“Those gizmos on her phone in there make me worry and wonder,” Mcnair said. “And they also make me want to pay attention to political advice coming from on high.”
“That’s not your job,” the lieutenant said, surprising Train again.
“That’s my job. Look, von Rensel, as far as the Homicide Section is concerned, we are still investigating two unexplained deaths. We don’t have any suspects-yet.”
Mcnair opened his mouth as if to say something, but he thought better of it when he saw that Bettino was not finished. “We appreciate your filling us in on the military aspects of this case. The two dead people so far have been close to this Admiral Sherman. I’m very concerned that Miss, uh, Commander Lawrence is now missing. Any ideas?”
At that moment, the crime-scene tech from the kitchen stuck his head out the front door and saved Train from having to answer.
“Mcnair? There was voice mail. Someone named Sally called and asked Miss. Lawrence to feed the horses. That was early this morning. Then -a couple of messages from a guy called-what was it, Train? Yeah. Those were between nine and ten this morning.”
The lieutenant stood up. “Thanks, Jerry. Okay, let’s go play Farmer Brown.” He looked over across the yard. “I’m a city boy. That’s a barn, right?”
Captain Mccarty knocked once and went into Admiral Carpenter’s office.
His face was grim, causing the admiral to put down a briefing folder and say, “Now what?”
“Von Rensel left me a message via his mobile voice mail.
Karen Lawrence has gone missing.”
“Missing? What the hell’s that mean?”
“That’s all I have. He said he went out there this morning after she failed to show up for work. Said he left one of his Dobermans with her, and that the dog was in the house and she wasn’t. Her cars are there; cops are there.”
“Goddamn it,” Carpenter said softly, turning in his chair to get up. He walked over to one of the windows and stared at nothing.
“I made a call,,, Mccarty said- “To Sherman’s office.
To see if he might know something.”
“And he wasn’t there, was he?, I Mccarty, surprised, looked up. “They said he was on leave. Have they made a decision? Is that what’s happened?”
Carpenter turned around. “Sort of. He’s chairing a selection board.
Short notice. The deputy in OP-32 has been made ‘acting.’ “I see,”
Mccarty said, the obvious question lingering in the air between them.
“Okay, it was my idea,” Carpenter said. “Reduces his profile while our guys and the cops work the problem. Von Rensel’s on it, presumably with the cops and not in spite of them. That’s as good a resource as we can have in the game right now. Put a call into Bupers. Talk to Sherman and see if he knows where Karen is. I’m going to call the DNI.”
Mccarty did not understand. “The DNI?”
“Yeah. I need him to drop a message down a certain hole.
Say that there had better not be any spook fingerprints on what’s happened to Karen Lawrence. Because if there are, I’ll go to the Washington Post and give them the interview of the year.”
Mccarty closed his notebook. “Does von Rensel know that this Galantz individual may have connections to those people?”
“Not from me. But I would guess he has his own sources on the matter.
Make sure he checks in when he has something. Get in touch with Sherman.
See what he knows, if anything. I think I may have been wrong about what’s going on here… “
Mccarty hesitated, as if waiting for the admiral to explain that last comment. When nothing was forthcoming, he simply said, “Aye, aye, sir,” and left the room. When he had gone, Carpenter sat down at his desk and thought about this new development. He hadn’t been quite honest with Mccarty just then. On the other hand, he’d been hoping von Rensel might find or at least localize this Galantz individual, which would go a long way to solving his other problem.
He decided not to call the DNI. He picked up the phone to call Kensington instead. He dreaded doing it. The DNI’s description of what a sweeper did was sticking in his throat like a bone.
Karen awoke with a start. She hadn’t realized that she’d gone to sleep.
Her throat was very dry, and her right knee hurt where there was excess weight on the bag. The bag.
She felt a flare of terror and immediately stifled it. She tried to swallow, but it hurt. She tried her voice, managing only a croak. She wondered what time it was and how long she had been buried. Bad word, that. Tied up. That was better.
The image of being buried alive was more than she could cope with. He’ll be back, she assured herself. This was done for a reason. He’ll be back.
She wondered where Train was.
She concentrated on controlling her breathing, and on listening. But all she could hear was the thudding of her own heart.
The lieutenant, Mcnair, three of the ‘patrol officers, and Train searched the entire Lawrence property, including the barn, the yard, and the surrounding paddocks before deciding that she wasn’t there. One of the patrol cops rode horses, and he showed them that someone had done the morning feeding and then cleaned up. The horses were all sticking to the far ends of the fields because of all the strange humans. It was nearly 5:30 when they gave it up and gathered on the path leading up toward the house. “Somebody just snatched her up,” opined one of the patrol cops. “Up by the house. Probably when she came back from the barn.
Threw her in a car and went down the road and gone. Too bad she left that Dobo6 in the house.”
“That’s a great-looking dog,” Mcnair said to Train.
“Lennne ask you something. You running a proforma investigation for the NIS, or are you sort of freelancing?”
Train looked at him for a moment, wondering where this had come from.
“Freelancing, after a fashion,” he said.
“I’m under tasking, but not from NIS. From Admiral Carpenter, that admiral you met the-“
Mcnair nodded. “Yeah, the JAG. Okay. I do a little freelancing myself, like when I need another Cadillac or something. So I know about the elasticity of rules. Now, about that spook shit, and all those ‘mights’-“
“I’m going to go back to Fort Fumble and pull on that string,” Train said.
Mcnair gave him a blank took. “Fort Fumble?”
“The Pentagon.”
Mcnair flashed a grin, but then his face sobered. “We’ll do the standard deal,” he said. “A neighborhood canvass.
See if anyone heard or saw anything. Not likely, this area, all these estates, but who knows? And we’ll put a tap on her phone, record who calls in.” He looked over to where Lieutenant Bettino was standing, speaking on a cellular phone. “And, of course, if all else fails, we might have to bring in Fart, Barf, and Itch, eventually.”
“Um,” Train said.
“Um what?”
“There’s a remote’possibility that the FBI may already be working the edges of this case.”
Mcnair thought about that for a moment, then looked up at Train. “Don’t tell me. We’re in the middle of some kind of turf fight between the housekeepers and the gatekeepers?”
Train shrugged. This guy didn’t miss much. “My main concern right now. is that somebody has Karen Lawrence,” he answered.
“This lady mean something to you personally?” Mcnair asked.. I Train re Train gave him a circumspect look. “Yeah, plied, trying to be very careful. “Not something she’s aware of, but yeah, I want to find her.
Alive, and soon. And I’m willing to break some rules and/or bones if that’s what it takes.”
Mcnair looked over towed his lieutenant again. The lieutenant was protesting something, waving his free hand in the air. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind,” Mcnair said softly.
“But you keep me in mind, you hear things. I’m just a lowly homicide dick, okay? Personally,-l don’t give a
