“Thank you,” I croaked. “For everything.”
“You’re most welcome. Made for an excellent drill before we got out to sea. You were lucky in more than one respect: This was the after-lookout’s very first watch, so he was actually doing his job. Normally, the chances of your being seen down there were those famous twins.”
I knew those twins: Slim and None. “I’d like to express my appreciation to him, then, if I may.”
He whipped out a business card. “Send me a check. His name is Hassam Selim. I’ll see that he gets it.”
I thanked him again, and then we were rounded up for the approaching helicopter ride.
Once at the Wilmington Coast Guard station, we had to endure an interview about what had happened and fill out a dozen or so forms. On the ride over from the ship, I’d thought about how much to reveal. I decided to mostly tell the truth, under the theory that, if questioned again, it would be easier to remember. The young Coast Guard lieutenant listened to my story about going out to sea to meet the Keeper and getting run over instead. He frowned when I was finished, and then asked if we would mind hanging around for a few minutes.
I put a landline call in to Pardee at the beach house and told him what had happened. He said he’d drive up right away. I asked him to notify the marina and to tell them there’d be a Coast Guard incident report to follow. He confirmed that we had purchased full replacement insurance on the boat, so the marina ought not to be too excited. He asked if we should call Quartermain, but I told him to hold off. Then the lieutenant came back into the conference room, accompanied this time by an older officer wearing the stripes of a lieutenant commander. He introduced himself as the station’s operations officer. He had one question: Did we think this was an accident or an intentional crash? I looked at Tony and then told the ops boss that it had to have been intentional. We’d exchanged radio calls, he’d told us to maintain our position, indicating he knew where we were, and we’d watched him come straight toward us on the radar. He’d arrived at the intercept point going full bore, plus, he had to have known he’d hit something, and yet he’d kept on going.
The lieutenant commander nodded and then said that he’d have to report this up his chain of command and that there would be law enforcement people, not to mention the marine insurance company, who would probably have further questions. I told him we were working for the Helios power plant and living temporarily in Southport. We’d be available to talk to anyone who needed more information-but for now, we had a ride coming, we were both beat to shit, and could we please just go home?
Ari Quartermain hung his gleaming black head in his hands and groaned out loud. It was nearly eleven the next morning, and all three of us were sitting in his office, which was not a happy place just then. Neither of us had physically laid eyes on the man driving that boat.
“So that still might be Trask in the lead-lined cookie jar,” he said. “And now someone wants you dead?”
“Sums it up pretty well,” I said. “How’s your week going?”
He glared at me from between splayed fingers. That good.
“The Bureau know all this?”
“They were our next stop,” I said. “I think I ought to tell Creeps before the Coast Guard does. He likes to know shit before anyone else. My cell’s shot. Can I use a phone?”
He pointed to an extension phone on his conference table. I put it on speaker, got out Caswell’s card, and called the RA’s office. I asked for Special Agent Caswell. Not available. I told them we might have located Carl Trask of the Helios power plant. Hold, please. A minute of hissing from the speakerphone. Transferring.
“Mr. Richter,” intoned my favorite voice from my favorite Bureau.
“Special Agent,” I said. “We have developments.”
“I’m all ears,” he said, and then laughed at his own joke. He wasn’t laughing when I’d finished, though, so I tried a little sucking up. “I’m letting you know in advance of the Coast Guard report, which should be hitting the wires this morning.”
“Not so far in advance that your Bureau knew about it before you ventured to sea,” he said.
“You’re always telling me not to bother you with rumors, Special Agent,” I said.
“Mmm-hnnh,” he said. His confidence in me was overwhelming. Tony was rolling his eyes.
“And I must point out,” I said, “I still can’t prove that was Trask driving. All I saw last night was a big bow wave. The voice on the radio sounded like Trask, but…”
“Yes. But.”
“Right,” I said and stopped there, waiting to see what he’d do.
“Tell me, Mr. Richter,” he said. “Did you find anything in your Ms. Gardner’s vehicle that assisted you in your inquiries?”
I looked at Pardee, who shook his head. “Not really,” I said. “Agent Young has everything we laid hands on, and frankly, we’re still stumped.”
“Special Agent Young says she thought she saw a cell phone in the briefcase, but it’s not there now.”
“Beats me,” I said. “If you find it, I’d sure like to see the call log.”
“Mmm-hnnh.”
“Well, that’s the news from the waterfront. Thought you ought to know.”
“What are your intentions now, Mr. Richter?”
“We’re going to keep working the Allie mystery.”
“And your job with Dr. Quartermain?”
“Well, that’s languishing in the Overtaken By Events box with this apparent homicide at the moonpool,” I said. “Dr. Quartermain tells us he has all the help he can stand right now.”
“Is he there right now?”
“Yes, I am,” Ari called from across the office. “Any progress, Special Agent?”
“You will be the second person to know, Dr. Quartermain,” Creeps said. “Mr. Richter? Keep in touch, will you?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “You know me-I keep my Bureau informed as best I can.” Tony and Pardee struggled not to laugh out loud.
“Mmm-hnnh.”
Then the connection was broken. I made sure by punching off the speaker’s power button. I’d been nearly undone one time by a speakerphone I thought was off. I looked over at Ari.
“If that’s not Carl Trask’s body in that container,” I said, “then you’ve got to get an ID of some kind.”
“NRC nuclear medicine people are working on that,” he said. “We’re trying to find something in the physical security office which might have Trask’s DNA on it-coffee cup, a jacket with a hair or two, gloves, you know. If we can do that, they think they can get a core sample from the body.”
“A core sample.” I had visions of the major’s horse syringe on the end of a long broomstick.
“He won’t feel a thing,” he said with a shrug. “The bigger problem, for us, is the unauthorized access issue. I explained that to you, I think.”
I nodded. “Pardee here is a computer science expert,” I said. “If you’d care to walk him through your access system, maybe he could give you a fresh viewpoint. Tony and I have to go back to Southport to meet with the marina’s insurance agent.”
“Appreciate any help I can get,” he said to Pardee.
“Remember the redhead we brought with us that morning at your house?” I asked.
“Indeed.”
“She’s both a computer expert and someone who’s apparently well versed in penetrating federal security systems. I think the feds have her right now. Why don’t you suggest to Special Agent Caswell that they put her on the problem, too.”
“She’s back in custody?” he asked.
“Well, we think so,” I said, ducking a detailed answer. “If he gives you a categorical no, I’d be interested to know why not.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll pull that string for you.”
At that moment, his secretary knocked on the door to tell him that Dr. Petrowska and her assistant were waiting to see him. That was my cue to get gone.