The Ambassador's wife

Tay had absolutely no intention of doing anything of the sort, and when DeSouza bent toward him, he moved back a bit, just in case.

“Elizabeth Munson is the wife of Arthur Elliot Munson III. Art Munson is the American ambassador to Singapore. Your corpse is the ambassador’s wife.”

Tay’s jaw slackened in spite of his best effort to control it. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured.

On the movie screen of his mind, Tay replayed the second in which he had first seen the murdered woman’s body in the room at the Marriott. The smashed-in face, the degrading way she had been posed, the obscenity of the chrome-bodied flashlight poking out of the dark nest of her pubic hair. He felt sick then and he felt sick now. He fought the nausea as it built.

DeSouza watched Tay carefully, but he said nothing more. Eventually Tay took a long breath and slowly let it out again.

“Have you told her husband yet?” he asked DeSouza.

“I was only guessing why you were running those prints, remember? That’s why I tracked you down today. I wanted to be sure before I said anything to anyone, let alone the ambassador.”

“Is he here in Singapore?”

DeSouza hesitated.

“The ambassador was in Washington most of last week,” he said after a moment, which Tay noticed didn’t exactly answer his question.

“Is he still there?”

DeSouza looked at his watch.

“It’s about three o’clock Sunday morning in DC. The ambassador’s staff assistant told me that he would be leaving there on Sunday and flying straight back here so I’m not sure if he’s left or not.”

“Do you know what flight he’s on?” Tay asked automatically, although as soon as he asked he realized he couldn’t see what difference it made.

“United through San Francisco. He’ll get here tomorrow night.”

“I’ll need to see him as soon as he gets in.”

Tay noticed DeSouza stiffen and he also noticed him try to cover it.

“Why?” DeSouza asked.

“His wife’s been murdered. I’m the investigating officer in the case. What else would you expect me to do?”

“For God’s sake, Sam, give the guy a break. He’s going to get off a twenty-four hour flight at midnight tomorrow feeling like shit warmed over and somebody’s going to meet him at the airport to tell him his wife’s been murdered by terrorists-”

“I think it’s a little early to-”

“Then you want to talk to him when he’s still jet-lagged to hell and in shock over what’s happened. Just cool it for a few days and we’ll arrange something.”

Tay didn’t like the reproachful note in DeSouza’s voice.

“I don’t need your permission to talk to someone who is relevant to my investigation,” he said.

“Actually…” DeSouza paused, looking at Tay with something on his face that was almost a smile, but not quite, “in this case you do.”

Tay said nothing.

“There are issues of protocol here,” DeSouza went on.

“Protocol?”

“Yeah. You know, diplomatic immunity and all that.”

“The American ambassador is going to invoke diplomatic immunity to avoid being interviewed about the murder of his wife?”

DeSouza held up his right hand, palm out like a traffic cop. “Now wait. I didn’t say that.”

“Then what did you say?”

“I said there were matters of protocol to be worked out. Look man, I’m just an FBI working stiff. All that protocol shit is State Department stuff and they’re welcome to it. If they ask my opinion, I’ll give it to them, but the question of who you see and when you see them is up to them.”

“And what is your opinion?”

“That they should arrange for you to meet with the ambassador.” DeSouza smiled his smallest smile. “As soon as it’s convenient for him.”

Tay eyed DeSouza for a moment and then let his gaze drift away. Through the French doors he watched a red bird land on the branch of a small tree in his garden. It was a brilliant scarlet color, almost luminescent, and Tay wondered, not for the first time, how it was that animals could live lives of wild freedom in urban areas like Singapore; and if they could, why people couldn’t manage the same trick. The bird looked around quickly, and apparently seeing nothing of interest, flew away again.

Tay brought his eyes back inside. “Did you know Mrs. Munson, Special Agent DeSouza?”

“Everyone in the embassy knew her, I suppose. This isn’t a large post.”

“So you knew her yourself?”

DeSouza shrugged. “Like I said, it’s not a large post. I saw her around here and there. At parties. Sometimes at the embassy. Like that.”

“You don’t seem all that disturbed about her being murdered.”

“I’m not. I didn’t like her.”

Tay nodded, but before he could decide what to say to that, DeSouza stood up and shook the creases back into his khakis.

“Anyway, Sam, I just wanted to let you know who you’ve got there. I’d better get back to the embassy. I’ve got a lot of work to do before the shit hits the fan.”

Tay remained seated.

“Now that I know why you were trying to ID Mrs. Munson’s prints,” DeSouza went on, “I’ve got a murder investigation to put together. The embassy will make arrangements for the body tomorrow and if you could get copies of your files over to me right away that would be a big help.”

DeSouza took a business card out of his shirt pocket and held it out to Tay.

Tay stood slowly, but he made no move to take the card.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Now come on, Sam. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot here.”

DeSouza bent down and put his card on the coffee table, turning it so that it faced Tay.

“There’s no need to get into some hairy-assed jurisdictional quarrel,” he went on. “The FBI has authority in all cases involving terrorism against United States citizens wherever it occurs. The Diplomatic Security and Antiterrorism Act of 1986 establishes extraterritorial jurisdiction for American law enforcement in all acts of terrorism against citizens of the United States regardless-”

“How do you know this was an act of terrorism?” Tay interrupted.

“The American ambassador’s wife tortured and murdered? Come on, man. Don’t be naive. What else could it be?”

Tay pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. “A jealous lover?”

“Oh, come off it, Sam. If I were you, old buddy, I’d just be happy as hell to have somebody willing to take this one off my plate. Happy as fucking hell. You ought to give me a big sloppy kiss and send me flowers.”

“I think that’s pretty unlikely.”

Tay left the business card where it was and walked into the hallway. He opened the front door and held it until DeSouza caught up with him.

“By the way, Sam,” DeSouza said as he stopped on the threshold, “I really liked the suicide story. Maybe we’ll stick to that. Let me talk to some people and I’ll let you know how we’re going to handle the press. Of course, any announcements will come from the embassy from here on out so make sure your people are on side with that, will you? I’d hate for the ID to leak before we’re ready. We’d all look pretty silly.”

“Good afternoon, Special Agent DeSouza,” Tay said, opening his door a little wider. “I’ll be in touch.”

DeSouza looked for a moment as if he might be about to say something else, but didn’t. He just nodded and left.