"What's that?"
"She's part of a pattern of killings. You're talking about a serial killer."
"How do you know so much about this?" Thorpe asked, surprised by her rapid deductions.
"Part of my job is to coordinate between various federal agencies' special operations forces on anti-terrorism — DOD isn't the only one that has them. The FBI has its HRT, Hostage Rescue Team, and as an adjunct to that they have their Investigative Support Unit. The ones who get called into tough cases that the locals have trouble with. Used to be called Behavioral Sciences?"
"I've heard of them," Thorpe said.
"They do more than just serial killers, although that's the stuff that gets them headlines. I work with the guy who heads the unit on terrorist profiles. We talked about a lot of subjects — he wanted to know about Kilten and McKenzie."
Thorpe remembered the two men — the scientist who tried to destroy his own creation, the Omega Missile, and the former navy SEAL that Kilten had picked to help him who had an agenda of his own.
"They get their suspect profiles by doing a psychological study on people who have committed the same types of acts. Needless to say, McKenzie and Kilten weren't around to interview, so he's been tracking down those who knew them. He also said they were doing a profile of Hill — the NSA adviser who set up the Red Flyer missions — which I thought was kind of interesting."
Thorpe had tried to distance himself as much as possible from those events. He remembered getting a message on his machine from someone in the FBI — probably the same man— wanting to know about McKenzie who had been with Thorpe on the beach in Lebanon. For a moment, Thorpe was back there, being chased by an Israeli army tank, after gunning down several CIA guards while attempting to stop the transfer of weapons-grade plutonium.
Thorpe shivered. "Back to Dan's daughter," he prompted.
"Since he was asking me so much, I asked him a bunch of questions. It's pretty interesting. Like they can predict what sort of car a type of killer will be driving and that sort of stuff. They've made a real science of it."
"He told me that when someone disappears and foul play is suspected, it's one of three things. Someone the victim knew committing a murder, a kidnap where you'll hear from the kidnappers, or a serial murderer. From what you've said it's not the first or the second, so that leaves us the third. A serial killer in Germany."
It was a conclusion that Thorpe had considered but shied away from. "Why do you say serial killer? Why not an accident or someone who kills just once? A random act?"
"I'm just telling you what this guy told me and they are the best in the world at what they do. It's kind of scary how well they can profile those nutcases."
"If there's foul play involved then it's either someone she knows or someone she doesn't. If it was someone she knew, then it seems to me that Dan would have suspected that someone. Since he doesn't, it has to be a stranger. If it's a stranger, the FBI guy said the really dangerous thing is that then it's most likely not an isolated incident. It will happen again or it happened before."
"That's pretty pessimistic," Thorpe said.
"No, it's pretty realistic," Parker said. "And serial killers don't just stop. They go until they're caught or they die."
"Did this guy say anything about the victims? Would they be the same type of person or just whoever happened to be in the area?"
"Usually the victims fit a pattern. Same sex, usually same age, sometimes they even look alike."
"Okay, that gives me an idea."
"Glad I could help," Parker said. "If you need anything else, you'll let me know, right?"
"Right."
"Okay." There was a short, awkward pause. "Mike?"
"I've got to go now," Thorpe said.
"Okay. Call me — if you need anything, all right?"
"Right." The phone went dead.
Thorpe put the receiver down and stared at the computer. "Hey, Takamura."
"Yes, sir?"
"I want to find something out on the computer, but I don't know how to do it."
Takamura face broke into a smile. "What do you want the computer to do?"
"Can you get the computer to bring up all records that have a CID report tag on them?"
Takamura nodded. "All soldiers assigned to this command, yes. But that's outside our province of work, sir."
"Let me worry about what we're supposed to be working on."
"Sir—"
Thorpe tapped his collar where the yellow oak leaf of his rank was sewn. "I take responsibility. Can you bring up whether a family member has a CID file?"
"Yes, sir."
Thorpe stared at Takamura, who finally got the hint and began typing.
"That won't activate the CID tag program, will it?" Thorpe asked.
"Not if we restrict the search to the SOCOM personnel database and don't try to actually get into the files. Of course, the current total army database has well over a million people in it, including family members and—"
"Restrict it to Special Operations personnel assigned to Germany," Thorpe said.
"How far back do you want me to look?"
"Let's say two years."
Takamura got to work. After twenty minutes, he looked up. "I've got thirty-one hits on CID reports on Special Forces military personnel and family members in the past two years in Germany."
Thorpe frowned. Those reports could be anything from shoplifting at the PX, to a capital crime, to their quarters getting broken into. "Can you cross-reference those hits with those families that have been investigated by Social Services?"
Takamura's answer was to begin typing. A few minutes later he was done. "Eight."
Thorpe had been thinking while he was working. "Now can you narrow it down to families that have daughters, aged fourteen to eighteen?"
Takamura was having fun. "That won't be too hard." Another couple of minutes and the field had further been reduced. "Four."
"Can you display those records?"
"The computer is set."
Thorpe reclaimed his seat. "Thanks."
As he expected, Dublowski's name was on the list. There were three other names. The first one was a staff sergeant who had been accused of molesting his daughter. There was no indication that the daughter had disappeared. The second one was a daughter who had been picked up for stealing an automobile off post.
Thorpe was beginning to think this was a dead end when the third name came up. A daughter, age seventeen, was reported missing. The family lived near Stuttgart, just as Dublowski had. CID had investigated and concluded she had run away. Thorpe jotted down the name of the soldier and his current assignment: Tenth Special Forces Group, Fort Carson, Colorado.
So perhaps there was another one, Thorpe thought as he leaned back in the seat. It was slim. But then again, there were a lot more American servicemen overseas than the Special Operations soldiers that Takamura had accessed.
"Hey, Takamura. Could you expand that search you just did to the entire army? All personnel assigned to Germany?"
Takamura tapped a pencil against the side of his glasses. "I suppose I could. I'd have to go on line with the main database in Washington though, sir."
"Will you get in trouble for that?" Thorpe asked.
"No. We do it all the time. It's just that it would take a while. If I do the past ten years with the variables you gave me, the computer will have to shift through a couple of million records looking for those specific variables."
"Will you do it?"
In answer, Takamura gestured for Thorpe to relinquish his seat. It only took Takamura ten minutes to set the search up, but the running took over an hour and a half. Thorpe grew impatient with the little clock on the face of the computer screen whose little hands going around in a circle indicated the computer was working.
At one point he asked Takamura why the computer couldn't just start showing personnel records as they fit the description, but Takamura responded with a ten-minute discourse on the inner workings of the machine and system that made Thorpe wish he had never asked.