“What were you looking for, specifically?”
“Extremophiles — organisms that thrive in ultrahostile environments.”
“And why?”
“We need new antibiotics, and they might be a good source.”
“Did you find any?”
“I retrieved viable samples of one.”
“When did you start back out?”
“We had been in the cave five days by then. I don’t know the date.”
“What was the condition of your party?”
“Devan Halsted was having trouble with the vertical pitches. And he had severe diarrhea, which weakened him.”
“What happened to Dr. Halsted?”
“He fell trying to rappel a cliff face.”
“How far?”
“A hundred and fifty feet.”
Luciano’s expression changed for the first time. “In a cave?”
“A supercave,” Hallie corrected. “That’s not really big for such a cave. Five-hundred-foot walls are common.”
“Do you know what caused his death?”
“The landing.”
He looked up, but her expression remained serious. “Sorry. Let me rephrase. What caused his fall?”
“It appeared that he set up his rappel rack incorrectly. It’s called the death rig.” He gave her a yellow pad and she sketched. “We buried Devan and climbed up until we couldn’t go any farther. We had to rest.”
“How well did you know Dr. Halsted?”
“I hadn’t met either of them until just before the expedition. They knew each other. I’m not sure if it was work or personal. But whichever, Kurt did not deal well with Devan’s death.”
“Is that common? For strangers to undertake an expedition like this?”
“Yes. Often you need scientists in specific disciplines with unusual skills, like diving or climbing. In this case, it was caving. You get used to working with new people.”
“You said Dr. Ely wasn’t dealing well with the other man’s death?”
“He felt responsible.”
Luciano’s head came up again. “Really? Why?”
She explained.
Luciano said, “Did you agree with him?”
“I didn’t tell him that. It could have sent him over the edge, and I needed him stable enough to get out. But he was right, technically. Protocol requires a senior caver to check gear of the less experienced.”
“Please go on.”
“I went to sleep, and when I woke up Kurt was gone. He left a note, which I believe you have.”
“I do,” Luciano answered. “What do you think happened to Dr. Ely?”
“I think the note says it. He was overcome with grief and guilt.”
“That hardly seems reason enough to take his own life.”
“Have you ever been in a big cave?”
“I’m claustrophobic. I can’t even think about it.”
“They affect you in strange ways.”
“I’m not following.”
“It’s hard to explain. But one thing they do is amplify emotions.”
“So Dr. Ely’s guilt might have been exaggerated?”
“His grief, too.”
“Why didn’t you go after Dr. Ely?”
She explained about the twenty-four-hour wait.
“Was a rescue operation mounted at any point?” Luciano asked.
“I understand they requested one when we were overdue. That Mexican team arrived at base camp about when I came out. Good thing, too.”
“This extremophile you brought back. Does it have a name?”
“Not a scientific name yet. We called it Bloody Mary. It’s a red, viscous material.”
“Is it rare?”
“It could be a totally new species. We’ll know soon.”
“Is it very valuable?”
“It’s most likely a primitive, prehistoric organism, Agent Luciano. It might have been living in that cave for a million years.”
“But new antibiotics … a huge market if it works, I’d assume?”
“A huge if,” Hallie said. “And possibly years away. But yes, new drugs could be very valuable.”
“Thank you.” Luciano switched off the recorder.
“So what happens now?”
“Senior counsel review.”
“And then?”
“One of two recommendations. Case closed. Or referral to the U.S. attorney.”
“And then what would happen?”
Luciano shrugged. “Beyond my pay grade, Dr. Leland.”
Luciano gave her a card. “My cell number is written on the back. Call me if you remember anything that might be important.” He started for the door, then stopped.
“One last thing, Dr. Leland.”
“Yes?”
“Would you be willing to take a polygraph test?”
“Polygraph?” She hesitated, but had nothing to hide. “I guess so. But why?”
“Thank you for your time. Someone will be in touch.”
6
Later that morning, Hallie’s chiming cell phone woke her. The caller ID showed “Stephen Redhorse, MD.”
“You were in the Post this morning: ‘Government Expedition Turns Tragic.’ I didn’t know you’d come back. Why didn’t you call me?” He sounded more irritated than concerned.
“Too tired and too beat up,” she said, though those weren’t the only reasons.
“How are you?”
“Not so bad. Maybe a mild concussion. I should be out later today. Where are you?”
“In the hospital. My hospital.”
“How’s D.C. General today?”
“The ER is insane. Cops say that the Latin Kings took a huge coke shipment from Mexico and are dealing on Crip turf. It’s a shooting war out there.”
“Sounds like the reservation.” She regretted that immediately.
For a moment he didn’t reply. “You know those poor Indians can’t afford AK-47s. Rusty old shotguns, more like,” he added sarcastically. “Will you take some time off?”
“A week,” she said. “Boss’s orders.”
“I’m surprised you can stand being out of the lab that long.”
“I haven’t even unpacked my expedition gear. There’s plenty to do.”
“Look, I didn’t come right over because we have so many emergency cases and I’ve been sleeping here and …”
“Don’t apologize. People there need you more than I do.” The silence stretched, and she thought, Why is it so easy to say the wrong thing now?
“I would like to see you, though,” he said.
“When’s your next day off?”
“Thursday. Always subject to change, of course.”
“Come out to the house Thursday evening, then. We’ll have a drink and catch up.”
Stephen Redhorse was a tall, full-blooded Oglala Sioux with obsidian eyes and a black ponytail. They had become friends at Johns Hopkins, where she was working on her doctorate in microbiology and Redhorse on his in physics. He had dropped out of that program before earning his PhD and entered George Washington University’s medical school.
“I can do a lot more for my people with that than with a physics doctorate,” he’d told Hallie. After earning his MD, he elected to specialize in emergency medicine and spent the last two years in D.C. General Hospital’s ER, as close to a MASH unit as any American city had produced.
After Hallie came to work in Washington, they reunited as friends and before long became lovers. They’d been seeing each other that way for nine months when, one evening over steaks at the Old Ebbitt Grill, he’d said, “I think you should meet my family.”
He had never mentioned them, and she wasn’t really at the meet-my-parents stage. Redhorse was handsome, bright, and liked the outdoors. He did good work at one of the nation’s worst hospitals, when he could have had a posh Georgetown practice. He was mostly gentle and considerate in bed.