There were pads of paper on the small desk, and while they ate their breakfast, the two men went resolutely to work on the writing assignment Jim Rogan had given the night before. "We've got to get clear to do a thorough investigation," Carter recounted, "and if we play Rogan's game, we'll get the best opportunity to get free."
Groaning loudly from time to time, Zachary recalled some material from his college days and later reading. Carter worked on something he remembered from one of the Russian dissident writers. The two men finished another pot of Zachary's good Jamaican coffee while working on their assignments, then they went to the cafeteria and managed some bacon and eggs. Carter noticed the pay phone was free and moved to it to call David Hawk.
Even though it was apparently a standard pay phone, Carter thought it best to use precautions. This was going to be a sensitive conversation with no way to talk around things. "You'd better put this call on scramble," he advised. "Try range two."
From his wallet, Carter extracted a circuit board the size and approximate thickness of a credit card. Across the middle was a round green membrane the size of a half dollar. Carter held the card directly over the mouthpiece of the phone, then began to speak.
"What did Cincinnati say, sir?"
The crusty AXE director lit a cigar. "You hit the mark. Nick. Cincinnati was most cooperative and impressed. They report an unclaimed traumatic force corpse that appeared about three days after the Grinning Gaucho business in Covington. They'd been on the telex to a number of agencies. Really responsible people."
"How about the ID?"
"The corpse had been in the river for sometime." Hawk said. "That didn't leave much to work on. Significantly, the fingerprints had been eaten away and the face was battered beyond recognition. But the size, apparent weight, and general body characteristics are a good match with our man."
"How about a dental match to make certain?" Carter said.
"No longer possible, Nick. The corpse was kept for the required period of time, the usual notices sent out. It was sent to the medical school anatomy department. The soggy mortal remains of the Grinning Gaucho are probably quite spread out among a number of young men and women who are the future doctors of America."
He paused, took in some smoke, and exhaled with pleasure. "How's your poetry venture?"
Carter told him of the episode with the doctor. "I'm betting it's Charles Smith. You might check for me to see if we're dealing with a five-foot-five or five-foot-six male Caucasian, dark brown hair, weight about a hundred and ten or fifteen."
"Will do," Hawk said.
"Any news on those Japanese investment bankers taken as hostages by LT?"
Hawk sounded concerned. He told Carter of the pressure he'd been getting to develop some leads on the three men. "Believe it or not, that's having a direct effect on the market value of the dollar and on the stock market. You can imagine how that trickles down to me. And now it's landed in your lap." He took in smoke, then let it out with a sigh. "I'm almost tempted to pull you off what you're doing to have a look at all the evidentiary materials."
Carter's response cheered Hawk when he told him, "I believe we're going to find a connection between the kidnapped investment bankers and that so-called gas main explosion in Los Angeles. I think we're going to find all these activities tie in with LT." He told Hawk about the notes he and Zachary had received and about his belief that they were intended as clues. "I'll of course obey your instructions," Carter said, "but I urge you to consider that I'm in the right place now."
"Fine, fine," Hawk said, "but keep pushing." He reflected for a moment. "I can tell you for a fact, Nick, that the explosion in Los Angeles was a bomb. The gas main story was trumped up from the beginning."
"It may be a little late in the game to ask you this, but it was you who taught me the virtues of checking on everything."
Hawk blew out smoke.
"The CIA man, Sam Zachary. He claims he met you at a gathering hosted by you at your place."
"Quite right, Nick, it's always important to check. Yes, I've seen him two or three times socially. I frankly can't understand what he sees in that bunch at Langley. He isn't their sort at all. More of a loner. Good man. I did a stealth inquiry on him and discovered he hadn't cashed a paycheck in over a year. You'd think they wouldn't notice, the way they throw around their discretionary funds and all, but it played havoc with their payroll and they called him on the carpet."
Hawk smoked, began to chuckle. "His excuse was that he'd forgotten."
"You wouldn't have that trouble with me, sir," Carter said."
"This is highly confidential and is not to go beyond you. It seems Zachary is independently wealthy. He came from a middle-class family, but married into real money. He refused their help, worked at securities trading, and amassed a tidy fortune all on his own. The marriage failed, and even though his ex-wife's family can well afford his son's education, he regularly contributes a handsome stipend for the boy."
"One more personnel status check, please," Carter requested. "The individual is James Rogan." Carter told him what he knew, which Hawk took down, still chuckling to himself about the background on Sam Zachary.
Carter and Zachary had a last cup of coffee in the cafeteria and moved to join a group of students and Jim Rogan in a small but comfortable auditorium.
They handed their assignments to the chubby director who smiled, scanned them briefly, then looked at the two with admiration. "These guys," he said, "really entered into the spirit of things. They got their assignments done and in the process addressed significant ideas. I'm proud of you. Incidentally, they were the only two to complete their work so far. The rest of you get busy."
Finding a seat with Zachary, Carter whispered behind the back of his hand. "I hope that little exercise raises our credibility."
Rogan bounded up on the stage and took his place at a heavy plank table with microphones. Two men and two women sat on either side of Rogan, clearly the members of a panel discussion.
Zachary groaned, then whispered, "I can't believe we've got to sit through this until tonight."
They did have to sit through it, and both men plowed in. It was part of their job.
At the dinner break, Carter did a search on his room and determined to his satisfaction that no one had been inside. Wandering past the cafeteria area, Carter decided to force the issue and see if he could determine if anyone was still watching him.
He headed to the points where he'd been stopped by the armed guards. They were not on duty. He pushed his incursions well beyond where he'd been told not to go. To double check, he blended into the scenery, doubled back, and waited to see if he were being allowed to go forth while still under surveillance.
To his satisfaction, the trail was clear.
He headed toward the building that looked like an athletic facility, entered, and began looking around. After about half an hour of looking, Carter found things as they'd been represented. There were piles of construction-grade lumber, some scaffolding, some bags of plaster. From what Carter could put together, this had once been a luxurious spa. Now it was destined to become a swimming pool and a few basketball and volleyball courts.
He left the building, deciding Jim Rogan had called off the watchdogs, whoever they were. That meant the stage was set for some reconnaissance.
He went to his room to shower, change his shirt, and prepare for the night ahead. The Killmaster knew he was coming closer to Lex Talionis all the time. Tonight would be important. At the slightest trace of a solid lead, he'd have to take the risk of blowing cover. He'd have to go in for the kill.