Academy, and it bothered me more than I let on. Most people, it seemed, maintained their belief that his wife had left because of me when, in fact, she had left because of another man.
Upstairs, the line was long in the PX, a mannikin modeling the latest sweatshirt and range pants, and Thanksgiving pumpkins and turkeys in the windows. Beyond, in the Boardroom, the TV was loud, and some people were already into popcorn and beer. We sat as far away from everyone as we could, both of us sipping coffee.
'What's your slant on the France connection?' I asked.
'Obviously, this individual is intelligent and follows the news. Our relations with France were very strained during their nuclear weapons testing. You may recall the violence, vandalism, boycotting of French wine and other products. There was a lot of protesting outside French embassies, the U.S. very much involved.'
'But that was a couple years ago.'
'Doesn't matter. Wounds heal slowly.' He stared out the window at darkness gathering.
'And more to the point, France would not appreciate our exporting a serial killer to them. I can only suppose that is what deadoc is implying. Cops from France and other nations have been worrying for years that our problem would eventually become theirs. As if violence is a disease that can spread.'
'Which it is.'
He nodded, reaching for his coffee again.
'Maybe that would make more sense if we believed the same person killed ten people here and in Ireland,' I said.
'Kay, we can't rule out anything.' He sounded tired as he said that again.
I shook my head. 'He's taking credit for someone else's murders and now threatening us. He probably has no idea how different his M.O. is from what we've seen in the past. Of course, we can't rule out anything, Benton. But I know what my findings tell me, and I believe identifying this recent victim is going to be the key.'
'You always believe that.' He smiled, playing with his coffee stirrer.
'I know who I work for. Right this minute, I work for that poor woman whose torso is in my freezer.'
It was now completely dark out, the Boardroom filling fast with healthy, clean-living men and women in color-coded fatigues. The noise was making it difficult to talk, and I needed to see Lucy before I left.
'You don't like Ring.' Wesley reached around to the back of his chair and collected his suit jacket. 'He's bright and seems sincerely motivated.'
'You definitely profiled the last part wrong,' I said as I got up. 'But you are right about what you said first. I don't like him.'
'I thought that was rather obvious by your demeanor.' We moved around people who were looking for chairs and setting down pitchers of beer.
'I think he's dangerous.'
'He's vain and wants to make a name for himself,' Wesley said.
'And you don't think that's dangerous?' I looked over at him.
'It describes almost everyone I've ever worked with.'
'Except for me, I hope.'
'You, Dr Scarpetta, are an exception to just about everything I can think of.'
We were walking through a long corridor, heading to the lobby, and I did not want to leave him right now. I felt lonely and wasn't sure why.
'I would love for us to have dinner,' I said, 'but Lucy's got something to show me.'
'What makes you think I don't already have plans?' He held the door for me. The thought bothered me, even though I knew he was teasing.
'Let's wait until I can get away from here,' he said, and we were walking toward the parking lot now. 'Maybe over the weekend, when we can relax a little more. I'll cook this time. Where are you parked?'
'Over here.' I pointed the key's remote control.
Doors unlocked and the interior light went on. Typically, we did not touch. We never had when someone might see.
'Sometimes I hate this,' I said as I got into my car. 'It's fine to talk about body parts, rape and murder all day long, but not to hug each other, hold hands. God forbid anybody should see that.' I started the engine. 'Tell me how normal that is? It's not like we're still having an affair or committing a crime.' I yanked my seatbelt across my chest. 'Is there some don't-ask-don't-tell FBI rule no one's let me in on?'
'Yes.'
He kissed me on the lips as a group of agents walked by.
'So don't tell anyone,' he said.
Moments later, I parked in front of the Engineering Research Facility, or ERF, a huge, space age-looking building where the FBI conducted its classified technical research and development. If Lucy knew all of what went on in the labs here, she did not tell, and there were few areas of the building where I was allowed, even when escorted by her. She was waiting by the front door as I pointed the remote control at my car,
which was not responding.
'It won't work here,' she said.
I looked up at the eerie rooftop of antennae and satellite dishes, sighing as I manually locked doors with the key.
'You'd think I'd remember after all these times,' I muttered.
'Your investigator friend, Ring, tried to walk me over here after the consultation,' she said, scanning her thumb in a biometric lock by the door.
'He's not my friend,' I told her.
The lobby was high-ceilinged and arranged with glass cases displaying clunky, inefficient radio and electronic equipment used by law enforcement before ERF was built.
'He asked me out again,' she said.
Corridors were monochromatic and seemed endless, and I was forever impressed with the silence and sense that no one was here. Scientists and engineers worked behind shut doors in spaces big enough to accommodate automobiles, helicopters and small planes. Hundreds of Bureau personnel were employed at ERF, yet they had virtually no contact with any of us across the street. We did not know their names.
'I'm sure there are a million people who would like to ask you out,' I said as we boarded an elevator, and Lucy scanned her thumb again.
'Usually, not after they've been around me very long,' she said.
'I don't know, I haven't gotten rid of you yet.'
But she was very serious. 'Once I start talking shop, the guys turn off. But he likes a challenge, if you know the type.'
'I know it all too well.'
'He wants something from me, Aunt Kay.'
'Would you like to hazard a guess? And where are you taking me, by the way?'
'I don't know. But I just have this feeling.' She opened a door to the virtual environment lab, adding, 'I have a rather interesting idea.'
Lucy's ideas were always more than interesting. Usually they were frightening. I followed her into a room of virtual system processors and graphic computers stacked on top of each other, and countertops scattered with tools, computer boards, chips and peripherals like DataGloves and helmet-mounted displays. Electrical cords were bundled in thick hanks and tied back from the blank expanse of linoleum flooring where Lucy routinely lost herself in cyberspace.
She picked up a remote control and two video displays blinked on, and I recognized the photographs deadoc had sent to me. They were big and in color on the screens, and I began to get nervous.
'What are you doing?' I asked my niece.
'The basic question has always been, does an immersion into an environment actually improve the operator's performance,' she said, typing computer commands. 'You never got a chance to be immersed in this environment. The crime scene.'
Both of us stared at the bloody stumps and lined-up body parts on the monitors, and a chill crept through me.
'But suppose you could have that chance now?' Lucy went on. 'What if you could be inside deadoc's room?'
I started to interrupt, but she would not let me.
'What else might you see? What else might you do?' she said, and when she got like this, she was almost manic. 'What else might you learn about the victim and him?'