Hocus

about the fact that they were letting you trace them.”

“You underestimate the ego of this type of taker,” a voice said.

I looked up to see a balding man of medium height standing nearby. He was thin, wearing a brown suit that looked a little too big for him. He had a pleasant enough face.

“Detective Lewis,” Bredloe said, and made introductions all around.

“Takers tend to fit certain profiles, Ms. Kelly,” Lewis went on, even though no one asked him to. “Paranoid schizophrenic, psychotic depressive, antisocial personality, or inadequate personality. We’ve already seen that Neukirk and Ryan are not true political terrorists, as are their friends in jail. Lang and Colson believed all along that they were part of an anarchist organization. Neukirk and Ryan gave them an outlet for their needs.”

Pete, who had moved nearer and listened to this, made a snorting sound. “Didn’t take you long to figure everything out, did it?”

“How do you know what Lang and Colson’s motives are?” I asked. “Have they talked?”

“No,” Lewis said, “but—”

“Have you checked Lang’s and Colson’s family backgrounds?” I asked. “Or did you stop once you knew where they learned to work with explosives? Anyone look back beyond their years in the military?”

Bredloe looked uncomfortable. “We haven’t had much time. We’ve concentrated on Ryan and Neukirk.”

I decided not to mention that Lang and Colson had been under suspicion days before Hocus took Frank; decided against suggesting that perhaps Lieutenant Carlson had been too busy hassling Frank to allow time to thoroughly investigate his prisoners. I didn’t say it, but the anger was there all the same. “No matter which one of Detective Lewis’s four categories Ryan and Neukirk fit into,” I said, “we already know how the damage was done. We also know they are masters of the art of distraction.”

The next bit wasn’t so easy to say, but I swallowed hard and went on. “I don’t believe the body in that building belongs to Frank. They still need him as a bargaining chip. Making you think it was Frank was important, though. I think they’ve kept most of your resources busy while they were up to something else. Exactly what, I don’t know, but I’m fairly certain they just got rid of someone who had outlived her usefulness to them.”

“Her usefulness?” Bredloe asked. “The young woman?”

Before I could answer, his radio squawked.

“Bredloe,” he answered. “Hold on a minute, Carlos.”

He stood up and walked away from us, put an earphone in his ear. But he watched me the whole time.

Lewis was saying something about leaving things to professionals, but no one was listening. We were watching Bredloe.

He walked back over to us. “It’s not Frank,” he said.

“Oh, thank God!” Bea said, then clasped her hand over her mouth. “I don’t mean to sound happy about whoever—”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Harriman,” Pete said. “We all feel the same.”

“Coroner says the pelvis indicates a female,” Bredloe said.

“Pelvis?” Lewis said. “You mean they only had bones—”

“Yes,” Bredloe said, cutting him off. “Lewis, why don’t you wait for me over at the command post? I’ll be along shortly.”

“Yes, sir,” Lewis said, apparently not in the least perturbed by the dismissal.

“How did you know?” Bredloe asked me once Lewis had gone.

“I didn’t. I hoped.”

He was silent.

“No,” I said, “that’s not true. There were reasons I hoped — the ones I gave you. And remembering that last phone call, the way Samuel sounded whenever we talked about her. Remember? He said, ‘I can’t seem to make you understand that she is no longer of interest to me.’ ”

“Hmm. Yes, I remember.”

“A couple I talked to — the Szals? They said that even Bret Neukirk disliked Samuel’s attitude toward women — Bret thought he simply used them.”

After a moment he said, “The firemen found some gas tanks up there. You know anything about that?”

“No,” I said. “Sorry. What kind of gas?”

“Nitrogen. They think it might have been hooked up to the room somehow. Enough to asphyxiate someone, they said.”

We sat in silence, Bredloe’s thoughts seeming far away.

“Put Thomas Cassidy back on this case,” I said. “Please. He understands Ryan and Neukirk.”

“He undoubtedly does understand them,” Bredloe said. “That’s what he specializes in — understanding what drives people, what they want. But Hocus also knows what drives him, I’m afraid.”

“Just because—”

“I heard that tape, Irene,” he interrupted. “Even you would have to admit that the man is exhausted.”

I couldn’t argue with that.