slush pile.'
Jennie then turned to me. She pointed at her watch and said, 'We need to be going.'
I nodded. Everybody nodded, apparently agreeing that we should be going.
General Tingle stood, and we both stood. The general remarked to us, 'I warned you that it might be difficult to isolate a particular case.'
Jennie shrugged. 'Elimination is as important as discovery. We've at least ruled out three cases that aren't hopeful.'
In that light, I said, 'However, General, you and your people should keep searching. It's possible the FBI screen missed some likely cases, and it's also possible the case was never reported to the FBI in the first place.'
Tingle positioned himself between us, took our arms, and began speeding us along to the door. He couldn't get rid of us fast enough. 'In an hour this headquarters will be swarming with investigators. I'll send a worldwide alert to all CID stations to review all lost and stolen weapons cases. I'll call if we get anything.'
Eric Tanner looked particularly relieved as we bid our adieus and went back outside and climbed into the MP humvee for the drive back to the helicopter. Jennie was quiet and moody Not a word was said during the ride.
Fortunately, Jimbo had somehow gotten his hands on a thermos of coffee and two mugs, and I suddenly saw him in a whole new light. You can run on adrenaline for only so long, after that it's all about caffeine.
The helicopter lifted off, and Jennie still said not a word. Eventually, she turned to me.'Was it your impression we got anything useful out of that?'
'Probably not.'
She exhaled deeply 'I found that very… frustrating.' After another moment she said, 'That Tanner guy, he pissed me off.'
'I thought you two hit it off really well.'
'I'm serious. He got under my skin.'
'Fooled me.'
'He was so full of himself. I can't remember seeing shoddier police work. CID people… are they always that amateurish?'
'Now, that's unfair.'
'Is it? If I brought a half-baked theory like that to my boss, I'd be fetching coffee and doughnuts for the bookkeepers.'
'Goodness-did we get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?'
'We never went to bed.'
'Ah… that explains it.'
'Would you get serious?' Apparently she was in a really foul mood, because she added, 'I shouldn't have to remind you that every minute is precious. That was a complete waste of our time.'
'Fine. That's what we'll report back.'
'Fine.' She stared out the window, and I stared out the other window.
I hadn't seen her like this, except at our first meeting, when the gun was really at her head. But as somebody wise and knowing once advised me, women speak two languages, one of which is verbal. Still, I thought I knew what was going on here. This wasn't about Eric Tanner, this was about George Meany. These two were playing for keeps. He had undermined her from day one, and now he was trying to deep-six her career, dropping dimes on her to Townsend, and who knew what else. Being her boss, George had lots of advantages he was not hesitating to use. Jennie's only chance was to bring home breakthroughs, not dead ends.
After a few minutes of silence, she grabbed my sleeve and pulled me toward her. She asked, 'Am I being a bitch?'
Well, I do know when to keep my mouth shut.
She said, 'I know I am.' 'Well… actually-' 'Sorry. Lack of sleep. Lack of breakfast.' I did not reply to that either.
She said, 'When we're done debriefing, let's get that hotel room.'
And like that, the day was off to an interesting start.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As we climbed off the helicopter and walked across the tarmac, we shook hands and agreed we would keep our debriefings short and be out in no time. In truth, I had felt fine until Jennie mentioned food and sleep, at which point Pavlov kicked in. My ass was really dragging.
But by coincidence, Mort Silverman was puffing on a big stogie outside the entrance as we made our way into the building. Between his plump physique, rumpled suit, and oversize cigar, the guy looked like Danny DeVito in front of a bad movie set. In fact, I had yet to observe a single CIA person who bore an even passing resemblance to James Bond. Most, like Mort or Phyllis, looked like somebody you'd run into in the produce section of the local Giant. Of course, it's not about how they look: It's about how they think. I introduced Mort to Jennie, and Jennie to Mort, and they exchanged a few pleasantries.
Incidentally, I noticed that Mort was standing on my left foot, which I interpreted as a subtle way of telling me not to go anywhere. Jennie had to check her phone messages, and eventually she departed, leaving us alone.
Mort drew a heavy puff from his cigar and asked, 'Got a minute?'
'For you, Mort, two minutes.'
'Two things. You want the good news first or last?'
'How about the kick in the ass first.'
He laughed. 'Yeah, well… you know a guy named George?'
'Why? Has he been shot? Tell me it's so.'
'You should wish. He called Phyllis while I was in there. Not for nothin', watch your ass around him.'
'And what was George's issue?'
'I couldn't hear much. But I caught enough to know he was pissing all over you.'
'Thanks. I owe you one.'
'Yeah, you do. Now you're about to owe me two.' He asked, 'You know what Carnivore is?'
'Sort of like an Internet search service, right?'
'Like King Kong is sort of a monkey It belongs to the FBI, and NSA's got another version that works internationally. You cue it for. .. like, certain words and phrases, and it sweeps through the world's telephone and e-mail conversations. If one of these phrases pops up, say, in a conversation, it gets collected.'
Perhaps recalling that I was a technological dimwit, Mort searched my face to be sure I understood before he continued. 'Phyllis had Peterson order NSA to look for the phrase 'one hundred million bucks,' or variations thereof.'
'Good thinking. They get anything?'
'A lot of hits, from banks, security houses, and the U.S. Congress.' He paused a moment and sucked on his cigar. 'But somebody's shoving a block of a hundred million bucks pretty quickly through a bunch of banks.'
'Explain that.'
'This basket of money's gone through… like, six banks, just in the past twelve hours.'
'Okay. Why would somebody do that?'
'You tell me.'
I thought about it a moment. 'Laundering?'
'Well, I called some sources over at Treasury. Good guys… they're into this money shit, right? Not laundered… hidden.'
'And there's a distinction?'
He laughed. 'That's what I said. Sometimes tax dodgers, they shift their money around a lot. It creates a long chain, and tax authorities lose the thread.'
'Okay.'
'I said, so if you had to make an illegal payment of, like, a hundred million sometime in the near future, would
