'Machiavelli.'
John still didn't know whether it was or it wasn't. He'd found a picture of Machiavelli somewhere and concluded that Appletree might have been telling the truth.
The SAC came over to join him and fell into one of the chairs, rubbing the top of his crew cut with the flat of his hand. It sounded like a scrubbing brush on tile.
'Well, your pal did it again.'
'My pal?” Not that he couldn't sense what was coming. “Oliver. He screwed things up again.'
'In one day?'
Appletree put his hands in his pockets, stretched out his legs, and leaned the back of his head against the high back of his chair, looking up at the ceiling. “Amazing, isn't it.'
'What do you mean, screwed up?'
'As in ‘complicated.'” He tilted his head back to level and looked at John. “He says those bones show evidence of homicide.'
John stared at him. “Murder by avalanche?'
'Murder by pickax. Ice ax, rather. You have any idea what an ice ax is?'
John shook his head. “So then the bones aren't from those scientists who got caught in the avalanche?'
'Wrong. They are.'
'I don't get it.'
'Join the crowd, John.'
Melva came in holding a mug in each hand: tea for the SAC and coffee for John.
'So glad you were able to make it, Mr. Lau,” she said pleasantly.
'I believe John takes cream, Melva,” Appletree said, “and sugar too. Right, John?'
It was like Appletree to remember that kind of personal detail, even with seventy agents working for him. John smiled. The SAC probably kept a file on everyone in that little office next door and reviewed it before anybody came in.
Appletree took a couple of sips from his mug and set it on the coffee table. “Now, the thing is, there's some confusion over just who's going to handle the case.'
'How come? Doesn't the Park Service have, what do you call it, proprietary jurisdiction?'
'Well, yes, technically, but the chief ranger's asked the bureau to come in and run things. It's federal land, so it's a legitimate request. The guy's really shorthanded because all his seasonal help are gone. And, frankly, I don't think he's too keen on running a homicide investigation.'
'Okay, so what's the problem? There's an FBI office in Juneau, isn't there?'
'Yes, but there's only one resident agent, and he's close to filing on a big drug case. He just can't spare the time. Anchorage says they can't either. Even the state police say they don't have people to help out.'
'I'm getting the impression nobody's too anxious to take this on.'
'Well, think about it. Corpus delicti consists of some rags and a few old bones dug out from under an avalanche along with a broken ice ax. Hotshot professor comes along and
'No, thanks.'
Appletree's lipless but disarmingly youthful grin suddenly split his face. “Well, you've got it.” He rubbed the top of his head again, looking pleased with himself.
'Actually, it's very logical. In the first place, in 1960, at the time this happened—if it happened—the Juneau office reported to Seattle, so it would have legitimately been our baby from the start. If anyone had known about it.'
'Oh, yeah, that's really logical.'
'Second, this was a U-Dub expedition. Whoever those bones belong to, he was from here, not from there. So's the number-one suspect.'
'We've actually got a suspect? Terrific. What is he, ninety years old now?'
'I'll tell you about that later. Third, you've worked with Oliver before. You're the one who got him involved.'
'Now we're getting down to it. This is a disciplinary assignment, right, boss?'
Appletree laughed. “You're working on the Tackney Mutual file, aren't you? Why don't you turn that over to Mintner and get on this instead? Glacier Bay's only three hours by air. You could start tomorrow morning. Well, couldn't you?'
'Yes, sir, I guess so.'
'Good. Give it a shot, see what you can do. If you're not getting anywhere at all by, say, Friday, we can quietly drop it.” His expression sobered. “Look, John, if you'd really rather not—'
