“Man, lucky is the word. I need to thank that guy. Is Karen okay? I forgot everything I learned about cold water out there tonight.”
“Well, not everything. Yeah, she’s gonna be okay. Not harmed physically.
Scared shitless, mentally. That was a bad ride she took.”
In a body bag. This guy is a serious whacko.”
Mcnair eased his notebook out of his pocket. “Speaking of whackos,” he said. “How many were there? Commander Lawrence says she thinks two, but she never saw them.”
“Two,” Train said. “I think. It was dark out there, but I’m pretty sure I saw two figures in that boat. They went upriver, by the way.”
“Actually, they went across the river.”
“Huh?”
“To the Maryland side, where they apparently hauled their little bitty boat up to the C&O canal and then shagged ass down the canal, locks and all, back toward Washington.
A Washington co’p car responded to an intrusion alarm at the Washington Canoe Club and got there in time to see a boat shooting out into the middle of the river under Key Bridge.”
“They follow ‘em?”
“Hell no. The D.C. harbor police boat was broke-dick at the pier. Busted like everything in the District is these days.
So whoever they were got clean-ass away. Commander Lawrence told us something interesting, though, about the initial grab.”
“Where did it happen?”
, Down at the barn, like you figured. But she said that she was going into one of the rooms in the barn, and this black glove appeared in front of her face and then a very intense, very bright purple-red flash.
Next thing she knew, she was trussed up in that bag. She thinks they took her upstairs to the haystack and carved out a burial chamber in the hay.
Anyway, about that light: Any ideas, G-man?”
Train sat back against the pillows for a moment and closed his eyes. “So she was there all the time.”
“Apparently. Now about that bright purple-red flash?”
Train hesitated. “That sounds like a retinal disrupter.”
Mcnair’s eyes had a speculative look in them. “Come again, Spock?”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve never seen one, but I’ve heard of them. It’s an optical weapon-like an electronic flash-bang grenade, minus the bang. It emits a blast of light centered on the color frequency of a particular group of rods and cones in the human eye. Puts the brain in stimulus-overload condition. Total disorientation for about a minute.
Plenty of time to disable a guy. Or wrap somebody and stuff him in a car, or a bag.”
Mcnair was making notes. “And which government organization carries these nasties?”
“Silly question, Detective.”
“I knew that,” Mcnair said. “Okay. Docs say they’ll probably let you out after morning rounds. Your dog’s down at the Maryland Staties’ K-9 unit kennels. That’s a barracks out on the Bladensburg Road, and one of my people retrieved your Suburban. It’s out front.”
“Thanks. Where’s Karen?’ “Down the hall, actually. They admitted her.
Gave her a sedative, and they’ve got a shrink laid on for the A.m. Like I said, they didn’t hurt her, physically. She must be one selfcontrolled lady. I’d a gone snakeshit, mummied up like that.”
Train shook his head. “Assuming this was Galantz, I’ve conjured up a theory about why he snatched her.”
Mcnair closed his notebook and raised his eyebrows.
“This guy is after Sherman,” Train said. “She’s been with Sherman, and he probably thinks they’re an item.
Maybe he thinks she’s Elizabeth Walsh’s replacement. Grab , then lure Sherman to some dark and lonely place. Have some fun with both of them.”
Mcnair grinned at him. “And?”
“And what? What’s funny?”
Mcnair tapped his notebook once with his fingertips and stood up, stretching. “And,” he said. “Optical weapons.
Telephone bugs with built-in transceivers. Like you said, those are federal toys.” He paused. “We found the place up in the haystack where they hid her. Probably hid themselves there, too, all day-the whole time we were there looking. Your theory doesn’t read, G-man. This is a steelyeyed motherfucker. He could have had Sherman’s ass anytime he wanted to. You wouldn’t be holding back on me by any chance?”
“Moi?”
“Yeah, you, G-man. Like, for starters, who was the second guy?”
Train let out a breath and frowned. He kept underestimating Mcnair. But he was also very reluctant to tell him anything about Jack.Sherman.
Besides, after what Galantz had done to Karen, Train personally wanted a shot at him.
“I’m not holding back, Mcnair,” he replied. “But my bosses might be.
Didn’t you tell me you scrubbed Admiral Sherman’s personal scene?”
“Yeah. Clean, just like he said. Except that he’s now considerably richer than he was. Although it’s interesting that two hundred fifty large came and went already.”
“The money’s gone?”
“Yeah. Says he gave it to some Catholic charity.”
Train nodded, thinking about that locked investigation report. “I’m going to pull the same string, but inside Navy channels. I’ll share anything I find. Promise.” He put a sincere expression on his face, hoping the lie was plausible.
But Mcnair was shaking his head from side to side in mock wonder. “Sure you will,” he said. “Tomorrow’s Thursday. How’s about we meet, say Friday? Pull it all together.
“We can try,” Train said. “My mind has all these earnest plans, but my aging body is probably going to disappoint both of us.”
Mcnair laughed. Then he got up, went to the door, and looked both ways up and down the corridor. He came back over to the bed and pulled Train’s Glock and knife out from under his jacket. “Here,” he said. “The ER turned these over to us.” He gave Train a steady look, one bespeaking years of experience as a cop. He held the gun in his right hand, pointed down toward the floor. Train felt a spike of fear as he looked into Mcnair’s eyes. For just an instant, the friendly detective had been replaced with someone else.
“Keep the Glock handy, G-man,” Mcnair was saying.
“Me, personally? I think you’re in over your head.” He reversed the gun, handed it and the knife to Train, then turned and left the room.
Train lay back on the bed after Mcnair had gone, the Glock lying cold between his thighs under the covers. Nurse brings a bedpan, he mused, it’s gonna be a contest to see who pees first. This thing tonight had been close. If that Park Police helo hadn’t been airborne, he would have gone sailing over that dam fight behind Karen and spent the next few months rolling around in the rotor at the foot of the diversion dam, along with the six other people who had drowned there in the past year.
He wondered how well Karen was bearing up. Let’s go find out, he thought.
He opened his eyes and looked around the semiprivate room. The other bed was not in use; the dividing curtain was pulled back against the wall.
He wasn’t hooked up to anything. He found his clothes, still damp, hanging in the bathroom, but he opted for a dry Johnny from the closet.
He tucked the Glock and the knife between two towels on the closet shelf and went to find some coffee and then, hopefully, Karen.
Karen lay on her back and listened carefully. A moment ago, there had been a scratching sound on the door to her darkened room, as if something or someone wanted in. A scratching sound, she was sure of it.
Her body was tense, almost rigid, but she was very warm, sweaty. She wanted to push her damp hair out of her face, but her arms were leaden.
She worried about that sound. She could see a rim of subdued light framing the door to her room, especially at the bottom. She focused on the bottom, watching that line of light. There, a shadow. Then it was gone. She closed her eyes and then opened them again. Everywhere she looked, there was a curious red-purple halo. She had seen that before, but she couldn’t remember where. She wanted to close her eyes again, but she was scared she would miss something, whatever had scratched on the door. She stared at the line of light until her eyes hurt, then remembered to breathe.