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copy of this book in my study. You could just as easily have asked me for that information over the phone.”

“You’re right,” Martin replied. “It’s the girl in the picture we’re concerned about. She may be a missing person. Claire believes it could be her sister, Amanda. We need to confirm if that’s true.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Did you bring along a picture of Amanda with you, Claire?” Martin asked.

“Of course,” Claire replied. She reached into her purse for the picture. In her haste, she hadn’t taken the time to remove it from its frame.

Martin removed the picture and handed it to Mark. “Do we have the technology to compare the picture in my book against Claire’s?”

“You bet,” Mark replied. “Justin can run a probability analysis on both photographs to verify or deny the similarities. We use the same software forensic labs do to perform modeling analysis. By inputting both pictures into the computer, we’ll be able to tell if these individuals are, in fact, one and the same person.”

“Even with the age difference?” Martin asked. “There’s several years between the appearance of the girls in these pictures.” He placed his finger on the image of a second individual in the picture. “There’s also some suspicion that this guy, Joseph Krebeck, may be responsible for Amanda and Claire’s parents’ death.”

Mark leaned forward in his chair. “What makes you suspect that?”

Claire interjected. “One of my patients told me.”

“Then let’s not sit around wasting any more time,” Mark replied. “Let’s head to the lab and check it out.”

24

THE QUAINT CHARM of the heritage home ended abruptly at the bottom of the stairs. The basement was a startling contrast of high technology, outfitted with the latest in computer systems and high-tech gadgetry. On the far wall of the room, headshot photos filled a large display screen.

“Who are all those people?” Claire asked.

“Surveillance subjects,” an unseen voice announced.

Across the room, a young man slid his chair out from behind his workstation, walked over and introduced himself.

“I’m Justin Dale, Mark’s partner in crime. These are pictures of people we’re building intelligence profiles and databases on. Some we know a little about already, but most of these faces are new.”

“How did you get them?” Claire asked.

“By various means,” Justin explained. “Some are taken by our field operatives. Others we download when LEWIS tells us it’s found a match.”

“LEWIS?”

“Law Enforcement Web-based Internet Surveillance,” Justin explained. “It’s a computer program that scans all major media and newswire services around the world for information based on keywords we specify in our search criteria. When we get a hit, our computers transfer that information to a master database, and a message flag comes up on my screen. We compare the new information to what we have on file and update our records accordingly. It helps us keep on top of key people or groups internationally, while assisting with our current investigations.”

Mark interjected. “We can track anyone in our database at any given time. There are over one hundred field operatives in our organization whose job it is to monitor the activities of anti-government and political dissident groups in specific geographic regions all over the world. They feed us reports on a weekly basis.”

“Amazing,” Claire replied. “How do they get their information?”

“Covertly. They operate in deep cover, which means they’ve gained the confidence of key people in the group and infiltrated it. They then report back to us on the group’s activities when it’s safe to do so. We share that information with federal and international authorities in return for their help when we need it.”

“So, you’re sort of a spy agency.”

Justin smiled. “I suppose you could call us that.”

“How much do you know about a group called The Brethren?”

“Not much,” Justin replied. “Most cults maintain a primary base of operations. The Brethren are what we refer to as a gypsy cult because they move around a lot. Truthfully, they’re pretty tough to keep tabs on.”

“But you can find them, can’t you?”

“It won’t be easy, but yes, we can track them down.”

Mark handed Justin the photograph of Amanda, which Claire had given him. “I need you to run a biometric comparison on these two pictures. We need to confirm if they’re the same person.”

“Duck soup,” Justin replied. He explained to Claire how the identification process worked as they walked to a nearby computer station. “The computer will run an analysis on both pictures. It will compare each image for similarities, like the width of the face, distance between the eyes, plus any general anomalies like scarring, birthmarks, and so on. Depending on how good the photographs are that we have to work with, the system will try to find verification matches on seven hundred and fifty random points of reference.”

While the computer scanned both photographs, the word PROCESSING flashed on the bottom of the screen. Within seconds it was replaced with the words ANALYSIS COMPLETE. A laser printer beside the computer terminal whined. A sheet of paper fell from the machine onto the receiving tray.

Justin examined the report. “Based on the photographs provided and factoring in computerized enhancements to compensate for age difference, the probability that the girl in Martin’s photograph and the one in your picture are the same person is 99.9 percent.”

“Then I’m right,” Claire exclaimed. “It is Amanda!”

Justin nodded. “There’s no denying it.” He patted the computer terminal. “The software under the hood of this baby doesn’t lie. The girl in this photograph absolutely is Amanda Prescott.”

25

VIRGIL LUTT WAS a simple man who yearned for a simple life. His aspirations never included gratifying an insatiable need to unravel the mysteries of the human genome or designing supercomputers capable of mapping distant regions of the galaxy. All he and his wife Sky ever wanted was to be left in peace, to live life on their own terms, and to raise their only child, Blessing, in an environment where love, honesty, mutual respect and an unfailing belief in the existence of a higher power was as

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