He nodded. “A house for sale on the next block. Two stories, unoccupied, with a clear view of Powers's house from the corner bedroom. There are shutters on the window, so the camera can't be seen from outside.”
“How did you get in?” She gestured. “Never mind. What a stupid question. That's just another facet of your business, right?”
“Absolutely. I'll slip you into the house tomorrow night. May I suggest you stop work and get some sleep?”
She nodded. “I'll try again tomorrow.” She started to close the door and then stopped. “You didn't see anything?”
He shook his head as he turned away. “I didn't see anything.”
Morgan stripped off his clothes, lay down, and pulled the sheet over him.
He had told the truth. He had seen nothing.
But there had been someone there, waiting. His every instinct, every nerve had been vibrating with the knowledge. He had been in the game too long not to have developed antennae. It was the reason he had spent an hour and a half driving around before coming back to the motel.
Government?
Probably not. CIA agents on jobs like these usually traveled in twos or threes, and he'd only met a few he couldn't spot.
Powers?
More than likely.
Runne?
It was possible. Everything seemed to be overlapping, and Runne might be allowing himself to be used.
It would be helpful to know who the antagonist was so that he could adjust his actions to each player. But he'd probably have to go in blind and trust to instinct until he saw the field.
And hope he could get Alex in and out before all hell broke loose.
“How long will it take you to get the photos?” Morgan asked as he led Alex up the stairs to the second floor.
“It depends on angles and what there is to shoot,” Alex said, moving carefully in the darkness. “Can't we have the flashlight on?”
“No, I'd be watching any vacant house in the area. Though this window isn't much of a threat. It's out of range. I'd probably concentrate on the house for sale across the street.”
She felt a chill as she always did when she was reminded of Morgan's profession. “Let's hope it isn't out of range for me to shoot.” She knelt by the window and opened her camera bag. “Which house?”
“The white brick, next to the house on the corner.”
She started shooting. Every window. The porches. Upstairs. The garbage cans next to the backyard fence. Then she began to photograph every aspect of every house on each side of the street.
“Get the tree in the backyard.”
“The tree?”
Morgan likes trees.
She remembered Galen saying that about Morgan. Evidently he thought someone else might have the same fondness.
She focused and shot several photos of the tree in the back and then the smaller one on the front lawn. “Satisfied?”
“Are you?”
She shook her head. “Give me another hour. We have to get lucky, and you cut down your chances the less time you spend.”
“I want you out of here.”
“Another hour.” She changed the film in her camera.
He muttered a curse and then moved closer to the window, his gaze raking the street and houses.
“Now?” he asked exactly one hour later.
She nodded as she put the camera in her bag. “I've covered the area thoroughly. I can only hope I caught something on film.”
“Well, if you didn't, you're not coming back.” He picked up her camera and nudged her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. “This is it.”
“Here they are.” Alex called Morgan into the bathroom, where she'd set up a makeshift developing room. “They're not dry yet, but I thought you'd want to take a look.”
He moved to stand beside her and stared down at the pans. “My God, you took enough. It will take an hour to go through all these photos.”
“I already scanned most of them as I did them.” She pointed to the photo of garbage cans by the tall fence in the backyard. “Something interesting here. They're not in the same position in the photo taken an hour later. I thought maybe a dog . . . but they're not turned over. It looks like they've been neatly moved.”
He nodded absently, his gaze shifting quickly from photo to photo. “Anything else?”
She pointed to a window on the first floor. “A man and woman. You can barely see them in the shadows to the left of the window.”
“It doesn't look like much to me. You're sure?”
“I'm used to looking at photographs. I'm sure.” She tapped a photo of a garage on the opposite side of the street from the brick house. “There's a shadow here that could be someone. . . .” She shrugged. “But I can't be certain. It could be a play of light.”