TWELVE
May 24 10:33 a.m.Pratt and the other agents moved through the fog, scouring the bottom of the embankment where the money had been thrown from Jack Winters’ car. They could see each other and not much else. Towards the highway they could see the remnants of fires, which they had already concluded had been set as a diversion. They kneeled to look at tire tracks in the sandy soil that looked like they were produced by a compact car with a narrow wheelbase. There were no tools, containers, or other traces of a human presence. They would send in a forensics team to thoroughly examine the site, but after ten minutes, the FBI team had located nothing that helped. Now they had a bigger problem; the money they weren’t supposed to lose was simply gone.
“We can’t waste any more time here,” P
