to do if we lost our keys. Probably have to walk.”
“Exactly,” Bulatt said, nodding. “Which reminds me, do you remember that big case that one of our special ops agents — Henry Lightstone — worked last year? The one where we asked you to track back on the country and population source of a bunch of hairy-legged critters?”
“I think it’s safe to say the entire lab is aware of that case,” Renwick said, “mostly due to reoccurring nightmares.”
“You guys ever get the genetics worked out?”
“I don’t think so. Too many other higher priority issues; although I’ll bet if you took a vote amongst the lab staff — ”
“So they’re still here?”
“Every one of the damned things; in their own tanks, and locked securely in the bug room. Or at least we assume they’re all there. I seriously doubt that anyone’s gone back there to take a count, except for the university kid we hired to do the feeding.” Renwick gave Bulatt a questioning look. “Why, are you thinking about taking them with you?”
“Yeah,” Bulatt said. “That’s exactly what I was thinking about.”
Conference Room, National Fish amp; Wildlife Forensics Lab
Twenty minutes later, when Bulatt walked back into the lab conference room with a large cardboard box in his hand, he found Donn Renwick, Steve Hager, Juliana Ferreira, Linda Reston and her twin sons waiting for him. The boys were now sitting extremely close to Achara at the far end of the table, and pointing out something on a computer screen.
“Things are about to get interesting,” Bulatt said as he carefully placed the box on the floor and then sat down in the one empty chair.
“You mean more interesting than assaulting federal agents, and stuffing them in the back of a SUV?” Reston inquired.
“I think so,” Bulatt said, nodding.
“Before you tell us why that might be the case, maybe we should fill you in on a few things first,” Renwick suggested.
“Sure,” Bulatt said agreeably. “Go ahead.”
“I’ll start,” Ferreira said. “The tissue under the jacketing of that bullet is definitely from a Clouded Leopard. I confirmed that with the mass-spec a few minutes ago. I don’t know if it’s been genetically altered, like the other two; but I should know more about that by tomorrow afternoon.”
“And we’ve gotten three hits out of NIBIN on the cartridge casing,” Renwick said. “one out of Russia, one out of Alaska, and one out of South Africa; all within the last two years. No suspects, but a lot of scene evidence that we can try to link up.”
“Any hits on the bullet?” Bulatt asked.
“No, just the casing, so far.”
“Okay, that still fits the wealthy international hunting pattern,” Bulatt said, nodding. “Anything else?”
“Just one minor thing,” Hager said. “We got a match on the print.”
“You — what?!” Bulatt’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Michael Hateley. Fifty-five year old Caucasian male, CEO of a major defense industry subcontracting firm in Denver, busted for drunk-and-disorderly and assaulting a police officer in Anchorage thirty-four years ago,” Hager said, reading from his notes. “That’s where the computer found a set of his prints. Based on his reported blood alcohol level, he probably didn’t even remember having his prints taken.”
“Are you absolutely sure about the match?” Bulatt said in a hushed voice.
“Ninety-eight percent confirmation by the system, which is as high as the software is programmed to go. I’ll have a copy of the original prints faxed to us tomorrow morning, so I can make the final confirmation under a glass; but, yeah, odds are extremely high that he’s the guy who put his thumb on that two-four-three casing. Unfortunately, I don’t think that solves your problem.”
Bulatt blinked in sudden realization.
“Shit, you can’t match the casing to the bullet with the Clouded Leopard tissue, can you?”
“No, we can’t,” Renwick said. ‘We would have some arguable degree of probability if there were bullets collected from those Russia, Alaska and South African scenes; but the only thing they submitted were cartridge cases.”
“But you can still link those cartridges — and therefore the scenes — to Hateley’s rifle, can’t you?” Bulatt asked hesitantly.
“Very possibly,” Renwick agreed, “assuming he didn’t buy it from some other internationally-traveling hunter, which is exactly what his lawyer is going to claim.”
“And even if we can prove he bought the rifle two years ago, and didn’t lend it to anyone, he still could have been hunting at each of those locations the week — or month — before; which is something else his lawyer is likely to claim,” Hager added.
“And you can’t tell when those cartridges were fired?” Bulatt asked.
The two forensic scientists shook their heads.
“Shit,” Bulatt muttered to himself. He stared down at the table, lost in thought for a few seconds. Then his head suddenly snapped back up.
“Can we get a copy of Hateley’s mug shot from that Anchorage arrest; or, ideally, an updated photo,” Bulatt asked.
“We’re already working on it,” Achara said, looking up from the computer. “The boys are digging into his Corporate website right now. If they can find something — ”
“Not ‘if’ — we will find something,” one of the identical twins said. “No doubt about it.”
“Yeah, absolutely no doubt,” the other confirmed.
“You two just be careful where you dig; you know your limits,” Linda Reston warned her sons, and received a quick pair of “yes, moms.”
“Limits?” Bulatt asked quizzically.
“There are some relevant federal rules about hacking firewalls and private databases; and, contrary to my son’s opinions, the computers they’re using can be traced,” Reston said. “Being the responsible parent, I’d like to keep them out of federal prison for a few more years.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Bulatt said absentmindedly as he looked around the conference room, grabbed a pad of paper, and began writing furiously. After a minute or so, he tore the top sheet off the pad and handed it to Reston. “Can you do any or all of that?” he asked.
Reston examined the block-printed notes. “Satellite Security?”
“The window sticker on the rental car I smacked into claims it’s protected by their full system,” Bulatt explained. “Why rent something like that for one car and not the others?”
Reston shrugged. “I can check. When do you need it?”
Bulatt looked at his watch. “Is a half-hour asking too much?”
“Yes, it is, but I’m starting to enjoy this; so I’ll see what I can do,” Reston said after a moment’s hesitation. Then she looked over at her twins. “Can you keep an eye on those two while I try to get some work done?” she asked Achara, very much aware that the hormones of her sons were finally kicking into high gear.
“As long as I can stay awake, sure, no problem,” Achara said with a tired yawn, generating a pair of wide grins among her two charges.
“Actually,” Bulatt said, “I think I’m going to need Achara for a while; but I guess I could take the boys along too,” he offered.
“Absolutely not, they get enough free-wheeling inspiration from their father as it is,” Reston said emphatically. “I’ll keep an eye on them; they can help me on the car registrations.”
The twins started to protest, but Bulatt cut in: “after that, Achara and I will be happy to take them out for all the pizza they can eat; but only if they manage to track down those links.”
“Going out for pizza afterwards is fine, just as long as their computers stay right here,” Reston reminded.
The promise of all the pizza they could eat while in the presence of an exotic woman like Captain Achara
