complicated as Basque’s typically last several months. This would drag things out even longer, and all the while Richard Basque would be out of maximum-security prison. Not something I wanted to think about.
Ralph tried to hold back a yawn. Failed.
“Long night?”
“Got in late, plus they lost my bags. Can you believe those-”
Then Ralph filled the air between us with a string of inventive and somewhat profound curses, and I was glad Tessa hadn’t arrived yet after all.
“Well, anyway, it’s good to see you. Brineesha doing OK?”
“I’m a happily married man, she’s a very patient woman. We’re good, Tony too-just turned eleven. Tessa?”
“Witty. Sarcastic. Endearing.” “Good to hear.”
My stomach grumbled, reminding me once again how hungry I was. I looked past Ralph to the bank of elevators. Then it struck me. “Wait a minute. You never answered my question. Why are you in San Diego, anyhow?”
“Margaret has a couple meetings out here on the Coast. She’s-”
“Margaret Wellington is coming to San Diego?” At least for the moment, I’d lost my appetite. Margaret and I get along about as well as two piranhas in the same tank.
“Probably in L.A. right now,” Ralph said, “but she’ll be flying here sometime this afternoon. She’s on some kind of defense committee or something. Guess it goes with the territory of being an executive assistant director, and since I’m heading up the NCAVC for now, she wants to brief me on some policy changes.”
Ralph, Lien-hua, and I all work for the FBI’s National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, and Ralph was currently serving as the division’s interim director while human resources looked for a replacement for Louis Chenault, who’d retired on the first of the year.
“You know how Margaret is,” he continued. “She didn’t want to wait until next week, and since my testimony’s been put off in-definitely, she decided to fly me in.” He picked at his travel-weary, crumpled shirt. “Last night Delta told me my bags were in Minneapolis. Do I look like I’m standing in Minneapolis, Minnesota?”
I sensed that he was winding up for a fresh round of curses, so I said, “I still can’t believe they gave Margaret the position.”
He finished brushing off his shirt. The elevator behind him dinged. “Most power-hungry woman I ever met. But don’t worry; she’s not here to see you. I doubt your paths will even cross.” As the elevator doors began to open, he let a sly smile play across his face.
“Besides, being here in California gives me the chance to keep an eye on you and Lien-hua.” A wink. “Keep you two kids in check.
Know what I mean?” “No,” said one voice from the elevator.
“Why don’t you tell us?” said the other.
First voice: Lien-hua.
Second voice: Tessa.
“Oh.” Ralph’s voice shrank to the size of a mouse. “Good morning, Lien-hua. Hi, Tessa.”
Lien-hua’s arms were folded. “Hello, Ralph. What a surprise.”
An unreadable expression crossed Tessa’s face. “Nice to see you, Uncle Ralph.”
Ralph patted Lien-hua’s shoulder and gave Tessa a quick shoulder hug. “I better go track down those suitcases,” he muttered.
“You boys and girls have fun now.” Then he ambled through the uncomfortable silence and left me alone with the two women and their four raised eyebrows.
I looked from Lien-hua to Tessa. “OK,” I said, “so, who’s hungry? I know I am. Famished. Let’s get in line before they run out of quiche.” Then I hurried off to the hotel’s restaurant, wondering how I’d ever come to the point in my life where I would’ve actually been willing to eat quiche if necessary.
While Creighton watched Cassandra through the video cameras, he thought of spiders crawling across his face and of the videos he’d taken of the women over the years, and he thought of Shade.
Creighton had met some elusive characters over the last ten years, but this guy, Shade, was like a ghost. Every time Creighton thought he might be able to catch a glimpse of him-nothing. Even though Creighton had no idea what it was like to feel fear, he suspected that the growing discomfort he felt whenever he talked to Shade was close to what other humans felt when they were afraid.
A few times over the last two months, Creighton had thought about taking off, just slipping away into the shadows. But two things kept him here: he knew Shade would find him, and Project Rukh really did exist. All the Department of Defense documents that Shade had sent him regarding the project checked out. The device was real. And from everything Creighton had been able to uncover, the prototype really did what Shade said it would.
Building B-14. That was the key to everything.
Freedom or pain?
Pain.
And as Creighton thought of that word, he imagined the meeting he would have with the FBI agent later in the week, and he thought once again of the closure Shade offered.
Everything coming full circle. Yes. Creighton was the perfect one for the job after all.
Shade wanted to keep their communications to a minimum, and Creighton wasn’t expecting to hear from him until three o’clock, so after leaving Cassandra alone again, Creighton pulled out a pair of handcuffs and practiced escaping from them just in case he needed to do so in the next couple days.
Yes. He was the perfect one for the job after all.
26
In line for the brunch buffet, I tried to guide the conversation away from Ralph’s comments as quickly as I could. “So what took you two so long to get downstairs?”
“Shower,” said Tessa.
“I was on the phone with Aina,” said Lien-hua. Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “She told me Austin Hunter wasn’t home, but MAST managed to get a warrant. Aina wants to talk to you.
She said to give her a call as soon as you can. They found gasoline and a professional makeup kit in his spare bedroom.”
I began ticking through the possibilities. Gasoline? I thought we’d eliminated that as the accelerant for the earlier fires. Unless… my mind flashed back to previous arson cases I’d worked over the years
…
Unless…
I saw Tessa grab her plate and I remembered that even though I’d already had a full morning, the last thing she probably remembered was the bloody pork tenderloin and John Doe’s suicide last night.
The arsonist could have mixed it with something to make it burn longer. That would do it.
I was torn; the biggest parts of who I am were wrestling with each other again: the FBI agent part and the dad part. I knew the dad part was supposed to win, and I wanted it to, but I didn’t know exactly what that was supposed to look like in real life. Tessa was busy lifting the metal lids off the chafing dishes to see what was for breakfast.
Sausage links. “Ew.” Then bacon. “You have got to be kidding me.” And finally breakfast patties. “I am so done with this.” She clomped to a nearby spread of fruit and pastries.
Well, she seemed to be acting normal enough. I decided it would be OK to return Aina’s call. I loaded a bowl with oatmeal, and dialed her number.
“Dr. Bowers. Gracias.”
“What do you have, Aina?”
I piled a plate with hash browns and followed my nose to the coffee carafes.
“No sign of Hunter,” she said. “But, it looks like someone broke into his apartment. His dresser drawers were
