‘I’m so familiar with this routine,’ Dan said, ‘I’d rather just compose the statement myself. I can use the computer if that’s all right with you.’
Herman Dorft obligingly left Dan alone with the computer, with the harsh fluorescent light and the sound of rain on the roof, and with the stale, bitter smell of cigarette smoke that had precipitated a thin yellowish film on the walls since the last time the room had been painted.
Twenty minutes later, he had just finished typing the statement and was about to go looking for a police notary, in whose presence he would sign what he had written, when the door opened and Michael Seames, the FBI agent, took one step inside. He said, ‘Hello there.’ He still seemed, to Dan, to be suffering chronological confusion: His face was that of a thirty-year-old, but his slumped shoulders and stiff movements made him seem like a seasoned Social Security recipient. ‘I’ve been looking for you, Haldane.’
‘Good day for ducks, huh?’ Dan said, getting to his feet.
‘Where are Mrs. McCaffrey and Melanie?’ Seames asked.
‘Hard to believe that everyone was worried about the drought just a few years ago. Now the winters get rainier every year.’
‘Two detectives charged with attempted murder, police violations of civil rights, several potential breaches of national security — the Bureau now has plenty of reasons to step into this case, Haldane.’
‘Myself, I’m building an ark,’ Dan said, picking up his typed statement and moving toward the door.
Seames didn’t get out of his way. ‘And we have moved in. We’re no longer just observers here. We’ve exercised the right of federal jurisdiction in these homicides.’
‘Good for you,’ Dan said.
‘You are, of course, obliged to cooperate with us.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ Dan said, wishing Seames would get the hell out of his way.
‘Where are Mrs. McCaffrey and Melanie?’
‘Probably at the movies,’ Dan said.
‘Damn it, Haldane—’
‘On a dreary day like this, they aren’t going to be at the beach or at Disneyland or having a picnic in Griffith Park, so why not the movies?’
‘I’m beginning to think you’re an asshole, Haldane.’
‘Well, at least it’s comforting to hear that you’re beginning to think.’
‘Captain Mondale warned me about you.’
‘Oh, don’t take that seriously, Agent Seames. Ross is such a kidder.’
‘You’re obstructing—’
‘No, it’s you who’s obstructing,’ Dan said. ‘You’re in my way.’ And as he spoke, he shouldered past Seames, through the door.
The FBI agent followed him down the hall to the busy uniformed-operations room, where Dan located a notary. ‘Haldane, you can’t protect them all by yourself. If you insist on handling it this way, they’re going to get snatched or killed, and you’re going to be to blame.’
Signing his statement in front of the notary, Dan said, ‘Maybe. Maybe they’ll get killed. But if I turn them over to you, they’ll positively be killed.’
Seames gaped at him. ‘Are you implying that I … that the FBI … that the government would murder that little girl? Because maybe she’s a Russian or Chinese research project? Or maybe because she’s one of our projects and she knows too much and now we want to shut her up before this mess becomes too public? Is that what you think?’
‘Crossed my mind.’
Spluttering and fuming, filled with either genuine outrage or a good imitation of it, Seames followed Dan from the notary to another desk where Herman Dorft was drinking black coffee and looking through a file of mug shots.
‘Are you crazy, Haldane, or what?’ Seames demanded.
‘Or what.’
‘We’re the government, for Christ’s sake. The United States government.’
‘I’m happy for you.’
‘This isn’t China, where the government knocks on a couple of hundred doors every night and a couple of hundred people disappear.’
‘How many disappear here? Ten a night? Makes me feel so much better.’
‘This isn’t Iran or Nicaragua or Libya. We aren’t killers. We’re here to protect the public.’
‘Does this stirring speech come with background music? It ought to, but I don’t hear any.’
‘We don’t murder people,’ Seames said flatly.
Handing his notarized statement to Dorft, Dan said to Seames, ‘All right, so the government itself, the institution of government in this country, doesn’t make a policy of killing people — except maybe with taxes and paperwork. But the government is composed of people, individuals, and your agency is composed of individuals, and don’t tell me that some of those individuals aren’t capable of murdering the McCaffreys in return for money or for political concerns, misguided idealism, or any of a thousand other reasons. Don’t try to tell me that everyone in your agency is so saintly and so God-fearing that a homicidal thought has never entered any of their minds, because I remember Waco, Texas, and the Weaver family in Idaho and more than a few other Bureau abuses of power, Agent Seames.’