“Mr. Koblitz,” Agent Hauser grumbled, “in your altercation with Alex Carlisle, would you say he demonstrated great fighting skill? You said he was unarmed. You had him outnumbered. Neither you nor your associates are smaller than he is. Did he seem to be trained for combat?”
“No,” Tony fumed. “He didn’t know no kung fu or boxing or any of that other bullshit. He didn’t throw a punch like a girl or nothin’, but it wasn’t like he went all Jackie Chan on us. It was just a street fight. He suckered us an’ the girl kept messin’ with me, but mostly it just turned into a mess.”
“And then the blonde showed up, and knocked you out-“
“Yeah, with a brick or somethin’-“
“-and you woke up in police custody. You never saw any of them again nor had any contact since, correct?”
“Yeah, man.”
“And the same goes for your associates?”
Tony’s frown turned sullen. “Yeah, man,” he repeated. “Far as I know.”
“Damon Curtis?” Hauser asked, writing it down. “Died this past New Years’? Thank you. We’ll look into it. Mr. Koblitz, if any of this leads to a trial, are you ready to testify that this woman was the last person seen with Curtis before his death? Okay. Mr. Koblitz, one last question: all of your observation of this woman took place during the evening, correct? You never saw her during the daytime?”
Koblitz made a face. “What, you think my eyes aren’t so good?”
“It’s important to establish a pattern of behavior is all.”
He gave it a little thought. “Yeah, it was already nighttime when shit started with the whole mall thing. An’ the New Years’ party. It was daylight while she was fuckin’ Damon, though.”
“But you didn’t actually see her during those times?”
“I heard her,” asserted Koblitz, “but naw, man, I ain’t bargin’ in on a dude when he’s tappin’ ass.”
“Thank you.” Hauser stood. Keeley rose with him.
“Hey, so what do I get out of this?” Tony asked. “They told me this would get me some good behavior type points!”
“We’ll be in touch,” Hauser said. He knocked on the door to be let out by the guard. The agents ignored Tony’s demands as they walked away.
“That doesn’t tell us much,” grumbled Keeley.
“It’s more than we had before we walked in. His statements are consistent with what he said after his arrest. We’ll pull all the case files and have Lanier look up this Curtis guy. My bet is there was no autopsy, so there’s no telling how much blood he had in his body when he was found.”
Keeley shrugged, then blinked and looked back at the closed door to the prison conference room. “So you’re taking him seriously?”
“I think he’s a pinhead, but he saw what he saw. Who’d make that shit up? The corpses seduce their victims all the time, and that involves sex often enough. Look, if we see this Lorelei woman out and about in the sunlight, that’ll eliminate the possibility. Until them we keep an open mind about what she really is. I just hope we can pick up on Carlisle’s trail today. Mighty convenient moving out of his mom’s home without changing a single address in any of his files.”
“Well, it usually takes me awhile to get around to it,” Keeley shrugged. “Can’t call it that suspicious.”
“You don’t live with a woman who doesn’t even exist,” snorted Hauser.
“I’ve got faith in our people,” Keeley smiled. “They’ll find him.”
* * *
“Someday, all this stuff we’ve done will come out into public light, and we’re all going to look horrible for it.” There had been a time, back when Matt Lanier first joined the FBI, when he looked forward to not sitting at a desk staring at computer screens all day. Now he got to stare at a computer screen while sitting in the back of a car. He wondered if he could call that progress.
“Only to some people,” Colleen shrugged. She sat at the wheel, marveling at how much trouble people here had in driving on wet roads when this was allegedly one of the wettest places in the nation. “We play a lot fairer than the guys going after the terrorists. I figure when it all hits the fan, most people will wonder why we ever bothered to get search warrants.”
“Yeah, all from the same judge,” muttered Matt. “I mean we got this one in less than five minutes.”
“We’re passing the college on the left here,” said Doug Bridger, watching the map on his phone from the shotgun seat. “Pull off the freeway and be ready to make a left.” He leaned back in his seat, tilting his head over his left shoulder. “So what did he check out of the library again?”
“Couple psych books on dreams and dream control, looks like,” Matt answered. He scrolled through Carlisle’s school computer account. “Looks like he downloaded some journal articles on that recently, too. But I’m looking at his transcripts and his schedule and it doesn’t sound relevant to his classes.”
“We’ll be lucky if he’s still on campus by the time we get there,” grumbled Colleen. She honked twice as she exited the freeway and pulled onto the surface street. “God, these fucking drivers…”
They knew it was a longshot when they piled into the car. Carlisle spent most of the day completely off their radar. Only in the late afternoon did he turn up on any of Matt’s open trace programs. He had already logged off before they made it to the campus. Hope of picking up his trail dimmed with each passing minute.
“Colleen, there!” barked Doug, pointing to the road up ahead. “Coming toward us, black motorcycle, leather jacket.”
“Does it match the-shit, does it match the plates? Dammit!” Colleen didn’t wait for a reply. She cut off the driver on her left to shoot into the turn lane.
Matt sat up in his seat and looked as the bike cruised past. “ZTN-123, that’s our boy,” he announced. “Doesn’t look-ulp!” Matt threw his arm out as Colleen executed a sharp U-turn. Horns honked all around her, but she ignored them all. “Jesus, you don’t fuck around.”
“Secret Service defensive driving school, buddy,” Colleen grinned, quickly bringing the car to a smooth pace in pursuit of Carlisle. “Counterintel division puts you through all kinds of fun training.”
“Ssssooo,” Doug ventured, “won’t we catch his attention by driving this aggressively behind him?”
“Nah, I’m slowing down already, see?” Colleen assured him. She did not, in fact, slow down by any measure that either of her companions could notice. “This is a bland car. It’s getting close to rush hour and everyone else in this town drives like an asshole, too. We’ll be fine. Still can’t figure out why everyone acts like the speed limit means something around here, though,” she grumbled.
Doug stole a glance over his shoulder at Matt, who gave a little shrug. “She’s from LA,” he explained.
Minutes later, their quarry arrived at his destination. Colleen passed him by as he pulled into the garage of a motorcycle repair shop, cursing her luck. “Dammit, he might be putting the bike in for repairs,” she muttered. “Doug, jump out here at the curb and pull out your phone.”
“Huh?” Doug asked.
“Jump! Call me and I’ll explain! Go!” She hit the brakes at the corner. The agent scrambled out of the car as instructed, and an instant later Colleen pulled away again and turned up the block.
Without looking, she pulled her phone from her jacket and tossed it back to Matt. He’d still been looking back toward Doug; the phone thumped against his chest, bounced off his laptop and fell onto the floor. “Grab it, he’s gonna call,” she said.
“What-Colleen, what the hell-?”
“I’m not gonna talk on my phone and drive at the same time,” Colleen said. “Seriously, don’t you know how dangerous that is?” She glanced in the mirror, allowing herself an amused smile once she saw Matt busily fishing for her phone as it rang.
Finally getting hold of the thing, Matt sat upright again and answered the call. “Doug, you’re on speakerphone,” he announced, holding it toward Colleen.
“Colleen, can you hear me?” Doug’s voice asked. “What the hell?”