He still didn't know who the everyone was, nor did he know a where for the killing.
From what the colonel said, the when must be getting close. The who that would be do the killing was pretty clear. Scores of men walked around the camp with long rifles or short machine pistols slung in front of them.
Bronc so wanted to get another note off to Cara, but knew better than to even think of it. He was getting music on his new computer in areas he had no idea how to interpret. This place had electronic security like he'd never dreamed of.
No question, Abby and the chief had given him a whole lot more computer than he knew how to use.
Maybe, if he listened to it, he'd manage to stay alive.
41
Kris slept amazingly well that night, and was halfway through her morning jog with the Marines when Nelly ruined her day.
''Inspector Johnson just took an encrypted call from someone. He is parked in front of the embassy.''
Kris considered dropping out of the morning run, then decided that the good inspector could just wait. In the fullness of time, a Marine company in full-battle rattle, trailed by a platoon of very sweaty sailors, double-timed up to the embassy's front door.
Kris fell out when Gunny gave the order. While the Marines trotted off to quarters, Kris and her team, with Captain DeVar at their elbow, turned to face the inspector.
''It still looks like you're ready to invade my planet,'' the inspector started off. So much for small talk.
''My orders are strictly defensive,'' Captain DeVar said, when Kris tossed him the question with a nod of her head.
''Though you could hardly do worse with his Marines than you're doing by yourself,'' Penny added.
That drew a frown from the local cop. He fixed Kris with a stare. ''What do you know?''
''Good Morning, Inspector, and a fine one your planet is offering us, isn't it,'' Kris said, insisting on some friendly chitchat before the heavy stuff.
''I wouldn't know about the morning. I didn't sleep much last night.''
''Get to the bottom of all your boxes?'' Kris asked, cheerily.
''No. And now I have all kinds of people arguing over jurisdiction.'' He snorted. ''Some of them I didn't think were even supposed to know about the boxes. Do I owe you for that?''
Kris shrugged. ''Eden is very good about keeping its secrets, Inspector. Very good except when it is very bad. Doesn't seem to be anywhere in the middle.''
The inspector turned and walked across the broad driveway of the embassy. Kris followed, her crew on sniper lookout.
In the middle of the parking lot, he turned on her and whispered. ''I need to know what you know.''
Kris nodded…and gave him an accurate answer that probably had nothing to do with his question. ''Eden is going to have to change. The corruption, the secrecy, the marginalizing of some of your best can't go on.''
''Says you, and anyone who isn't a complete fool,'' snapped the inspector. ''You have a penny solution or have you invested a whole dime in the problem of making it happen?''
Kris shrugged, not at all surprised by his reaction. ''I'm just a tourist giving you my observation. The status quo on Eden has very little time left. Eden will either change itself or be changed by those who don't care a fig for her.''
''Thanks for your helpful advice,'' the inspector growled and looked ready to storm away.
And Kris chose to gamble that he was as sincere as his voice had been. ''They plan to kill everyone,'' she said.
The inspector stopped before his second stomp and whirled back to face Kris. ''Who is going to kill all of who?''
''I don't know.''
''Can't you get back to your source?''
''What was sent to us was sent at great personal risk. No, I am not going to demand more.''
''You trust this source?''
''I have no reason not to.''
''That's an interesting conclusion from someone who's been on the planet less than a month.''
''Take it as you will.''
''They are going to kill everyone,'' the inspector repeated.
''Whoever the ‘they' are and whoever the ‘everyone' are. Assuming the ‘they' can pull it off.''
''When?''
''Your guess is as good as mine, Inspector.''
He shook his head and began pacing. ''There is no way that any ‘they' can kill ‘everyone.' ''
Kris eyed the inspector. The answer to that question had slapped her in the face only moments after the intel. How could the inspector not see what she saw?
''I've been invited to a reception this evening. I'm told everyone who is anyone will be there,'' she said slowly.
Inspector Johnson glanced up from his pacing. ''Yes, the reception at the National Gallery of the Arts. I know about that.''
''Everyone who is anyone?'' Kris repeated.
He shook his head forcefully. ''Not a chance. Vice President McLyndon had me review security on the place. It will be airtight. That's why we use the Gallery for those things. The actual building is solid stone. The gardens and arboretum around it give us open kill fields. You're as safe there as in your mother's arms.''
Did the inspector know just how much Kris did not care for that imagery?
''I can't tell you how glad that makes me feel,'' Kris said, pouring as much sarcasm as she could manage into ''glad.''
''Trust me, you don't have anything to worry about tonight.''
Kris glanced at Jack and DeVar. Between them they'd come up with dozens of lines of assault on that big stone hulk. Did Johnson know something they didn't? Or was he totally unable to weigh the power of a modern assault team against it?
At her father's knee, Kris had learned that there are none so blind as those with eyes but unwilling to see. By high school, Kris had her own way of putting it: There was no way to solve a problem for people who didn't know they had one.
Clearly, Inspector Johnson was a man with a problem that he wanted Kris to help him solve. But the National Gallery was not that problem.
Maybe he was right.
Kris shrugged and said, ''Thank you. I feel so much better about tonight already,'' and almost made it sound sincere.
''You have any other ideas?''
Kris glanced at her team. They slowly shook their heads.
''Well, you let me know if you have any other information. Maybe your source is wrong about that ‘killing everyone.' ''
''Maybe,'' Kris said. ''You find any more weapons dumps?''
''No. Maybe that was the only one. I think we've put a solid stop on that. Maybe we're already on the downward slope of this crisis. Who knows?''
''Optimists have fewer ulcers,'' Penny said.
''Pessimists live longer,'' Jack said softly as the inspector drove away.
''Captain, better have your tech team go over the approaches to the Gallery as soon as possible. Use Nelly's best scouts. We can't afford to have you run into good guys in your approach march.''
''Blue on blue is truly a waste of good effort,'' Captain DeVar agreed.
''So, now you feeling better about tonight,'' Penny said with a grin.
''I sure do,'' Kris answered. ''My stomach's down to less than a hundred flip-flops per minute.''
42
Kris waited until almost seven to call the ambassador. And did it from her tub as Abby poured water over her head.
''Mr. Ambassador, I think you're going to have to leave without me. I'm running late.'' Her statement was not quite drowned out by a sprayer working soap suds out of her hair.
''How will you get to the reception if I leave you?'' He didn't sound all that worried. Kris had never been told why Sammy wanted to leave a full two hours early, but she suspected this might be the height of his social season.
Apparently, even Wardhaven's ambassador didn't get to see the real power on Eden all that often. That was something she ought to mention to Father when next they met.
''Oh, don't worry. I rented that love boat that Vicky Peterwald has been riding around in for the last week or more. This time I'm showing up in the biggest limo.''