantial and Santoro was still a big fat question mark.

“I’ll program the satnav,” Ana said, reaching out to do precisely that.“And I guess I should let Sam know we’ll be late.”

“We can pick up food on the way back.A pizza or something.”

Once a liar, always a liar.I just couldn’t help it.Because the way things turned out, even returning in time for breakfast would be a challenge.

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