It’ll be a lot better for you, all around. And for me, and for probably everyone in this office. Are we clear on that, Janet?”
She nodded. Clear as a fire bell, she thought. An image of Edwin Kreiss flitted through her mind: coiled silently in that rocking chair, those deepset gray-green eyes like range finders when he looked at her. Crazy man or fanatic? She exhaled carefully. The few spooks she had met from that other world across the Potomac River, military and civilian, had mostly been pasty-faced bureaucrats. Kreiss was apparently from the sharp end of the spear.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Got it.”
“Knew you would,” Farnsworth said with a fatherly smile.
“You have a great day.”
Janet went back to her cubicle, grabbing some coffee on the way. The coffee had a slightly stale, oily smell to it, which was typical of the afternoon batch, but she felt the need for a jolt of caffeine.
Billy was still snoring quietly in the next cubicle when Janet sat down at her desk. She was surprised to see a yellow telephone message indicating that a Dr. Kellermann, of the headquarters Counseling Division, wanted to talk to her. Whoops, she thought. Their deputy dog had called Farnsworth but probably had not canceled Janet’s original query. She looked at her watch. It was 3:15. On a Friday.
She thought about it. Farnsworth had made things pretty clear: Back out. And yet, she could not get Edwin Kreiss out other mind. She’d been in southwest Virginia for a year and a half, and had met absolutely zero truly interesting men in Roanoke. She’d been taking some post doc seminars at Virginia Tech over in Blacksburg to fill the empty hours. And despite the fact that she had married and then divorced an academic before joining the Bureau back in 1991, she knew that she was at least subconsciously hoping she might meet some interesting faculty people.
As it turned out, so far at least, everyone old enough to interest her was either married or so completely engrossed in his or her work, S-corporation, or themselves as to bore her to tears. After her first few appearances in the local fitness center, a couple of the married agents in the office had made it clear they wouldn’t mind a fling, but she had a firm rule about both married men and dating other agents. It wasn’t that Kreiss stirred her romantically, but he sure as hell was interesting.
She decided to take Kellermann’s call. Just to be polite, of course. The case was still theirs, technically, wasn’t it? Maybe Kellermann had something that could keep it here in the field. She looked around the office.
Talbot wasn’t in. It was Friday afternoon; nobody would get back to Farnsworth with the fact that she had called this late in the day.
She dialed the number. A secretary put her through.
“Dr. Kellermann,” a woman’s voice said. Janet identified herself.
“Ah, yes, Dr. Carter. Brianne Kellermann. I was Helen Kreiss’s counselor.
How can I help you?”
The voice was educated and kind, and Janet was momentarily flattered to be called doctor again. Here, she was just called Carter. She briefly described the case, then asked if Dr. Kellermann had any opinions, based on her sessions with Kreiss’s ex-wife, that might bear on the case.
“Please, call me Brianne,” Kellermann said.
“And I’d need to think about that. I need to consider Mrs. Kreiss’s privacy.”
“I understand that, Brianne,” Janet said.
“Although she is, of course, deceased.” She waited for a reply to that, but Kellermann didn’t say anything.
“And I should tell you that this case is being sent up to MP because we haven’t uncovered any evidence that there has been a crime here-these kids might well have just boogied off in search of spotted owls, you know?”
“Let’s hope so. But technically, they are missing? I mean, there’s no evidence the other way, is that what you’re saying?”
“Correct. There are three sets of parents involved, and they had no indication that the kids were just going to take off. Given that these kids were senior engineering students, I think it’s highly unlikely that they did just take off. But—” “And your boss is looking at his budget and wants you to move on.”
Janet smiled. This doc knew the score.
“Right. Which I can understand, of course. Even down here in the thriving metropolis of Roanoke, we’ve got plenty to do.”
There was a pause on the end of the line, and Janet wondered if it was
Dr. Kellermann’s turn to smile. She decided to fill in the silence.
“I’m really calling because one of the parents is Edwin Kreiss. I’m actually more interested in him than in Helen Kreiss.”
“Who is now deceased, of course,” Kellermann said, as if reminding herself.
“Yes. I understand she remarried before the plane crash.”
“Yes, she did. So your interest is really in what Mrs. Kreiss may have said prior to divorcing Edwin Kreiss. Do you suspect he has something to do with the three students’ disappearance?”
Janet hesitated. If she said yes, she’d have some leverage she didn’t have now.
“Actually? No. But one of the things I’m learning here in the field is to pull every string, no matter how unlikely.”
“I understand, Janet. May I call you Janet? And since this case goes back awhile—I think it was 1989 or even ‘88—let me review my files, think about it, and get back to you, okay?”
Janet hesitated. Get back to me when? she thought. As of Monday, the case officially went north. Well, in for a penny … “That would be great, Brianne. Send me an E-mail when you’re ready to talk, and I’ll get in touch.”
“I’ll do that, Janet. Although I may not have much for you. There’s the problem of confidentiality, and my focus is usually on the spouse I’m trying to help, not the other party. That way, we can move beyond blame, you see, and on to more constructive planes.”
Janet rolled her eyes, spelled out her E-mail address, and hung up. She sat back in her chair. She’d given Kellermann her direct E-mail address to avoid any more phone message forms on her desk. Okay, she thought, but let’s say Kellermann goes to her boss, who tells her that Roanoke has been told to put the Kreiss matter back in its box. How would she explain her call if Farnsworth asked? Kellermann contacted her before Farnsworth had called her off? She was only being polite in returning the call? Billy, that well-known Communist, did it?
The Communist woke up with a snort and some throat-clearing noise.
He saw Janet.
“Hey, good-looking,” he said.
“How do you get a sweet little old lady to yell, “Fuck
“Billy—” “You get another sweet little old lady to yell, “Bingo!”
” She laughed.
“Hey, Billy, why don’t you get some of this wonderful coffee and let me run this missing college kids case by you.”
Browne McGarand approached the smokeless powder-finishing building from the east side of the complex, staying in the shadows as he walked through the twilight. He had parked his truck well off the fire road that branched to the left off the main entrance road, then had hiked a mile southwest until he intercepted the railroad cut. From there, he had turned northwest, walking along the single track until he reached the security gates that bridged the rail line. When the installation had been shut down, the gates had been padlocked and further secured with metal bars welded top and bottom across, in case someone cut the chains and locks.
Browne had left all the bars, chains, and locks on the exterior gate in place. Instead, he had used a portable cutting-torch rig to cut through the tack welds that married the chain-link fence to the round stock frame of the gates. By undoing one bolt, he was now able to lift a corner flap of the chain-link mesh and simply step through.
There was a second set of gates fifty feet inside, to match the double security fence that surrounded the entire 2,400 acres of the Ramsey Arsenal.
