of it.
I went back to where our guys had set their surveillance point. I looked around, to see where the best view of them could have been had. If they’d been careful, nowhere I could see from. And they would have been careful, knowing they’d been seen the previous day. So…
Well, if you couldn’t see ’em where they’d been set up, you’d have to pick them up somewhere on their ingress route. Follow the logical track. Intercept them where you thought they’d be. Sounded good, but if I was stalking our guys, that would be a little chancy. If you lose sight for a time…
There’s a thing they use in antisubmarine warfare called a datum. If a ship is torpedoed, and can report that fact, that’s what they call a ‘‘flaming datum.’’ The most recent possible information. Whatever you’re going to use to attack the sub heads toward that ‘‘flaming datum,’’ and the longer it takes for it to get there, the wider the possible area where the sub can be. They figure the maximum speed of the sub, assume it has fled, and draw a circle with that radius around the datum point. Now, the same sort of thing would be at work here, I thought, except there would be a direction of travel to go with the datum. If the shooters had acquired our guys at a particular point, seen what direction they were heading, estimated their progress…
Then they would have gone to that point, and that was where they had been seen by Turd. Or very close to it. They were in transit when they were discovered. Going toward where they thought our guys would be… and they would have probably assumed they were going to the patch…
I went over to where the shooter had been, and looked back, figuring that the second shooter, being on my left, would have come from the same place. Between my left, or 270 degrees, and my rear, or 180 degrees, was where I’d come from, because I was ahead of the man at 270. Given that, I turned around, reestimated the degrees, cut it in half, and looked up.
I was just about looking straight at the point where we’d found the MREs.
I really wanted to call Hester. But she was on days off, and she needed a break as much as I did. Aside from my excitement, there was no real reason to bother her until the next day. But until I saw her again, I thought I was going to explode. I didn’t want to tell Lamar right away, because I wanted to be absolutely sure.
Hester was back up at 0930 on Monday, the 8th. I really wanted to run out into the parking lot to meet her. Instead, I walked. She was lugging about fifty pounds of paper, the summaries of all the interviews all the state agents had conducted since the shooting. We were going to go over them together.
‘‘Give you a hand?’’
She looked at me sort of suspiciously. ‘‘Sure.’’
I took one of the two shopping bags she’d stuffed the reports in. ‘‘Hey, these really are heavy!’’
‘‘Isn’t that why you offered…?’’
‘‘Yeah, but, listen to this. I’ve got some news. I went back to the scene and when I was there…’’
‘‘Hey!’’ she said. ‘‘Slow down. You sound like a ten-year-old.’’
I absently held the door for her, and she just as absently walked through it.
‘‘Yeah, but this is so cool.’’
We lugged the paper through the reception area and sat down in the investigator’s office.
‘‘Now,’’ she said, dusting off her hands, ‘‘tell me.’’
She got it right away. The datum bit, the whole thing.
‘‘You mean, they were trying to get to our guys before our guys got to the patch?’’
‘‘Right!’’
‘‘So what about Turd?’’
‘‘What about him?’’
‘‘Well, where does he fit in?’’
‘‘He doesn’t! That’s just it. They didn’t have any idea Turd was anywhere around. They couldn’t have, because they’d left the perch and come down to go after our people before Turd even got there.’’
‘‘You mean, to protect the patch?’’
‘‘Right.’’
‘‘From our guys?’’
‘‘Right!’’
She thought for a second. ‘‘Well, I think you’ve got the movements right. But we’ve got a little problem with the motives.’’
‘‘How so?’’
‘‘Well,’’ she said, her brow furrowed, ‘‘if they’re protecting the patch, they’d have to have ownership, right?’’
‘‘Probably.’’ I was hesitating, because I was afraid I knew where she was going.
‘‘So, if they own the patch, or at least guard it, they’ve gotta know about Turd, because he’s the gardener.’’ She looked up. ‘‘Right?’’
Uh-oh. ‘‘Right,’’ I said.
‘‘So why did they kill Turd? Why not just grab him or something, to keep him quiet? Hell, why not just tell him to stay home?’’
Well, I sure as hell didn’t have an answer. ‘‘But you agree with the movements?’’
‘‘Oh, yeah. No doubt you’re right about that.’’
‘‘Well, then,’’ I said, ‘‘maybe they just…’’ I hung on that one.
‘‘Just what?’’
‘‘Oh, hell, Hester, I don’t know… maybe they just fucked up?’’
She grinned, and so did I.
‘‘I don’t think so,’’ she said. ‘‘But we’re on the track now. We are. I can feel it.’’
I leaned back in my chair, clasping my hands behind my head. ‘‘Know what I’m afraid of?’’
‘‘Probably, but tell me…’’
‘‘The narc folks have our answer.’’
‘‘Yeah.’’ She took off her sports jacket, revealing a white sleeveless blouse and a reddish-brown holster for her 9 mm.
‘‘New holster?’’
‘‘Yeah,’’ she said, turning to the side to give a better view. ‘‘Not every man would have noticed…’’ She gave me a stern look. ‘‘Would you have noticed on a guy?’’
‘‘Sure would,’’ I said, honestly.
She grinned as she sat back down. ‘‘You’re right, you would.’’
‘‘Hand-tooled?’’ I asked.
Her eyebrows flickered up, then down. ‘‘You’ll never know, Houseman. You’ll just never know.’’
We called Johnny Marks’s probation officer. He said he’d get back to us as soon as he talked with him.
Before we got into the reports, we tried DEA and DNE, to let them know what we’d deduced, and see if they could unravel the snarl for us. Nobody with any information on the case was ‘‘available.’’ Probably wouldn’t be for three or four days. Might be able to give us a call later, but not to meet.
Hester, who was speaking to the agent on the phone, said something about vacations, and shook her head.
‘‘No luck?’’
‘‘No, and now I’m wondering what the hell’s up with them.’’
‘‘Hey,’’ I said, ‘‘when you were undercover for the narcs, did you fuck with the locals like this?’’
‘‘Oh, sure,’’ she said, almost absently. ‘‘All the time.’’ She looked up. ‘‘It’s an arrogance thing, I guess. But it’s catching. Sometimes you didn’t return a call for a couple of days, just to let them know how little they counted.’’
‘‘Oh.’’
‘‘It’s just a thing.’’
‘‘Maybe,’’ I said, ‘‘they should recruit from the ranks of the experienced investigators instead of the new folks. Maybe then they wouldn’t tend to do that.’’
‘‘You’re probably right,’’ she said.
We went back to reading interviews.
Two hours later, Marks’s PO called back. He wasn’t able to locate Marks anywhere. Did we have any ideas
