“Of course, a lot of people at that age are confused and seeking some touchstone of identity,” added Bullock. “Hell, I know I was.”
“And Palmer?”
“Much the same, only in an Ivy League setting.
All it took to get on the list was to dabble and tell others you were a practicing vampire and then make the motions. That early in the game, anyone professing such tendencies, the FBI took seriously and began to watch closely and in many cases to film. It made sense to the behavioral science division to keep some sort of tabs on these… freaks.”
“You made film?” Lucas should not have been surprised. “Like you did with so many American Indian activists?”
“We did, or rather, they did. It was before Price and I were in the agency.”
Meredyth, amazed, asked, “Is this film in your archives?”
“It is, I suppose, unless someone in a position of authority has seen fit to destroy it. Meantime, people on the list are suddenly being killed off, so we were alerted. The keepers of the list and the film have all long since retired, the files pretty well set aside, much like your Cold Room files, except these were electronically set aside.”
“And someone, knowing about them, hacked into them?” asked Lucas. Bullock reluctantly nodded. 'Twice, now. Once very recently, in fact.”
Lucas and Meredyth exchanged a quick glance, both knowing Bullock referred to Randy Oglesby. “But then, you know that, don't you, Dr. Sanger?” asked Bullock.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“This break-in originated in Houston, Texas.”
“Really?”
“From a certain precinct house,” continued Bullock. “In fact, from your office, Dr. Sanger.”
She knew this to be a lie, that Randy had not used the office computer to obtain the list. “Someone broke into my office some time back,” she offered, “Lucas, you remember when it occurred.”
Lucas nodded assertedly. “It must be related.”
Price added, “When Mad Matisak came into prominence, there was some interest, but no one really wanted to be associated with the Vampire Files, as they were called. Then, as Tim said, people started getting bumped off, and the FBI's main concern was that the victims were on a list created by the FBI. If it got out… well, what with Waco, the Ruby Ridge thing, and all the other garbage leveled at the FBI of late… well, you can imagine how concerned our superiors are.” Price twirled a swizzle stick between his decidedly thick fingers.
The clatter of dishware in the hotel dining room grew with their silent response.
“One more thing we found that almost all, but not quite all, of the people on the list had in common,” added Bullock.
“What's that?”
“They were all into computers, modems, using the Net, and as young people they all played computer games.”
“Games? Like Doom?”
“Doom, Cutthroat, the darker the better.”
“Helsinger's Pit,” Meredyth muttered. 'That, too, and don't think for a moment we haven't seen the parallels to these murders. We just didn't know until your input how far back the killings went.”
'Then whoever's doing this, they're ostensibly doing it for the same object as the game?” asked Lucas. “To rid the world of devil worshippers?”
“Particularly devil worshippers with money, obviously,” added Meredyth. Bullock gave a shrug, saying, “Root of all evil, right, Dr. Sanger?”
“And the killers have become their own cult,” she countered. “Thanks to the luxury and efficiency of the computer and Internet,” added Price.
“Every computer has the potential of becoming a New Age pulpit,” finished Lucas. Isn 't that what Randy Oglesby said? he thought.
“So, what's your next move, Stonecoat, Dr. Sanger?” asked Bullock.
“I'm not sure. Return to Texas, start looking for tracks there, maybe computer tracks?” she offered noncommittally.
“Sounds a logical step, no pun intended.” Bullock stood, and the others followed suit.
Price said, “Well, good night and happy hunting. We do hope you two will keep us informed.”
“And vice versa,” replied Meredyth.
“Of course, of course…”
They all parted at the dinner table, each of them knowing it was a game of who got the answers first. Lucas shook hands with the government men, and Meredyth smiled, and all was congenial. Lucas and Meredyth were stopped, however, when Tim Bullock said, “And by the way, in case you hadn't heard, your friend Covey?”
“Covey?” asked Meredyth.
“John Covey.”
“Jack,” added Price.
“What about him?” asked Lucas.
“He's dead.”
“Dead? How?”
Meredyth's face fell.
“Usual prison whodunit. Still under investigation.”
“Damn,” muttered Lucas, taking Meredyth by the arm.
“If we're so transparent to the FBI,” she whispered to him, “what must we be to the killers?”
Bullock, hearing this, also whispered for their ears, saying, “Have you considered the distinct possibility that the Shirley killings were simply to get you out of Houston?”
Lucas stared at Bullock, incredulous. “What? That's just crazy.”
“You two got Covey killed. We never went near him.”
Meredyth gritted her teeth. “You can't believe that these people would just randomly select two innocent people for execution for the sole purpose of… of…”
“Of keeping their dirty operations secret? Yes, we can believe that.” Price's voice was sympathetic.
Meredyth was sickened by the thought that the Shirleys had possibly had nothing whatever to do with this.
“Neither of the Shirleys was ever on the Vampire List,” added Bullock.
“What are we to conclude from that?” asked Price. 'That you'd best watch your backs here, because the murdered couple were setups, dummies, just to lure you two here for a possible ambush?”
Lucas put his arm protectively around Meredyth and walked her out to the valet stand, where they picked up their rental and headed for the Prairie Wind. It was near midnight.
“Pretty damned cooperative for the feds, wouldn't you say?” he asked her as they drove off.
“I wouldn't know. I've never worked with the feds before. Have you?”
“On occasion. They're typically tight-lipped, unless… unless they need something from you. Then they're willing to bargain.”
'Then I'd say we came away with more than they did. Randy tried to tell us about the killing games on computer, the cyberspace conspiracy, the Vampire List, but we weren't buying it. Now this.”
“Don't get any false ideas from those clowns back there, Meredyth. We didn't cause Covey's death or the deaths of the Shirleys.”
“But suppose it's true? That we were lured here for a purpose?”
“Then we'd better tread lightly.”
She replied coldly, her eyes like broken glass, “We got the order to be here from Captain Lawrence.”
“You can't seriously suspect that Lawrence would be a party to such callous murder?”
“Lately… I don't know what to believe or who to trust. Do you?”
“Well, darling, that goes double for our FBI friends as well. I'd like to think we had friends in high places, but I'm not so sure about those two chumps.”
“I'm beginning to feel that creeping paranoia you always associate with psychosis,” she replied.
“Is that feeling anything like being inside a rattle and all the beans are popping and swapping noise, until you don't know which one to listen to?”
She nodded. “That's it. That's the feeling…”
TWENTY-FIVE
“God, I need a shower,” Meredyth moaned just outside her door as they stood together in the lodge hallway.
They had let the military jet fly back without them, booking a flight on a commercial airliner for 7:40 A.M.
“How about a nightcap? We can raid your wet bar,” he suggested.
“Whenever do you sleep?” she asked. “No, we've got an early flight tomorrow, remember?”
He heaved a heavy sigh, frowned, and nodded, going for his own room. Surprisingly, Lucas found himself very mellow and sleepy-eyed when he pulled back the covers and lay down on the bed. He snatched away his shirt and pants, leaving just his shorts, enjoying the stillness of the night. He had opened a window to the cool South Dakota evening.