CHAPTER 7
SEATTLE (Friday, Nov. 30, 2012) — Stan Warren was sitting two blocks away when Mac drove by.
“Now where is he headed?” Warren wondered aloud. He didn’t try to follow him. He had a new appreciation for Mac Davis’ caution. Davis would spot him. Hard to track a paranoid, he thought. No cell phone. Answering machine with no outside pick up commands. Computer wasn’t on except when he was using it; not linked to the Internet at all. Damn guy must physically unhook the wires when he didn’t need to send an email or a fax, Warren thought with exasperation and reluctant admiration. He was still using his own vehicle, however; Warren wondered how long it would take him to ditch that rig for another.
Warren thought of Nick Rodriguez still reading Donnelly’s profile of Davis and getting in
