shaped Ernie's thinking.
Within several hours of the shooting Sam's team of local private investigators, all ex-cops, some New York city, some Feds, had begun their own preliminary investigation. It might be tough to prove that Gaudet was behind the shoot ing, but they did demonstrate to Sam's satisfaction that it was a setup and Gaudet was the man with the motivation.
Sam passed his Robert Chase picture ID to the woman in the glass booth. Chase was well known to the FBI. Under that ID he was listed as a top informant and always received a welcome reception from any agent with a computer. Without a special access code a field agent could not access any of Sam's aliases or the name on his birth certificate. Sam had seven aliases, but only three were deep aliases complete with a Social Security number. Possession of three Social Security numbers was the only illegal facet of Sam's aliases, but it was administratively approved for two of them through a slightly unusual use of the witness protection program. As to the third, Sam simply told the government to concentrate on the intelligence they received through his offices. To date that had cured their bureaucratitis.
Sam gave up his gun and his permit to carry it at the front desk.
He was ushered into the office of Special Agent Bud Cross.
The man had a pinched, narrow face, was balding, sported a bushy mustache, and wore wire-framed glasses. The blue eyes looked at him with something less than warmth.
They shook hands.
'I will be honest with you, Mr. Chase, or whatever your name really is. I don't care for special people. I like regular ones. However, the bosses in DC say extend every courtesy and so you shall have every courtesy of this office. I just want you to know where I stand. Cops should be cops and everybody else should be a civilian-that's my personal bias and not the official view of
the FBI.'
'I think it's the view of most conscientious field agents, and I respect it,' Sam said. 'I'm really here as a civilian.'
'We've gone over the shooting thoroughly. DC is all over my ass because it was Anna Wade and not some chambermaid. And we can't find a thing to substantiate your theory. Two guys with a history get in a street fight and start shooting. They have some drugs in them. Not a lot, but enough.'
'Very convenient. Two guys just start shooting at each other for no reason. They shoot way wide, missing each other, then go to an alley and kill each other simultaneously. Think about it.'
'These nuts do that stuff all the time. They're paranoid once they get a grudge going.'
'They fight, sure. But two guys don't often simultaneously shoot each other. More likely, that was staged,' Sam said.
'Yeah, well, we've leaned on several gang members and everyone says these two hated each other.'
'That's why they were pointed out by the leader to create the charade. Gaudet made a logical selection.'
'The gang members we talked to say this isn't the first time these two have shot at each other.'
'Look. Those two kids were being used. I know it was the work of the man I've described to you.'
'Perhaps, but they are both dead. Preliminary ballistics tests confirm the bullets that hit you and Anna Wade didn't come from the two thugs' guns. But they got away from the scene. One of them might have had a second gun and that gun may not have been fired into the surrounding buildings. Or there might have been a third shooter involved in the melee. Of course both those options are unlikely. Ballistics supports your sniper theory, but we have nothing more at this point. Nobody saw anything except two guys shooting on the street.'
Sam didn't say anything, hoping for more, for something else.
'Look, I'm sympathetic. We're doing a lot of forensic work on the bodies. Maybe we'll find someone who knew about a setup. Maybe they talked to somebody. Right now we have nothing but your instincts and a mysterious ballistics test.'
'Whatever you can do, I appreciate it.'
'You're not going to take the law into your own hands?' Cross was concerned.
'I'm going to do my job, nothing more and nothing less.' But despite his words, there was a deadly single- minded de termination in Sam and nothing anyone could say or do would change that.
When he hit the street, he called the nurses' station and spoke with Lydia, the nurse he had befriended. Anna's con dition hadn't changed, but her color looked good and they were still full of hope, Lydia said. He would call back in a few hours.
'I'm sorry, Sam,' Grogg began the phone conversation. It was the way everyone from the office started. It was hard to go on working and act normally while Anna lay in a coma. Sam wasn't quite sure how to deal with it, right down to the condolences. He couldn't stop thinking of her, seeing her lying there, so still.
'I appreciate your thoughts, Grogg. I'm sure Anna does too. I wish I could put the world on hold and be with Anna, but since I can't, I just keep chugging as best I can. So, tell me, have you turned anything up?'
'Yeah, something important.'
Sam could hear the excitement in his voice.
'What is it?'
'Just a minute.'
Sam then heard Jill pick up on a second line.
'Sam, we got an e-mail message from someone in the French government, probably their Senate, purporting to relay a message from Benoit Moreau. It says 'I can help you disinfect Cordyceps and deliver Chaperone.' '
'Did you say yes?' Sam said, absolutely amazed.
'We couldn't get hold of you, so we winged it and said 'Absolutely yes.' '
'Good answer. How the heck did she send the message?'
'E-mail. It was sent to firechiefatbluehades. com.'
Sam's mind tumbled as to how such a thing could be pos sible.
'Guess she put one over on us, Sam.'
'I gave that to Anna Wade, the CIA, a few other people. Wait a minute. The CIA. Figgy might know that e- mail. He could have told his clients, the French. Benoit Moreau is one of the best information gatherers in the world and she prob ably talked it out of some French agent right after she screwed him. That's Benoit Moreau.'
'And why would someone in the French Senate want to relay a message from a convicted criminal? It could be a setup or a feint by Gaudet to mislead.'
'True. But I don't see the harm in saying yes. Good job. Let me know when you get a response.'
'There's more. We couldn't get hold of you at all, so we wrote a second response.'
'What did you say.'
' 'How can we help?' '
'Good answer.'
'You won't believe what she or rather her friends an swered.'
'I am all ears.'
' 'Monitor uaeromtioneb. net//exchange. Meet you in New York.' Signed 'Caterpillar.' Then we got no more.'
'It wasn't easy monitoring that site,' Grogg chimed in. 'You have to have a password. Rollin's password quit work ing the day he died.'
'But that wouldn't stop you, would it?'
'Hell no.'
'So what did you do?'
'I downloaded Figgy's computer.'
'You what?'
'I downloaded his computer awhile back and just re cently pulled it up on Big Brain and hit gold.'
'That's inexcusable. Actually, it's outrageous. What did you get?'
'His correspondence isn't saved and he has special soft ware that scrambles it beyond recognition no matter what you do. But I got protocols for getting onto certain limited segments of the SDECE server. I was able to do the best hacking of my life and log on to the computer of Jean- Baptiste Sourriaux, a commandant apparently assigned di rectly for at least some purposes to Admiral Larive, the big tuna. For some reason Jean-Baptiste had the
