He showed the woman his shield and asked to speak with the person in charge of the subscriber database. A young man no more than twenty-five answered the receptionist's call and introduced himself as Wallace Brooks. He guided Kerney into an office cluttered with computers and thick black notebook binders.
Kerney asked for Joseph Mitchell's e-mail records.
"Do you have a court order?" Brooks replied.
"Can't we dispense with the details?" Kerney asked.
Brooks smiled and shook his head.
"That's not possible, especially now. We're re tooling our subscriber list is frozen, and we can't release any information."
"Why is that?"
"Our current customer base is being used to test the SWAMI software.
With the trade secrets involved I can't possibly give you access to anything without a court order. Even then, our attorney would probably challenge it immediately."
"What can you tell me about SWAMI?" Kerney asked.
The young man's eyes lit up.
"SWAMI stands for Systemwide Application for Managing Information. It's a breakthrough tool for Web content management that's going to revolutionize how people use the Internet. And it's scalable, which means it can accommodate everyone from home computer users all the way up to major corporations."
"How does it work?"
"Right now the World Wide Web is a monster. There are millions of sites with astronomical amounts of data and information getting added at an exponential rate. SWAMI allows users to filter and organize the stream of information. And its a server add-on software package, so users won't have to worry about upgrading to new versions."
"Sounds like a good investment," Kerney said.
"Tell me about your corporate structure."
"We're a subsidiary of an investment corporation. The technology we've developed is based on research done at the national science laboratories right here in New Mexico."
"Isn't this a risky time for a new start-up?" Kerney asked "We're not worried about the dot com or the technology stock shake-out.
Everybody is going to use SWAMI."
"Who supplied the venture capital?"
"We're wholly owned by APT Performa, a subsidiary of Trade Source."
"Does Trade Source own the rights to SWAMI?"
"Clarence Thayer, the CEO of APT Performa, owns the rights to SWAMI."
"When does SWAMI hit the marketplace?"
"In three months, max. We believe the trade name is going to be as well known as Intel and Microsoft."
"What are the royalty arrangements?"
"A fee will be passed on to consumers by the server companies. But we're talking about tens of millions of users worldwide paying a small monthly add-on charge."
"I hope you have some stock options," Kerney said.
Brooks smiled gleefully and said yes.
Kerney left, questioning silently if SWAMI's software tricks might be used for intelligence gathering. The FBI already had Carnivore, an Internet wiretap system, in service. Wasn't that enough? Or did the feds want something that had a more global reach?
He followed the connection that ran from Phyllis Terrell to Father Mitchell, and on to the ambassador and Clarence Thayer. Could the murders have had anything to do with SWAMI?
At the top of La Bajada Hill, Santa Fe spread out below him and the mountains filled the horizon. Kerney barely noticed the soft sheen of mare's tail clouds nestled in the foothills. He keyed his microphone, spoke to the detective sergeant on duty, and asked for a court order to access Father Mitchell's e-mail accounts.
He gave the sergeant enough information to start the paperwork process, tossed the microphone on the passenger seat, called Sara on his department cell phone, and left a message for her not to come to Santa Fe for the weekend. He was going to be busy after all.
Outside Applewhite's hotel Bobby Sloan ate a gooey jelly doughnut and sipped lukewarm coffee from a vacuum jug, hoping the sugar and caffeine would keep him going. He hadn't eaten a real meal since lunch yesterday and he knew better than to load up on food if he wanted to stay awake.
While he didn't like going hungry, the upside was his stomach gas had eased off considerably. Maybe it was time to think about changing his diet.
Applewhite didn't move until ten in the morning. But when she did, she left in a hurry. Sloan tailed her to the Rodeo Road Business Park, where she parked and went inside a building marked by a sign on the front lawn that read, APT PER FORMA Five minutes later Charlie Perry arrived to join the party, followed by Lieutenant Molina, who parked at an adjacent building. He spotted Molina with his binoculars, and Sal pointed in sequence at the row of cars in front of the APT Performa building and made a camera clicking motion with his finger. Bobby got busy taking photographs and running plates.
He finished up as a car eased into an empty slot. The plate registered in his mind as he snapped the shutter: it was the same vehicle that had breezed through the guard checkpoint at the air base without stopping.
He got three good shots of the driver's face before the man entered the building.
Sloan accessed the floppy disk with the driver's license photo and MVD record he'd saved last night. The driver was Timothy In gram and he had a Kirtland Air Force Base address.
For whatever it was worth, another player in the game had been identified.
Tim Ingram tried without success to get interested in the shapely legs of the young woman who led him down the office corridor. Instead, the image of Applewhite sticking the syringe into Fred Browning's neck replayed through his mind, as it had since he'd awakened.
At a conference room Ingram gave the woman a weak smile, pushed through the door, and found Applewhite, Charlie Perry, and Clarence Thayer huddled at the far end of a large oval table. Thayer made a "join us" gesture and Ingram took a seat next to Perry. Applewhite looked at him briefly, expressionless.
Ingram concentrated his attention on Thayer, noting the expensive black wool turtleneck under a perfectly tailored gray sport coat. He'd last seen Thayer in army fatigues with colonel's eagles on the collar when both had been tasked to the SWAMI project. Officially, Thayer had "retired" to start APT Performa and Ingram had "resigned" from the service to go FBI. In truth both remained serving officers, as did Applewhite.
That left Charlie Perry the only true civilian in the room and therefore the one most likely to be slam-dunked should the need arise.
"Good, you're here, Tim," Thayer said in his Back Bay accent.
"Soon as I could make it, sir," Ingram said, thinking that Thayer could easily pass for a Kennedy with his lanky athletic frame, good looks, and patrician style.
"This is your show, Charlie," Thayer said, smiling graciously at the special agent.
"Bring us up to speed."
Nervously, almost turned away from Thayer, Perry laid out what he knew.
Kerney had factual knowledge he was being watched; factual knowledge that Phyllis Terrell's murder had been cleansed; factual knowledge of Mitchell's probe into SWAMI; factual knowledge of the existence of the SWAMI project. Additionally, he had made a hard evidence connection between Father Mitchell and Phyllis Terrell.
"Are there any other holes that need plugging?" Thayer asked.
"One of the Santa Fe detectives made a copy of the Mitchell evidence Agent Applewhite seized under a court order," Perry said.
"It's in Kerney's possession."
Thayer swung his attention to Applewhite.
"Does that cause a problem?"
"Not for SWAMI, sir," Applewhite replied.
"Although it could bring public attention to sensitive matters of an historical nature."
"Which is not our immediate concern," Thayer said.