Desh had compiled a list of Frey’s friends—of which there were basically none—and people who knew him well. Almost all would be contacted and interviewed over the phone, but Vernal, Utah was close enough to reach by car, and nothing could take the place of a face-to-face interview. Besides, Griffin was on a plane, so this would give Kira some alone time, which was good for relationships no matter how loving the couple.
And it was especially good for him right now. He was finding it hard to maintain the fiction with Kira that nothing had changed between them. He could chalk it up to stress, but he had to find a way to shake off the misgivings he now had. It was possible that the intent of Kira’s alter ego was relatively harmless, and he was misreading things. And he was certain that the woman he loved was still the woman he loved, unaware of what her altered self was doing. Even so, there were subtle differences in their relationship that she would pick up on if he wasn’t careful. He loved her, but feared and distrusted what might be lurking inside. While making love to a woman who’d been bitten by a werewolf, it was almost impossible not to cast an anxious glance up at the moon on occasion—afraid to be caught off guard when it became full.
“So you’re here to learn more about Eric Frey, correct?” said Dr. Cohen.
“That’s right,” replied Desh. “I understand that you worked with Dr. Frey fairly extensively at USAMRIID for a number of years.”
“I did.”
“What was he like at work?”
Cohen hesitated. “Can I speak freely?”
Desh smiled warmly. “That’s what we’re here for,” he assured him. “Whatever you say will be kept in strict confidence.”
“Well, I hate to disparage the dead, um, you know . . . who can’t exactly defend themselves . . . but in my opinion, Frey was a psychopathic asshole. And that was on his good days.”
“Go on,” said Desh.
“He was pure poison. But he was talented poison, I’ll give him that. And he was a political maestro. He would backstab, cheat, suck-up, badmouth colleagues, take credit for the work of others—you name it. Anything to further his career. He could lie with more conviction, and less sense of shame, than I could tell the truth. And he could be charming when he wanted to be. He’d be smiling at you while he slipped the knife in your back, and he was so good at it you had to be stabbed five or six times before it really sunk in that it wasn’t accidental.”
“You’re obviously aware that he was a serial pedophile,” said Desh. “And he was thought to be involved in other illegal activities as well.”
Cohen nodded.
“Did you suspect anything when you were working with him?”
Cohen shrank back in disgust. “If I had any idea of how big a monster this guy really was, I would have turned him in in an instant. Pedophilia is the most horrible crime there is, in my opinion. But you know how a lot of guys, they turn out to be pedophiles or serial killers and the cops interview the neighbors, and they say, wow, who’d have ever thought it? Seemed like such a nice guy. Well, with this guy, you would have thought it. I had no idea he preyed on kids, but after it came out, it didn’t surprise me at all.” he shook his head. “I’ll tell you what does surprise me, though. That he committed suicide. That I would have never guessed.”
Perfect, thought Desh. Rub it in some more, why don’t you. “Why is that?” he asked.
“Suicide indicates remorse, and after several years working with this nut job, this wasn’t in his lexicon. Pedophiles aren’t treated well in prison, as you know. I understand that. But I’d have expected him to flee to an island somewhere and prey on kids there.”
“This is helpful,” said Desh. “We’re trying to build as complete a profile of him as we can. So anything and everything you can tell us about him would be huge. Favorite sports teams? Did he smoke? Any unusual foods he liked? Was he into opera? Nascar? Did he collect wooden ducks? Favorite restaurants? Type of books he read?” He paused. “Nothing is too trivial.”
“I’ll tell you everything I can remember, and point you to some other people you should speak with. But I don’t get it. I mean the guy’s dead. How will a complete profile on him help you in your investigation? ”
“You’d be surprised,” said Desh with just a hint of a smile.
***
Kira Miller sat at her desk in front of a computer, once again attending to administrative duties, the only person present in the large headquarters facility that principally provided housing for the core council. She had booked hexads at the facility, and in the enhancement room, for several months in advance—with the next group due on site in two days—but she had a few slots that had been booked by members of Rosenblatt’s hexad that she needed to reassign until they were ready to resume their activities.
Given the loss of the decoy building, the flurry of activity the alien craft had set in motion, and the new threats against Icarus that had grown like weeds in recent weeks, recruitment, which had been slow previously, was now stopped in its tracks.
She turned her thoughts to Anton van Hutten. He was the first member of what would be a new hexad, but they weren’t about to wait until the full unit had been recruited. He was a star, their great hope to finally conquer faster-than-light travel. In the short time since his first enhancement, he had already been back twice, and was scheduled for two more visits next week. She just hoped he wasn’t tapped to be part of Copernicus, which had been on the news nonstop since this world cooperative effort was first announced.
Kira heard a faint shuffling behind her and twisted around in shock to see what it was. “Anton?” she said in confusion, recognizing the cherubic-faced physicist immediately. “I was just thinking of you,” she added.
“Hi Kira,” he said as he continued to walk toward her.
Van Hutten had been here only yesterday, but he wasn’t scheduled again until next week. Had one of the core council changed the schedule and failed to notify her? Highly unlikely. And even if they had, who had brought him here?
Something was horribly wrong.
As she struggled to understand what was happening, van Hutten pulled a stun gun from his pocket and pointed it at her.
Her eyes widened. “How did you find the facility?” she asked, instinctively stalling, trying to establish a connection, trying to get him talking.
“I hid a tiny GPS locater here the last time I visited. Your cloak and dagger attempts to keep this location secret only work until one of us actively tries to find it. Then it’s easy.”
Kira tensed, ready to spring from her chair and dive on van Hutten the moment he let down his guard. “But why? What is this all abo—”
Twin electrodes shot like harpoons from van Hutten’s weapon and attached to her shirt, stopping her in mid-sentence. She convulsed and slid to the ground, unconscious.
When she regained her senses five minutes later she was lying on her back on the floor, and there was no sign of her attacker. Her mouth was covered in duct tape and her arms were crossed tightly against her chest.