Wheeler's office was located on the third floor of the building Laura had visited on her first day in the city. As the patrolman led her to the elevator, she spotted Sergeant Thomas Campbell taking a statement of some sort from an elderly black woman, and looking every bit as indifferent to her story as he had been to Laura's. As she stepped into the elevator she silently prayed that the encounter with Wheeler would amount to something more than just another set of forms.
"If you'll wait here, please, ma'am," the policeman said, nodding to a bench in the third-floor hallway.
He knocked at and then entered wheeler's office.
Moments later he returned, told Laura to wait, and disappeared down the back stairs. Laura tried, unsuccessfully, to keep her excitement and expectations in check. Her experience with the police, both in D.C. and Boston, had been so uniformly unrewarding that just the thought of meeting with a captain who was interested in Scott had her imagination soaring. Several minutes passed, during which she played through any number of scenarios, testing her. reaction to revelations ranging from proof of Scott's death to his involvement in some sort of criminal activity.
At last Wheeler's door opened. A tall, uniformed man, whose shoulders nearly spanned the doorway, smiled at her and motioned her over. He looked about fifty, with thick reddish-gray hair and a confident, weathered face.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Enders," he said, extending a beefy hand.
"I'm Captain Lester Wheeler."
Laura followed him into the office and settled in across the desk from him as Wheeler pulled one of her posters from his drawer.
"I've been meaning to get in touch with you about this for a couple of days," he said.
"Sorry to have taken "so long." Do you know something about my brother?"
"Do you?" he asked. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Miss Enders, do you know your brother's occupation?"
"I've been sensing for a while that what I know is wrong," she said.
"He's not in computers, is he?"
The policeman shook his head and smiled at the notion.
"No," he said. "No, he's not-or I should say, wasn't. I… don't mean to be blunt, Miss Enders, but I have good reason to believe your brother is dead."
Despite all her Preparation, Laura felt herself sink at the news.
"Go on," she said.
"Your brother was an agent for the government.
And a damn good one, I might add. He worked for a group out of Washington that I frankly don't know too much about, except that. they supply undercover people to other agencies such as the FBI and D.E.A.
"COmmunigistics," Laura said.
"Pardon?"
"NOthing- I just think I know who he worked for."
"Perhaps you do. well, this Past winter your brother was working undercover on loan to us. He was trying to break a drug-smuggling ring operating through the port in Easc Boston. It's our belief that he filmed a very big deal involving some people we've been trying to nail for a long time."
"A videotape?" Laura could feel puzzle pieces dropping into place.
"Exactly," Wheeler said, "We believe that Scott was taken somehow, and-I'm sorry to say it this way-perhaps even tortured."
"It's an occupational hazard your brother lived with.
"This is all so hard for me to believe."
"If it was easy for you to believe," Wheeler said, "then your brother wouldn't have been very effective at what he did."
"I understand. Go on."
"Our sources have convinced us that, whatever they put Scott through, he didn't crack. In fact, he nearly escaped."
"Do you know for certain that he's dead?"
"If you mean do we have his body, the answer is no. He probably drowned in Boston Harbor."
"He may not have," Laura said.
She recounted Eric's resuscitative attempts on the derelict, and their subsequent visits to the Gates of Heaven.
"When your man picked me up, I was actually on my way here to file a complaint against Donald Devine," she concluded.
"Interesting," Wheeler said. "Very interesting.
Miss Enders, I'm not sure what to make of your story about this Devine, but I can't begin to tell you how badly we want that tape."
"I… I'm afraid I can't help you."
"Your brother never communicated with you, however innocently?"
"Never. Except for an occasional phone call, these postcards are all I've ever gotten." She handed him the small stack of cards from Boston.
"There's one other thing I haven't told you yet," she said when Wheeler had finished scanning the postcards. "The day before yesterday, Eric and I received a message to check the East Boston docks for news of my brother." She handed him the note and described the events that followed.
"Do you have any idea who saved you?" Wheeler asked.
"I was hoping you might know."
The policeman shook his head.
"Obviously the Feds are playing their own game here," he said.
"They probably sent you as a way of speeding things up.
Perhaps they knew that Scott had been working around this warehouse.
The man who Saved your bacon had probably been following You. Miss Enders, excuse me for pressing, but this is so important- You have no inkling whats over of where your brother might have hidden the video receiver?"
"Absolutely-none."
"Well then," Wheeler said, "suppose we leave things at this: As soon as I have time, I'll see what explanations your friend Mr, Devine has regarding this whole business with that body. You really think it was your brother?"
"I do."
"All right. I'll look into that. Mean while, if you're going to stay in Boston, I'd like you to keep me aware of any developments such as that note. But let me say this: If I were you, I'd catch the next plane back to your island. Some very bad people think you know where that tape is. And if they're who I think they are, they don't stop until they have what they want. Things could get real ugly."
Laura did not respond right away. She stared down at the floor, biting her lower lip as an enormous sadness settled in her breast. The confusion and uncertainty had lifted, but in their place was a heavy gloom. She had no remaining doubt that Scott was dead. Nor did she question how he had died.
Clearly, the derelict disguise he had adopted was part of his undercover work, and equally clearly, the escape from his captors had led to his death-perhaps from exposure, perhaps from internal injuries.
Eric's theories about a poison no longer made much sense. The similarities between Scott's cardiogram and that of Reed Marshall's patient were, in fact, coincidental. Now, as far as she was concerned, there remained only the side issue of Donald Devine and exactly what he was doing with bodies. And at best, Captain Lester Wheeler seemed only passingly interested in that situation.
She promised her full cooperation, thanked the policeman for his help, and left, vowing that, if nothing else, she would see her battle with the Gates of Heaven through to the end.
Laura left Police Headquarters and wandered along Tremont Street toward the Common. She had no particular destination in mind, and no particular desire other than to walk until her legs ached too much to continue. She thought about her parents, and actually smiled at the notion of their reaction had they arrived to learn what profession their son had finally chosen. At one point they had pushed Scott into the local 4H Club and insisted that he begin grooming himself for farming.
She skirted the Common and wandered past the Combat Zone to Chinatown- On a whim she stopped at a phone booth and tried calling Eric at White Memorial. She hung up when the operator asked for an additional deposit while she was still on hold. There would be plenty of time to fill him in later that night.