I nodded as I turned the bullet in my fingers.
“There’s no name on it. You said the theory was that everybody’s got a bullet out there with someone’s name on it.”
Rachel shrugged.
“It was a Sunday and I guess the engraver was off. They said I’d have to come back today if I wanted to put anything on it. I obviously didn’t get the chance.”
I opened the clasp and reached up to put it around her neck. She lifted a hand to stop me.
“No, it’s yours. I got it for you.”
“I know. But why don’t you give it to me when it’s got your name on it?”
She thought about that for a moment and then dropped her hand away. I put the chain around her neck and clasped it. She looked at me with a smile.
“You know what?” she asked.
“What?”
“I’m really starving now.”
I almost laughed at the abrupt change in direction.
“Okay, then let’s order room service.”
“I want a steak. And more rum.”
We ordered and both of us were able to get showers in before the food arrived. We ate in our hotel bathrobes while sitting across from each other at the table the room service waiter had rolled into the room. I could see the silver chain on Rachel’s neck but the bullet had been tucked inside her thick, white robe. Her hair was wet and completely uncombed and she looked good enough to eat for dessert.
“This guy who told you about the single-bullet theory, he was a cop or an agent, right?”
“A cop.”
“Do I know him?”
“Know him? I’m not sure anybody really knows him, including me. But I’ve seen his name in a few of your stories in the last couple years. Why do you care?”
I ignored her question and asked my own.
“So did you show him the door or was it the other way around?”
“I think it was me. I knew it wasn’t right.”
“Great, so this guy you dumped is out there and he carries a gun and now you’re with me.”
She smiled and shook her head.
“This is so not an issue. Can we just change the subject?”
“Fine. What do you want to talk about, then? You want to finally tell me about what happened in D.C. today?”
She finished a bite of steak before answering.
“There is nothing really to talk about,” she said. “They had me. I had misled my supervisor about the interview at Ely, and he authorized the flight. They did their little investigation and did the math and said I used about fourteen thousand dollars’ worth of Jet A fuel and that constitutes misuse of government funds on a felony level. They had a prosecutor out in the hallway and ready to go with it if I wanted to push it. I would’ve been booked right there and then.”
“That’s incredible.”
“The thing is, I was planning to do the interview at Ely and that would have made everything fine. But things changed when you told me about Angela being missing. I never got to Ely.”
“This is bureaucracy at its worst. I have to write about this.”
“You can’t, Jack. That was part of the deal. I signed a confidentiality agreement, which I’ve already violated by telling you what I just told you. But if it makes its way into print, they will probably end up charging me after all.”
“Not if the story is so embarrassing to them that the only out is to drop the whole thing and restore your status as an agent.”
She poured another round of rum into one of the snifters that had been delivered with the bottle. With her fingers she transferred a single cube of ice from her water glass to the snifter, then rolled the glass in her hand a few times before drinking from it.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one betting that they will see the light instead of seeing a way to put you in jail.”
I shook my head.
“Rachel, your actions, no matter how ill-advised or even illegal, saved my life for sure and probably a bunch of others’. You’ve got William Schifino and all the victims this Unsub will never get to now that he is known to authorities. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Jack, don’t you understand? They didn’t like me at the bureau. Not for a long time. They thought they had me out of sight and out of mind but then I forced them to move me out of South Dakota. I got a piece of leverage and I used it, but they didn’t like that and they didn’t forget it. It’s just like anything else in life. One false move and you are vulnerable. They waited until I made the mistake that made me vulnerable, and they moved in. It doesn’t matter how many people I may have saved. There’s no hard evidence of anything. But the fuel bill on that jet? That’s evidence.”
I gave up. She couldn’t be consoled. I watched her take down her whole snifter of rum and then spit the ice cube back into the bottom of the glass. She then poured herself another shot.
“You better have some of this before I drink it all,” she said.
I held my snifter across the table and she poured in a sizable shot. I clicked my glass off hers and took a long pull. It went down smooth as honey.
“Better be careful,” I said. “This stuff is easy to get blasted on.”
“I want to get blasted.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll have to leave here by about nine-thirty tomorrow morning if you want to make our appointment on time.”
She put her glass down heavily and drunkenly on the table.
“Yeah, what about that? What exactly are we doing tomorrow, Jack? You know I have no badge anymore. I don’t even have a gun and you want to just waltz into this place?”
“I want to see it. I want to figure out if he’s in there. After that, we can call in the bureau or the police or whoever you want. But it’s my lead and I want to get in there first.”
“And then write about it in the paper.”
“Maybe, if they let me. But one way or another I’m going to write about this whole thing. So I want to be there first.”
“Just make sure you change my name in your book, to protect the guilty.”
“Sure. What do you want to be called?”
She tilted her head and tightened her lips as she thought about it. She raised her glass again and took a small sip, then answered.
“How about Agent Misty Monroe?”
“Sounds like a porn star.”
“Good.”
She put her glass down again and her face turned serious.
“So… enough fun and games. We go in there and we what, just ask which one of them is the serial killer?”
“No, we go in there and act like prospective clients. We take a tour of the place and meet as many people as we can. We ask questions about security and who has access to the sensitive legal files our firm will be backing up in storage. Things like that.”
“And?”
“And we hope that somebody gives themselves away or maybe I see the guy from Ely with the sideburns.”
“Would you even recognize him without his disguise?”
“Probably not, but he doesn’t know that. He might see me and make a run for it and then-ta da!-we have our guy.”
I raised my hands palms-out like a magician who has completed a difficult trick.
“This doesn’t sound like a plan, Jack. It sounds like you’re making it up as you go along.”
“Maybe I am and maybe that’s why I need you to be there.”
“I have no idea what you mean by that.”
I got up and came around to her side and got down on one knee. She was about to raise her glass for another drink when I put my hand on her forearm.
“Look, I don’t need your gun or your badge, Rachel. I want you there because if somebody in that place makes a false move, even a small one, you’re going to read it and then we’ve got him.”
She pushed my hand off her arm.
“Look, you’re exaggerating. If you think I’m some sort of mind reader who can-”