"Over there," Donna said, pointing to an opening in the wall. "Please don't leave the cafeteria."
I put my hand on Beth's shoulder and pressed down, indicating she should stay with the Feds. I said to her, "Make sure Stevens doesn't come back and slip anthrax in my coffee."
I went to the passage where the two rest rooms were located. Max joined me, and we stood in the dead-end corridor. Rest rooms are much more likely to be bugged than corridors. I said, "They can say they fully cooperated, showed us the whole island, and the entire facility except for Zone Five. In fact, it would take a few days to cover this whole building, including the basement, and it would take a week to interrogate the staff."
Max nodded. He said, "We have to assume the people here are as anxious as we are to figure out what, if anything, is missing." He added, "Let's trust them on that."
I replied, "Even if they find out or already know what the Gordons stole, they're not going to tell us. They'll tell Foster and Nash."
"So what? We're investigating a murder."
"When I know what and why, I'm close to who," I said.
"In normal cases-with cases of national security and all that stuff, you're lucky if they tell you anything. There's nothing on this island for us. They control the island, the workplace of the victims. We control the murder scene, the home of the victims. Maybe we can horse-trade some information with Foster and Nash. But I don't think they care who killed the Gordons. They want to make sure the Gordons didn't kill the rest of the country. You know?"
"Yeah, Max, I know. But my cop instincts tell me-"
"Hey, what if we catch the killer, and we can't put him on trial because there aren't twelve people left alive in the state of New York to form a jury?"
"Cut the melodrama." I considered a moment, then said to him, "This may not have anything to do with bugs. Think drugs."
He nodded. "Thought about it. I like that one."
"Yeah. Really. What do you think of Stevens?"
Max looked over my shoulder, and I turned to see a blue-uniformed guard come into the passage. He said, "Gentlemen, can I help you find something?"
Max declined the offer, and we went back to the table. When they send someone to interrupt a private conversation, it means that they weren't able to eavesdrop.
After a few minutes of coffee and chitchat, Ms. Alba checked her watch again and announced, "We can see the rest of the wing now, then go to Dr. Zollner's office."
"You said that half an hour ago, Donna," I reminded her gently.
"He's very busy this morning," she replied. "The phone hasn't stopped ringing. Washington, newspeople from all over the country." She seemed amazed and incredulous. She said, "I don't believe what they're saying about the Gordons. Not for one minute. No way."
We all left the cafeteria and wandered around dull gray corridors awhile. Finally, while viewing the computer room, I'd had enough, and I said to Donna, "I'd like to see the laboratory where the Gordons worked."
"That's in biocontainment. You can probably see that later."
"Okay. How about Tom and Judy's office here in the admin area?"
She hesitated, then said, "You can ask Dr. Zollner. He didn't tell me to take you to the Gordons' office."
I didn't want to get rough with Donna, so I glanced at Max in a way cops understand-Max, you're now the bad cop.
Max said to Ms. Alba, "As the chief of police of Southold Township, of which this island is a part, I require you now to take us to the office of Tom and Judy Gordon whose murders I am investigating."
Not bad, Max, despite the shaky syntax and grammar.
Poor Donna Alba looked like she was going to faint.
Beth said to her, "It's all right. Do what Chief Maxwell asks."
Now it was the turn of Messrs. Foster and Nash, and I already knew what they were going to say. George Foster turned out to be the designated dickhead. He said, "Because of the nature of the Gordons' work and the probability that their office contains papers or documents-"
"Relating to national security," I interjected helpfully, "and so forth, and blah, blah, blah."
Teddy Boy thought he should go on record and said, "The Gordons had a secret clearance, and therefore their papers are classified secret."
"Bullshit."
"Excuse me, Detective Corey-I'm speaking." He fixed me with a really nasty glare, then said, "However, in the interests of harmony and to avoid jurisdictional disputes, I will make a phone call, which I'm confident will get us access to the Gordons' office." He looked at me, Max, and Beth and asked, "All right?"
They nodded.
Of course the Gordons' office had already been completely searched and sanitized last night or early this morning. As Beth had said, we were only going to see what they wanted us to see. But I gave George and Ted credit for thinking to make a big stink over this, as though we were going to find some really interesting stuff in the Gordons' office.
Donna Alba seemed relieved and said to Nash, "I'll call Dr. Zollner." She picked up a telephone and hit the intercom button. Meanwhile, Ted Nash whipped out a flip phone and walked some distance away with his back to us and talked, or made believe he was talking, to the gods of National Security in the Great Capital of the Confused Empire.
Charade over, he returned to us mortals at the same time Donna finished with Dr. Zollner. Donna nodded that it was okay, and Nash also nodded.
Donna said, "Please follow me."
We followed her into the corridor and headed for the east wing of the building, past the open staircase we'd come up. We came to Room 265, and Donna opened the door with a master key.
The office had two desks, each with its own PC, a modem, shelves and a long worktable covered with books and papers. There was no lab equipment or anything of that nature-just office stuff, including a fax machine.
We poked around the Gordons' desks awhile, opening drawers, looking at papers, but as I said, this office had been picked clean earlier. In any case, people who are involved in a conspiracy don't calendar it in or leave incriminating memos around.
Still, you never know what you might find. I rolled through their Rolodex cards, noting that they knew people from all over the world, mostly scientific types, it seemed. I looked under "Gordon" and saw a card for Tom's parents, and names of people who must have been his sister, his brother, and other family members. All in Indiana. I didn't know Judy's maiden name.
I looked for "Corey, John" and found my name, though I don't recall them ever calling me from work. I looked for "Maxwell, Sylvester" and found his office and home numbers. I looked for "Wiley, Margaret," but she wasn't there, and I wasn't surprised. Then I looked for "Murphy," the Gordons' next-door neighbors, and they were there, Edgar and Agnes, which made sense. I found "Tobin, Fredric" and I recalled the time I'd gone with the Gordons to the winery of Fredric Tobin for a wine tasting. I looked for and found the number of the Peconic Historical Society, and the home number of its president, one Emma Whitestone.
I looked under "D" for Drug Runner, Pedro, and "C" for Colombian Drug Cartel, but no luck. I tried "T" for Terrorists and "A" for Arab Terrorists, but I came up empty. I didn't see "Stevens" or "Zollner," but I imagined there must be a separate directory of every employee on the island, and I intended to get a copy of in.
Nash was playing with Tom's PC and Foster was playing with Judy's. This is probably the one thing they hadn't had time to fully check out this morning.
I noted that there were virtually no personal items in the office, not a photograph, not a piece of art, not even a desk item that wasn't government issue. I asked Donna about this, and she replied, "There's no rule against personal items in Zone One areas. But people tend not to bring much on the ferry to put in their office, except maybe cosmetics, medicines, and stuff like that. I don't know why. Actually, we can requisition almost anything we want, within reason. We're a little spoiled that way."