“And what good does that do? I want to move on Galan Z.”
“I’m not sure, but I’m thinking if we can maybe, just maybe, put father and son back together, we can maybe use Jack to trap Galantz.”
Mcnair studied the ground for a moment. “That’s a real reach, G-man. But maybe that’s the best we can do. And you’ll keep me cut in on what you get out of that?”
“We have so far, haven’t we?” Karen said.
“Yes, you have, Commander. Which is the intelligent thing to do, when there’s homicide on the table. But I’m also worried about the Navy getting ahead of us. I told Mr. von Rensel here that my bosses have been getting some heat about this case from some federal sources-as in the Sherman problem involves a federal situation best left to federal solutions. It wouldn’t stun me if the Navy told both of you, for instance, to return to the fort and leave Galantz to the real Indian fighters.”
Train looked sideways at Karen. Mcnair caught it.
“Uh-huh. Already happened, am I right?” he said.
“Sort of,” Train -said. “Although I’m not entirely sure what the game is. I take my orders from the Navy JAG, Admiral Carpenter, as does Commander Lawrence here.”
“And those orders currently are what, specifically?” Mcnair demanded.
“Not to pursue Galantz. Not to interfere with the efforts of other people who might be pursuing Galantz. To keep Commander Lawrence safe from any more attempts on her life.”
“And Admiral Sherman was sent on some kind of temporary duty? Is that like suspension with pay?”
“Not normally, but in this case, I’d say he was put somewhat in limbo,”
Train said. “It’s almost as if the admirals are waiting for something to happen. But I don’t know what the hell it is.”
Mcnair nodded but remained silent. He drew his Coat closer around his throat as the drizzle deepened into rain.
“I think,” he said, “I need to go talk to my lieutenant again.
This is getting too political for us snuffles. And if the feds are well and truly in it, it’s gonna get pretty screwed up.”
He looked up at Train with a wry smile. “No offense intended, G-man.”
Train laughed. “None taken. No arguing with reality.”
“So’we’re agreed?” Karen persisted. “We’ll get in touch with Admiral Sherman, Navy-to-Navy, as it were, and see where it takes - us?”
“I guess So,” Mcnair said. “But just in case, let me confirm your car phone numbers.”
Train and Mcnair exchanged numbers and then Mcnair closed his notebook.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m headed back to D.C. And, Commander, when you have your meeting with Sherman and Junior, leave that forty-five at home, all right?” Mcnair grinned again as he headed for his car. Train wisely said absolutely nothing.
An hour later, Karen put the road map back up in the sunshade over her seat and switched out the map light. “Route 216 from here down to the interstate,” she said.
“Got it,” Train replied. -“It’s nice having a navigator. I usually wing it and then get to see lots of unusual sights.” ‘“Not that you would stop and ask for directions?”
“Naw. Against all the guy rules.”
“Right. Is Mcnair still behind us?”
Train looked in his mirror and said yes. They were headed down a two-lane state road in the darkness of the Maryland countryside.
Mcnairhad followed them out of the hospice parking lot in his departmental car. Train was maintaining a fairly constant sixty in deference to the slick roads.
“So,” she said, “how do we go about getting in touch with Admiral Sherman?”
“Call him,” he said. “We know he’s up here at the hospice tonight. I’m going to assume he’s checking his voice mail.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I guess we’ll contact with him at the motel. I had hoped not to reveal that we know the details of this situation.
It like a Peeping Tom, looking at that tape.”
Karen had been struggling with that problem since they had left the hospice: how to regain contact with the admiral without letting him know what they now knew.
It started to rain a little harder, and Train slowed down to fifty-five.
The two-lane black asphalt road glistened in their headlights between indistinct boundary lines. They appeared to be passing through some low foothills, with intermittent farmsteads fleetingly’ visible under barnyard security lights among the trees. The farmhouses were all, built practically on the edge of the road, and the barns were enormous. Train looked back in the mirror.
“Not much happening out here in the sticks on a Friday night,” he said.
“We and Mcnair are the only people out here.”
As if to make a liar out of him, a. pickup truck came past in the other lane, trailing a cloud of spray. Train had to hit the windshield cleaners after the truck passed. Karen turned in her seat as the truck went past, which momentarily illuminated the car behind them. She looked and then turned around quickly.
“I don’t think that’s Mcnair,” she said. “Unless his car sprouted one of those cop-car spotlights since he left.”
Train looked into the side mirror and then the center mirror. “I can’t see anything but headlights. You sure?”
“I think so. I’m going to look again the next time a car comes past. How far back do you think that car is?”
“Maybe ten lengths. He’s been pretty constant. That’s why I assumed it was Mcnair.”
She wanted to turn around again, then realized that if she did, the driver back there might see her face. “Didn’t Mcnair give you the number for his car phone?”
“Sure did,” he said, fishing in his shirt pocket for the piece of paper.
Karen read the number and dialed it up on Train’s car phone. The signal was weak and scratchy, but she could hear four rings, then the recording saying the customer was not available. She hung it -up.
“Not available,” she reported, resisting the urge to turn around again for another look.
“That doesn’t prove it’s not him,” Train said unconvincingl,./ ..7.
“So now what do we do? Mcnair’s car was white; that one back there looks like a darker color. And there’s that spotlight. I I
“Did you see antennas? Like a state cop car?”
Karen thought for a moment. “Yes, I. think I did. On the roof. Maybe it’s a state cop, or a county patrol car. Are you speeding?”
He shook his head as they entered a stretch where the woods came tight down to the road on either side in a blurry embrace of rain-soaked forest. The road curved to the right and began to climb a long hill.
Train slowed down to an even fifty. Karen watched the car behind them in her side mirror. The distance did not change. Whoever was back there was paying attention.
“Next paved side road on the right,” Train said. I’ll m going to make an exciting turn. If this guy follows us, we’ll either get pulled over or we have a problem.” He doublepunched the door locks and the compartment opened under his left elbow. He took out the Glock and passed it over to Karen. “Hang on to this for me. If it’s a cop car, I’ll put it back before he gets to the window.”
Karen took the heavy pistol and put it in her lap.
“That’s a Glock,” he said. “It’s double-acting. Point it and pull the trigger. It’ll fire once and then it’s s&miauto.
Don’t hold the trigger down.”
Train accelerated a little, keeping both hands on the wheel as he piloted the big vehicle through the winding turns of the hilly road.
There was no sign of any side roads, and she suspected they would have to get back down to flatter land
