left at the scene. And whoever killed Scoby used a couple of Model Sixty-sixes, but definitely not the ones issued to you and Jackson. So what it all comes down to, Henry,' Grynard said with a tired smile, 'is that while we think the scenes were rigged, we don't think you did it.'
'I see,' Lightstone said noncommittally.
'You haven't gotten anything on the fingerprints?' Mike Takahara asked quietly.
'No, nothing.' A1 Grynard shook his head. 'Far as Interpol's concerned, those four individuals do not exist.'
'Shit,' Larry Paxton murmured.
'So now what?' Lightstone asked, watching the FBI agent carefully.
'We're digging into Reston Wolfe's background right now,' A1 Grynard replied, 'and we seem to be hitting a lot of brick walls. He was supposedly just a junior-grade political appointee. He'd been out of the office on travel a lot, but his secretary didn't seem to know where he's been, or why, and there weren't any travel vouchers or plane reservations to trace. Nobody at Interior seems to know much about him or, for that matter, to particularly care.'
'Whoever's running this thing decided to cut him loose,' Lightstone shrugged. 'That's what he was there for.'
'Right,' the FBI agent nodded. 'So now all we have to figure out is who these people are and what the hell they're up to.'
For a long moment, the two special agents stared at each other.
'All we know for sure is that we tripped over something big when we went after the Chareaux brothers. Somebody with a lot of influence went after us, and Wolfe was our only lead,' Lightstone said carefully.
'No idea what it was you tripped over?'
'No, none at all.'
'Oh, by the way,' Grynard added as he stood up. 'There's a sergeant from the Louisiana Department of Fish and Game out in the lobby. He'd like to ask you some questions about Alex Chareaux.'
'Oh, really?' Lightstone said as he and the others followed Grynard toward the door.
'Tell you the truth,' Grynard said as he accepted Henry Lightstone's handshake, 'I'm not sure where our jurisdiction lies with this thing anymore, but if this sergeant from Louisiana knows anything, or you happen to run across another lead-'
'You'll be the first guy we call,' Lightstone promised solemnly.
'I'd appreciate that,' the FBI agent nodded without the slightest change of expression in his dark, brooding eyes.
A half hour later, Larry Paxton, Dwight Stoner, and Mike Takahara introduced themselves to the five somber- faced Louisiana State Fish and Game officers in the lobby of the J. Willard Marriott Hotel on 14th Street. Henry Lightstone was at one of the lobby phones dialing a long-distance number.
'Forensics lab, Rhodes.'
'You guys ever go home?' Lightstone asked.
'Doesn't seem like it some days,' the senior electronics specialist chuckled. 'I was beginning to think you weren't going to call back.'
'What have you got?'
'It's not me. Biggs. Hold on just a second.'
'Hi,' the familiar voice came on the line. 'This is Joe Biggs.'
'The guy with the DNA probes,' Lightstone said, remembering the term but having no real idea of what a DNA probe was.
'Yeah, right,' the serologist chuckled. 'Hey, listen, we happened to trip across something weird down here and I thought you might want to know about it.'
'Oh, really? What's that?'
'You remember those sets of camouflage gear we got in from the Army Crime Lab when you guys were here? The ones that had blood all over them?'
'Yeah, sure.'
'Well, we ran the stains with those new probes I told you guys about, and guess what? The computer popped up with a match.'
'A match with what?' Lightstone asked.
'You.'
Lightstone blinked. 'What?'
'To be more accurate,' Joe Biggs said, 'you and the bear. Your blood on one set and the bear's on both.'
'My blood was on those clothes? Are you sure?'
'The odds against it are about one in a hundred million for you, and maybe one in fifty thousand for the bear,' Biggs replied. 'That makes it… um, fifty thousand times a hundred million… about five trillion to one that another bear and another human, both with the exact same DNA patterns, put that blood on those cammies. I'd say that makes it a pretty decent match.'
Suddenly the entire thing crystallized in Henry Lightstone's mind. Reston Wolfe and the woman, Lisa something, dressed in brand-new camouflage clothing and armed with incredibly expensive rifles, and the bear chasing him…
Can you hear me?
I'm going to try to move your arm.
Holding his head in her lap, knowing it was her because he could smell her perfume over the smell of the blood. His and the bear's.
Jesus!
'Joe,' Lightstone asked in a voice as calm and quiet as he could manage under the circumstances, 'do you have any idea of where the Army Crime Lab got those clothes?'
'Kinda thought you might want to know that,' the forensic serologist chuckled. 'Got a pencil?'
It was eleven-fifteen that evening when the phone in Paul Saltmann's carefully locked and secured underground room rang softly.
'Saltmann,' he rasped sleepily, and then became wide awake as he listened to the familiar voice describe exactly what it was that it wanted done.
'Yes sir, Mr. Bloom,' the curly-haired weight lifter and intelligence specialist finally said when the voice finished. 'I understand completely. You can count on me.'
Chapter Forty-Five
Sunday September 26th
Lisa Abercombie was furious.
'They can't do that!' she screamed into the phone.
'My dear, they not only can do it, they will do it if you don't find Chareaux and this Agent Lightstone immediately,' Albert Bloom warned.
'But-'
'Lisa, listen to me. The FBI is beginning to probe into areas that we do not want examined. And if they ever manage to discover what you and Wolfe have done, there will be nothing we can do to protect you. Nothing.'
The words 'you and Wolfe' jarred at Lisa Abercombie's soul, but she forced herself to ignore their lethal implications.
'Albert, that's not fair,' she protested in a raspy voice, finding it difficult to believe that she was actually using those words. 'You provided the Chareaux brothers with the best legal team in D.C.'
'Yes, but they had absolutely no connection to any of us,' Bloom reminded. 'You do, and we cannot allow it to go beyond you. Not something this big. You, of all people, should understand that.'
'Albert, you have to tell them-' Abercombie started in, but her mentor and lover would have none of it.
'Lisa, listen to me,' Bloom said in a calm, cold voice. 'I can't tell them anything right now. They are telling
