“This is a lovely spot. It must be true what they say-people take the places where they live for granted. I’ve never made the time to visit as part of town before.”
The agents wide green eyes gazed at me, unblinking and unamused. “We chose this place because we know it’s not bugged. There are things we need to talk about, sensitive things, that none of us want to be overheard. That includes you.”
I was flattered that they’d include me in their spy games, but I was feeling the same sensation I felt in my recurring nightmare, of being a Jeopardy contestant and having the Final Jeopardy category turn out to be Famous Suffragettes. I took a deep drag and let the smoke slip out of my nose and mouth as I spoke.
“Don’t get me wrong… I think we’re hitting it off really well, and I’m having a great time, but do you mind telling me what I’m doing here?”
Agent McCovey meandered back into the conversation. “Don’t worry. You’re not in any kind of trouble. We just need to find out what you know.”
Agent Andrews interrupted. “We know you found the video disc.”
“Who told you that? Drysdale? He is such a liar.”
McCovey smiled and looked out into the chilly night.
“It’s no big deal, Murphy. The only reason we picked you up is to see if you found out anything else about Colonel O’Brien’s murder.”
It sounded like Interpol was grasping at straws. Taking the time to round me up seemed like a last ditch effort, though I would never verbalize that. The upside was that they might let me in on something I didn’t know, in trade for me telling them everything I’d found out. Of course, I hadn’t learned much, but they didn’t know that.
Agent Andrews seemed to be getting cold and tucked her hands under her arms. I noticed with mixed reactions that her right hand was fondling the loaded holster under her black jacket. She seemed to be the less accommodating of the two agents, so I spoke to the man.
“Well, I’m assuming you both saw what was on the videodisc. I didn’t recognize the attacker.”
McCovey stuck his hands into his pockets. “There’s no reason why you should have. But that’s irrelevant. We already know who he is.”
Agent Andrews threw her partner a cautionary glance, but he disregarded it and went on.
“The man goes by the name of the Chameleon. He’s been on our most-wanted lists for years. We believe his real name is Jacques Fou, but his fingerprints have been surgically removed, and he’s a genius with disguises. If you saw him again, you probably wouldn’t recognise him.”
If Interpol knew who the killer was, then they already knew more than I did.
“So how am I supposed to help you, seeing as how you’ve already solved the murder?”
Agent Andrews jumped in. “The Chameleon isn’t some kind of psychopath who kills people for the hell of it. He’s a mercenary. Organizations and individuals hire him for specialized hits. We want to know who his employer was this time.”
Agent McCovey began to pace casually as he picked up where the woman left off.
“Even more importantly, we’re trying to find out more about the Winter Chip. On the videodisc, it looked like that was what the Chameleon was trying to find out from O’Brien.” He turned to face me. “Where were you earlier this evening?”
I flicked my spent cigarette off to the side and buried my hands in the pockets of my overcoat. I considered how much I should tell the agents. Dubois had told me a little about the Winter Chip, and McCovey seemed open to sharing information, so I decided to tell them what I found out. In exchange, maybe they could tell me more about CAPRICORN.
As I described my meeting with Dubois, Agent McCovey nodded occasionally while Agent Andrews took notes. I wrapped things up by recounting Dubois’s apparent abduction. When I’d finished, Andrews looked up from her notebook. “Any idea where we could locate Dubois?”
I shook my head. “Like I said, I had a bad feeling that he’s been located for the last time.
And he didn’t leave me with any way to get in touch with him.”
My fingers had warmed sufficiently to have another smoke. I cupped my hands around the Zippo flame, then let loose a long stream of half smoke, half breath steam. I told them what I knew. Maybe they’d toss me another bone.
“What can the two of you tell me about CAPRICORN? Do you suppose it figures somehow into the Colonel’s murder?”
Agent McCovey, who’d been very attentive while I was talking, resumed his leisurely pacing. “Odds are pretty good. Whoever decimated CAPRICORN knew what they were doing. They had to have someone on the inside, to provide information, but they also needed manpower and resources. That doesn’t come cheap.”
“So who was it? Could it have been this Phoenix person, the one Dubois told me about?”
McCovey shook his head. “We’re not sure. And we don’t have any information on who Phoenix is or how he figures into this. What we do know is, the Crusade for Genetic Purity had the most to gain from CAPRICORN being dismantled. We also have reason to believe that the Crusade isn’t the real power in the equation. There is another group behind it… nameless and faceless, probably very small, with a lot of money and an agenda. What the agenda is… we don’t know, but we intend to find out.”
“And you think this group behind the Crusade had the Chameleon kill the Colonel?”
McCovey shrugged. “Seems likely.”
He turned and walked around to the driver’s side. Agent Andrews opened the passenger side door and crawled in. Apparently, our interview was over. I slid into the seat and shut the door as we lifted off. Once we were airborne and headed back to Chandler Avenue, Agent McCovey turned to me.
“There’s another thing I wanted to ask you about. I understand that you asked the police to search a vacant house out in the Pacific Heights area. There was also something about a Duchess and a stolen statue. It didn’t make much sense.”
“It never does, coming from Malden.”
As we flew back to my office, I recounted my meeting with Countess Renier and what had followed. I could hear Agent Andrews taking notes in the back. At one point, Agent McCovey interrupted to ask me to describe the statue thoroughly. My story wrapped up just as we landed at the curb behind my speeder.
“That’s why I had the police check out the mansion.”
Agent McCovey nodded silently several times, then took a breath. “Well, Mr Murphy, thanks for your time. I hope we didn’t keep you up too late.”
There were other questions I wanted to ask, but I was being dismissed. I opened the door and held it there as Agent Andrews’ shapely legs emerged from the back seat. She looked up at me and held my eyes-not with any interest, but to keep me from comfortably scanning her gams-until she was safely seated beside her partner. I shut the door, and the speeder took off.
As I walked back to my office, I realized the Interpol agents had never shown me any identification.
UAKM — CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Getting up at a reasonable hour the previous day seemed to have taken a toll on my thirtysomething body. It was eleven something when I rolled over and squinted at my alarm clock. What a piece of junk. The LED read 11:88. Even worse, the plastic bumps on the snooze bar had worn off completely, making it harder to find those all-important eight minute incre-ments of extra sleep. What I needed was one of those voice response devices with the special Monique feature. They had a sultry female voice that would make naughty sex noises instead of beeping and could be programmed to say things like, “Time to get up, handsome. I’m ready for some breakfast in bed.” Of course, I’d just set the alarm over and over and spend the rest of my life in the sack.