Duarte could tell by the way she took command and sent one of her Department of Energy representatives over to the bomb that she was not about to screw anything up. He doubted she ever had.
She saw him through the glass and waved like they were old friends. She motioned him out.
As he reached the door, he heard one of the DOE scientists near the trunk of the Audi say, "That's Marise Tuznia."
Meg stopped her march toward Duarte and said to the man. "And she is?"
"Ukrainian physicist. I thought she taught at Rice or somewhere out here."
Duarte remembered the young man in Omaha who said the plan involved "U-cranes."
Meg said, "They must have killed her after she armed the bomb."
Duarte said, "No." Meg and the DOE man stared at him. "Staub killed her before she could do it. Lina saw the man who worked on the warhead."
Meg nodded. "Thanks. That'll help." She walked closer to him, placing a hand around his waist like they were on a stroll.
She said, "I heard that you may be privy to several things that need to be held in the strictest secrecy."
Duarte remained silent.
Meg said, "We'll worry about that later." She looked around the busy open bay. "You did a fine job here. And I don't just mean for an ATF agent. I mean you did a bang-up job and averted a major catastrophe."
He just stared at her.
"I mean it. You did a good job."
"You, too."
"Yeah, but I expect the FBI to do a good job."
"Glad someone does."
She kept her smile, used to dealing with all sorts. He wondered at her exact position in the FBI, because this woman was a boss even if she didn't broadcast it. She looked like a pretty good boss, too.
She handed Duarte an envelope.
"What's this?"
"Just a note."
"A note?"
She smiled, revealing perfect teeth that could have been a predator's if she wanted them to be. "It's a letter saying you are not allowed to speak about this case or the sources used in this case, mainly William Floyd, for any reason."
"You can do that?"
She caressed his face. "You are so cute." She lowered her hand and looked at him, losing all sense of good humor. "I wouldn't want to see that cute face behind bars for violating the terms of that letter." She turned and nodded to Lina, who had been standing close by. She started walking toward them. As Meg walked away, she called out to Duarte, "I'll be in touch. We'll have a drink."
Duarte was impressed with how the woman had carried out her duty even if he didn't agree with the duty itself.
Lina stopped next to him and said, "I am so sorry about Félix."
Duarte nodded.
She kissed his cheek and gave him a quick hug. "Sorry about this whole mess."
He just watched as Lina followed Meg to a waiting FBI Suburban.
In the time since he had first taken a Jeep across the open border into Mexico, then chartered a plane to Argentina, where he had acquired new identification and established a residence, Pelly had tried to adjust to his role as a man of leisure.
He had had time to shave properly, establish several bank accounts in Argentina, Switzerland and Spain.
Now he sat in a small office of a doctor on the southern coast of Spain in a town called Gijón, where he was about to start a form of electrolysis that this doctor claimed would eliminate the need for Pelly to shave.
He had undergone similar treatments in the past, all with little or no effect other than causing the lying doctors to meet a painful end. He thought those days were behind him until he had looked this young doctor in the face and realized that if he had traveled this far for a treatment that this man guaranteed would stop his hair growth and it didn't work, he would kill this man as well. Perhaps right here in his little office in this small tourist town.
Pelly leaned back in the chair, amused by the man's Catalán accent. He sounded a little like Yosemite Sam from the cartoons he had watched as a child. He closed his eyes to relax and thought of Lina. The same thoughts he had had for some time. If he were not more wolflike than manlike, if he had a comfortable estate in Europe and South America, would she consider coming to him? He could dream. He wasn't so foolish to think she could be trusted, but he could dream.
He jumped as the small needle touched his hairy cheek. This had better work, for this doctor's sake.
Alex Duarte sat in the chair in front of Alice Brainard's desk. Having been home almost a week, he had not seen her as much as he wanted. His bosses as well as the DEA had questions, but the Department of Justice had handled most of it, explaining that Duarte was under a court order not to speak of the incident.
Alice, like the helpful champ she was, had run all the DNA tests Duarte had asked her to.
Now she looked serious, her easy smile absent. "I have the results on everything."
Duarte nodded. "I'm listening."
"The sample from the cigarette matched the blood under Gastlin's fingernail."
Duarte let out his breath. "So it was definitely Staub."
"And the hair matched the blood sample you sent me."
Duarte caught himself. He knew that Alice might suspect that the samples came from Félix and that the blood he took from Forrest Jessup's house the night he was murdered meant that in their brief scuffle Duarte had shot his friend in the arm. He didn't want to confirm Alice's suspicions. Félix was being honored as the great DEA agent that he was. Duarte didn't want anything to tarnish that. He had taken the murder of his informant so hard that it had broken him. Gastlin's death had been a burn zone on his soul. But it didn't change the fact that he had given his life to save others.
Duarte finally said, "How hard would it be to just trash all the results?"
"Like they never existed?"
"Yeah. Can you do that?"
"If I beat up on the DNA scientist who developed the samples, yeah, I could forget you ever gave them to me."
He smiled as he found himself leaning across the desk and kissing Alice on the lips. That was a first for him on duty.
That night he waited a few minutes later than usual before arriving for dinner. His brother was already in the main house and he walked around to the front door. As he opened it, he heard his ma say, "Alex, is that you, sweetheart?"
"Yes, Ma."
"Why are you using the front door?"
"I brought a guest. Is that okay, Ma?"
His mother stepped into the formal living room, which had never once been used, and looked out toward the door. She stopped as the smile washed over her face.
Duarte said, "Ma, this is Alice."
His mother started to reach out her hand then took an extra step and embraced the bright blond forensic scientist.
Alice returned the hug.
Duarte heard his father coming down the stairs. Before he even was in sight, he said, "Alex, did you do good work today?"
Duarte didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir. I did good work today."
James O. Born
