“A guard on patrol at Camp Peary.”
“Any forensics at the crime scene to suggest any leads?”
“None that I know of.”
“The gun?”
“It was Turing’s. He had a permit for it.”
“Were his prints on the gun?”
“It seems like they were.”
“It
“Okay, they were. There was also nothing to suggest he’d been bound and no defensive wounds.” Rivest blurted out, “Look, maybe a damn Camp Peary guard pulled the trigger.”
“Using Turing’s gun?”
“Monk was trespassing. A guard shot him and they’re trying to cover it up.”
Sean shook his head. “If he was trespassing the guard would have a good reason to kill him. Covering it up just digs the hole deeper. And you wouldn’t use Monk’s own gun to do the deed.”
“Who the hell knows with the CIA?” Rivest protested.
“The second reason is even stronger. Monk was killed with a near contact wound. If a guard was close enough to do that he could’ve arrested Monk without killing him.”
“They got in a scuffle and the gun went off accidentally?” Rivest suggested.
“But there was no evidence of a fight, you said.”
Rivest sighed. “Who the hell knows where the real truth lies.”
“So what’s the CIA position?”
“That he climbed over the fence and shot himself.”
“You obviously don’t think that?”
Rivest looked around uneasily. “There’re a lot of eyes around here.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning a place like this, there might be spies.”
“Spies? Why do you think that?”
“No proof. Just my gut again.”
“Anything turn up in Turing’s personal possessions?” Sean asked.
“The Bureau’s taken all that stuff. His computer, papers, passport, etc.”
“Who was the last person to see Monk alive?”
Rivest said, “It might have been his daughter.”
“Doesn’t the Bureau have experts who can help with her?”
Rivest seemed to welcome this change in topics. “They brought one of these so-called experts down and she got nowhere with the kid.”
Sean thought again about his Harley-riding friend Horatio Barnes and decided he would give him a call later. He was torn, though, because he wanted Horatio to focus on getting Michelle well.
Rivest continued, “He was seen at dinner the night before his body was discovered. After that he went to do some follow-up work in his department.”
“How do you know that?” Sean said, sharply.
“The computer log showed him leaving there at eight-thirty. His movements after that are just speculation.”
“How’d he get to Camp Peary? Did he swim or take a boat? Or drive?”
“I don’t see how he could have driven. You can’t get to that part of the compound without going through the main gate. And we can’t tell if he swam over or not. Because of all the rain his body and clothes were soaked through. But it’d be a long haul across the river.”
“By process of elimination he probably went by boat. Any found nearby?”
“No.”
“Are there any boats kept here?”
“Oh, sure. Some rowboats and kayaks; there’s a large sailboat and a few racing sculls. And there’re a couple of powerboats owned by Babbage Town.”
“So lots of watercraft available; but none missing?”
“Right. But if someone did take him over, they could have just put the boat back in its place and who would know?”
“Where are they kept?” Sean asked.
“At a boathouse down by the river.”
“Anybody hear a motorboat on the night Monk was killed?”
Rivest shook his head. “But the boathouse is a good ways away with forest in between. It’s conceivable nothing would’ve been heard.”
“We seem to be hitting a wall everywhere.”
“You feel like a drink?” Rivest asked.
“You think I need one?”
“No, I do. Come on, we’ll have some dinner, a few drinks, and then tomorrow I’ll tell you more about Babbage Town than you’ll ever want to know.”
“Tell me this much, is it worth somebody getting killed over?”
In the fading sunlight, Rivest stared over Sean’s shoulder at the mansion. “Hell, Sean, it’s worth countries going to war over.”
CHAPTER 16
IT WAS ONE A.M. when over the sounds of Cheryl’s light snoring Michelle heard footsteps in the hallway again. Already dressed, she stepped out in the hallway in her stocking feet and followed the person. It was Barry’s tread, she was pretty sure.
She stopped as the footsteps up ahead halted. Michelle looked around. She was on the corridor headed to Sandy’s room. She hadn’t believed Barry when he’d said he didn’t know the woman. His explanation had been too clumsy. Her ears perked up as the person started walking again.
She slid forward, her gaze sweeping across the dimmed lights of the hallway ahead. She heard a door open and close. Michelle edged forward and peered around the corner. There was a light on at the end of the hallway. Then it went out. She ducked back behind the wall when another door opened and closed. After waiting about five minutes, Michelle heard a door open and close again. The footsteps started coming back toward her. She looked around for someplace to hide.
She ducked inside an empty room and crouched next to the door. When the person walked past she peered through the window in the top half of the door. It
At the end of the hall was the door to the pharmacy. Was that the one she’d heard open and close? She looked to her left. Sandy’s room was here too. She peered through the glass of the woman’s door. Sandy was asleep in her bed or at least she seemed to be.
As Michelle glanced down at the floor, her gaze caught on something. She stooped and picked it up. It was a piece of white puffy plastic that people used in shipping boxes. She put it in her pocket, looked once more at Sandy sleeping and quietly made her way back to her room.
The next morning Michelle woke early and made the rounds of the corridors. She passed Sandy’s room as the woman wheeled herself out into the hall. Sandy wore a Red Sox ball cap and a generous smile.
“How’s the migraine?” Michelle asked.
“All gone. One good night of sleep usually does it. Thanks for asking.”
“When’s your shrink session?”
