her name. I hardly know Nendick, either. He’s just some techni
cal guy I sometimes see around.’
The room went quiet.
‘FBI has got to be told as well,’ Neagley said. his isn’t
just about Armstrong now. There’s a kidnap victim dead or in
serious danger. That’s the Bureau’s jurisdiction, no question.
Plus the interstate homicide. That’s their bag too.’
The room stayed very quiet. Stuyvesant sighed and looked
round at each of the others, slowly and carefully, one at a time.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I agree. It’s gone too far. They need to know.
God knows I don’t want to, but I’ll tell them. I’ll let us take the
hit. I’ll hand everything over to them.’
There was silence. Nobody spoke. There was nothing to say.
It was exactly the right thing to do, in the circumstances.
Approval would have seemed sarcastic, and commiseration
wasn’t appropriate. For the Nendick couple and two unrelated
families called Armstrong, maybe, but not for Stuyvesant.
‘Meanwhile we’ll focus on Armstrong,’ he said. Fhat’s all we
can do.’
Tomorrow is North Dakota again,’ Froelich said. ‘More open
air fun and games. Same place as before. Not very secure. We
leave at ten.’
‘And Thursday?’
Fhursday is Thanksgiving Day. He’s serving turkey dinners
in a homeless shelter here in D.C. He’ll be very exposed.’
There was a long moment of silence. Stuyvesant sighed
again, heavily, and placed his hands palms down on the long
wooden table.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Be back in here at seven o’clock tomorrow
morning. I’m sure the Bureau will be delighted to send over a
liaison guy.’
194
Then he levered himself upright and left the room to head
back to his office, where he would make the calls that would put
a permanent asterisk next to his career.
‘I feel helpless,’ Froelich said. ‘I want to be more proactive.’
‘Don’t like playing defence?’ he asked.
They were in her bed, in her room. It was larger than the
guest room. Prettier. And quieter, because it was at the back of
the house. The ceiling was smoother. Although it would take
angled sunlight to really test it. Which would happen at sunset
instead of in the morning, because the window faced the other
way. The bed was warm. The house was warm. It was like a
cocoon of warmth in the cold grey city night.
‘Defence is OK,’ she said. ‘But attack is defence, isn’t it? In a
situation like this? But we always let things come to us. Then
we just run away from them. We’re too operational. We’re not
investigative enough.’
‘You have investigators,’ he said. ‘Like the guy who watches
the movies.’
She nodded against his shoulder. ¢I’he Office of Protection
Research. It’s a strange role. Kind of academic, rather than
specific. Strategic, rather than tactical.’
‘So do it yourself. Try a few things.’
‘Like what?’
‘We’re back to the original evidence, with Nendick crapping
out. So we have to start over. Yo, u should concentrate on the
thumbprint.’
‘It’s not on file.’
‘Files have glitches. Files get updated. Prints get added. You
should try again, every few days. And you should widen the
search. Try other countries. Try Interpol.’
‘I doubt if these guys are foreign.’
‘But maybe they’re Americans who travelled. Maybe they got
in trouble in Canada or Europe. Or Mexico or South America.’
‘Maybe,’ she said.
‘And you should check the thumbprint thing- as an MO. You
know, search the databases to see if anybody ever signed
threatening letters with their thumb before. How far back do
the archives go?’
195
q’o the dawn of time.’
‘So put a twenty-year limit on it. I guess way back at the dawn
of time plenty of people signed things with their thumbs.’
She smiled, sleepily. He could feel it against his shoulder.
‘Before they learned to write,’ he said.
She didn’t reply. She was fast asleep, breathing slow,
snuggled against his shoulder. He eased his position and felt a
shallow dip on his side of the mattress. He wondered if Joe had
made it. He lay quiet for a spell and then craned his arm up and
switched out the light.
Seemed like about a minute and a half later they were up again