Tam snapped her computer shut. “There’s no point in arguing. My mind is made up.”
Kip gritted her teeth. “You think this is arguing? You ain’t seen nothing yet. Where are you going to get fake ID? Do you know how long it takes? I even know how they’re made and how to spot them.”
“What I know is that anything can be bought if you have cash.” For the first time Tam looked uncertain.
“You need me and my Secret Service handbook. You need someone whose been in the field recently,” Kip said, not bothering to hide the triumph in her voice. “I actually know someone who knows someone who can have two decent looking driver’s licenses in twelve hours.”
Okay, that was a bit of a lie. She was guessing Buck knew someone. She added, “And I know someone who knows someone who’s a private cargo pilot. Flies out fresh seafood and the occasional grunge band to a gig. Would probably hop us to Boise.
It’s not the kind of information you’ve been seeing in reports.”
Tam chewed on her lower lip. Kip could tell she was unhappy.
“I don’t want you to lose more than you already have.”
Kip let the silence stretch, not sure that the truth would help. What was the point in saying that she had so much more to gain than to lose when all basis for the statement was from her irrational heart and really uncooperative body?
170
She opted for the other truth, the one that shouldn’t have been but was vastly less important to her now. “You’re still my suspect. I’m still trying to prove you’re guilty...or not. I can’t justify to anyone letting you go anywhere on your own. I show up Monday morning without you, knowing what I know? The FBI isn’t going to want to hear a word I say until they catch you. I know I’m already guilty of bending my job more than I should. I’ve already violated the SFI code of conduct a half dozen ways, but deciding on a course of action and seeing it through is going to fly better than looking like I didn’t have a plan. Like I let my intuition...and, and well, other feelings...run right over the facts.”
“And this is your plan? Go down the drain with me?”
“If I have to.” She’d go anywhere, she thought, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “Don’t ask me to be less than I am.”
“Let’s get one thing clear then.” Tam wasn’t smiling. “I’m not your sidekick.”
Kip didn’t smile either. “We each have our own agenda and needs, so okay. If you’re not the sidekick, neither am I.”
They went back to work in a stony silence that Kip welcomed.
At least it meant her libido wasn’t operating and that made it easier to think. She plunked another employee key card number into the internal database, pulled up the employee social security number and mined the credit bureau site for banking references.
No brand-new vacation homes, no out of country travel, blah, blah, blah. Another dead end.
Just like with numbering exhibits, she kept at it, search after search, methodically crossing names off the list and noting every result in her work log.
She was forty-six names down and eight to go when she hit a snag. Frowning, she tried the search on the key card again.
She broke the long silence with, “I’ve got a key card that’s not linking to an employee.”
“That’s not possible,” was the clipped reply.
She said nothing as she rhythmically drummed her fingers on her keyboard.
171
“It’s not supposed to be possible,” Tam finally amended.
She read the key card number to Tam, who quickly confirmed her findings then muttered about the transmission speed of the connection. “Someone inserted the key card number into the database and then turned off the warning. Clumsy again—sooner or later someone issuing key cards was going to realize that the card-employee matchup safeguard wasn’t working.”
“Whoever this is knew they only had to hold the scheme together for about two months.”
“So that’s all been no help at all. Person unknown with a fake key card gets into the accounting file area and does the doctoring of the paper statements.”
Kip nodded. “The time stamps of the card use are after hours—but not middle of the night. They’d look like someone working late. Of course, now that I’m looking, I see that the card was never used during working hours. So this is our insider: Jane Smith. Not a clue how we could figure out who that really is.
Likely a woman, but that’s little help.”
“We’d have to find the card. Damn—one big fat dead end.”
“So...”
Tam looked at her inquiringly.
“You got a swimsuit?”
She pursed her lips. “I refuse to laugh.”
“Oh, c’mon.” Kip’s stomach growled. “I might not be the sidekick, but sometimes I’m the quirky comic relief.”
Her reward was the tiniest twitch of one side of Tam’s mouth.
It was enough for now.
“Burgers, and I know where there’s a land line. I can make a call to someone about the IDs we need.”
She wasn’t sure what Tam was going to say, but her stomach growled loudly enough for Kip to hear, right on cue. Burgers it was.
172
Chapter thIrteeN
Listening to Kip on the phone with her sister Kim had given Tam new insights into how Kip had become the woman she was.
Listening to her wrangle with some guy named Buck was another revelation—and quite entertaining.
“I know you know someone. You watch Dark Angel every night, same episodes. The electromagnetic pulse is coming, so don’t tell me you haven’t figured out a way to get out of town under another name. No, but I’ll give you a finder’s fee later. No, you have to wait for it.” She listened.
Just when Tam thought Kip’s eyes couldn’t roll any further back in her head, she snorted and said, “What part of ‘I need a fake ID in a hurry’ don’t you understand? I don’t have time to drop off a muffin basket and shower you with cash. I’ll make it up to you. You know that I’ve never not come through for you.”
Kip glared at the phone. “Yes, this is a Girl Scout thing. So 173
where is this artiste? Lake Oswego, you mean in Oregon? No, I don’t know of another one. Address? Oh please—give me a break. A winery? Your sister?”
Kip gave Tam an incredulous look. Tam hoped her skepticism showed. “Call me back at this number. Land line of course. Who did you think you were dealing with?”
The number for their order was called and Tam returned to the car with a fragrant bag of fried goodies just as Kip got in as well.
“So he’s calling his sister, who apparently is actually a winemaker, but makes a little ka-ching on the side with candid photography. If this works out, it’s actually good news. The charter I was hoping we could buy our way onto flies out of Portland from the municipal airport. We have to share space with crates of shellfish.”
Tam considered every word Kip was saying, weighing the possibilities, but she was somewhat distracted by the sound Kip made when she bit into the burger. Their dinner was good eats, she quite agreed, but that sound... If Kip made noises like that over good food, what would she sound like over something even more pleasurable?
Tam would hate to be compared to a bacon burger and found wanting.
Not that anything was going to happen, she reminded herself.
Kip made the noise again.
At least her worry that she was dragging Kip into a bad place had her thinking like a boss again. She was the responsible party, ultimately.
The phone rang and Kip shoved her food onto the dashboard and hurried to catch it. “Thank you for calling me. Yes, that’s what I’m looking for.” Kip glanced at her watch. “By eleven at the latest. Okay. Well, since I’m asking for fake IDs I’m not sure what my word is worth. Oh. I see. Well then, I swear on the soul of Martina Navratilova.”