BLACK NOTICE. PATRICIA CORNWELL

“Now what? Is the Man from U.N.C.L.E. coming to pick us up?” I bitterly said.

“I just called a taxi. I believe the Man from U.N.C.L.E. retired a few years ago.”

We walked out to one of the quiet side streets, and minutes later a taxi pulled over. We climbed in and Talley stared at the briefcase in my lap.

“Yes,” I answered his unspoken question.

When we reached my hotel, I took him up to my room, because there was no other place we could talk without the risk of being overheard. I tried Marino, and he didn’t answer.

“I need to get back to Virginia,” I said.

“That’s easy enough to arrange,” he said. “Whenever you want.”

He hung the do not disturb sign outside the door and fastened the burglar chain.

“First thing in the morning.”

We settled in the sitting area by the window, a small table between us.

“I take it Madame Stvan opened up to you,” he said. “That was the harder nut to crack, if you must know. By now the poor woman’s so paranoid-and for good reason-we didn’t think she’d tell the truth to anyone. I’m glad my instincts were right.”

“Your instincts?” I asked.

“Yes.” His eyes stayed on mine. “I knew, if anyone could get through to her, it would be you. Your reputation precedes you and she can’t have anything but the utmost respect for you. But it helps just a little that I have personal insight about you, too.” He paused. “Because of Lucy.”

“You know my niece?” I didn’t believe him.

“We were in various training programs at the same time in Glynco,” he replied, referring to the national academy in Glynco, Georgia, where ATF, Customs, Secret Service, Border Patrol and some sixty other law enforcement agencies did their basic training. “I used to feel kind of song for her, in a way. Her presence always managed to generate a lot of talk about you, as if she didn’t have any talents on her own.”

“I can’t do a tenth of what she can,” I said.

“Most people can’t.”

“What does any of this have to do with her?” I wanted to know.

“I think she has to be Icarus and fly too close to the sun because of you. I hope she doesn’t push that myth too far and fall from the sky,”

The comment shot fear through me. I had no idea what Lucy was doing right now. Talley was right about what he said, too. My niece always had to do everything bigger, better, faster and riskier than I did, as if competing against me would finally win the love she didn’t believe she deserved.

“Hair transferred from the killer to his victims in the Paris cases is definitely not the hair of the unidentified man in my cooler,” I said, and I explained the rest to him.

“But this weird hair was on his clothes?” Talley tried to understand.

“On the inside of them. Just think of this as a hypothetical. Let’s say the clothing was worn by the killer and his body is covered with this dense, long baby-fine hair. Só it transfers to the inside of his clothing, which he takes off and makes his victim put on before he drowns him.”

“The victim being the guy in the container. Thomas.” Talley paused. ‘This hair’s all over Loup-Garou’s body? Then he obviously doesn’t shave it:’

“It wouldn’t be easy shaving your entire body on a regular basis. Most likely, he shaves only those areas people might see:’

“And there’s no effective treatment. No drug or anything.”

“Lasers are being used with some success. But he may not know that. Or more likely, his family wasn’t going to permit him to show up at a clinic, especially after he started killing.”

“Why do you think he exchanged clothes with the man you found in the container? With Thomas.”

“If you’re going to escape on a ship,” I surmised, “you wouldn’t want to be in designer clothes, assuming your theory about the hand-me-downs is true. It could also be spite, contempt. Getting in the last word. We could speculate all day long, but there’s never a formula, only the damage left behind:’

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