by Steven James
He inserted another similar-looking slide. “We also found a rare plant known locally as sariba, the Decalepis hamiltonii that is also found in the hills around Kadapa. Also, Acacia campelli, and that’s a plant that is—”
“Let me guess,” Margaret interrupted, “found near Kadapa.”
“Not just there, but only there. Yes. At between three hundred and seven hundred meters above sea level.”
“So,” she concluded, “we’re looking for a facility in or near Kadapa, India.”
He seemed a little let down that she’d reached his conclusion before he could state it. “It would appear so. Yes.”
I already had my phone out. Agent Kantsos picked up on the second ring and I told him what Dr. Neubauer had found.
“Sounds reasonable. I’ve worked with the police in Andhra Pradesh. Bribes usually do the trick. I’ll put some feelers out, see what I can dig up.”
His words didn’t exactly surprise me—in many countries around the world bribes are the only way to grease the bureaucratic wheels enough to get anything done. I wished it weren’t that way, but it was the cost of doing business in the international community. Kantsos was up front and blunt about it and that much I appreciated. And he was experienced at working the system, which could play in our favor.
Margaret said, “I’ll contact FDA and PTPharmaceuticals, put some pressure on them to get those results.” She tapped the projection screen of Dr. Neubauer’s microscope. “You were able to figure this out in just a few hours. They’ve had plenty of time to identify the chemical composition of those pills. It’s time we get some answers.”
We all agreed to keep each other updated, then Margaret left for DC and I returned to my office to see if I could dig up anything on Tyree.
I had an idea that just might lead us in the right direction.
Flight manifests.
62
After school Tessa picked up Lien-hua from Ralph and Brineesha’s house and drove toward the shop in Alexandria where Lien-hua had seen the dress that she thought would be perfect for Tessa’s prom.
++
Back at her office at the J. Edgar Hoover Building, FBI Director Margaret Wellington hung up her phone a little more authoritatively than necessary.
She wasn’t getting anywhere with the FDA analysts.
It was time to move up the food chain.
Her brother’s death unnerved her deeply, not just the loss of life, but also the home invasion: by all appearances someone had slipped into his place and contributed in some way to his death.
Thinking about that, she couldn’t help but remember what’d happened to her last summer. Her life hadn’t been threatened directly, but very likely had been in danger.
And whenever she watched the DVD that a serial killer had left in her car—the footage of her sleeping in her bedroom—she wondered why he’d come into her home. Had he been planning to attack her? Was it all meant just to scare her later? And, of course, how many nights had he been there standing just a few feet away from her, watching her, filming her while she slept?
There was no conclusive proof that the man who’d killed the other women on the video was also the man who’d filmed her sleeping in her bedroom, but Margaret told herself that of course it was the same man. After all, who else could it have been?
But so far she hadn’t been able to convince herself.
Not completely.
Ever since she first saw that video, she’d been trying to find some confirmation that the person who’d filmed it was the man she suspected—a serial killer, now dead, who referred to himself as the Illusionist. His partner, known by the name of her online identity, Astrid, was in prison and so far had refused to concede if she was present when the video was taken.
Last year after first seeing the video, Margaret had installed a dead-bolt lock on her bedroom door.
It was tragic: the Director of the FBI was a prisoner in her own home. One of the most powerful women in the worldwide law enforcement and counterterrorism community was afraid to go to sleep.
There are many kinds of prisons and many kinds of doors.
And although she didn’t like to admit it to herself, she knew the truth—some of those doors never open. But here, today, with the probe into the suspicious suicide of her brother, was her chance to at last open one. Even if she couldn’t solve her mystery, maybe she could solve his.
This man, Corporal Tyree, had left his prints on the medicine cabinet. But was he alone? And why was he in the house in the first place? And how did he know Corey?
So.
Up the food chain.
One more call should do it.
She contacted the FDA commissioner himself and related just how thrilled she was that his people were taking so long analyzing the pills that had been found in Montana.
“I’ll be giving a press conference at five o’clock,” she told him firmly, “and I’ll either announce that our two agencies are working closely together on this, or that the FBI is investigating this case by itself without FDA’s cooperation. Your choice.”
++
Since leaving the meeting with Margaret and Dr. Neubauer, I’d been on the Federal Digital Database searching airline flight manifests to and from Hyderabad and Chennai, the nearest international airports to Kadapa, to see if there was any record of Corporal Keith Tyree traveling through there.
So far, nothing.
Finally, figuring that I could work just as easily on my laptop at Ralph and Brineesha’s house as I could here at my office desk, I left the Academy. If time and circumstances allowed, I thought I could let Lien-hua cater to her quirks later tonight and we could stream Sleepless in Seattle, so I picked up a bag of Fritos for her at a gas station.
A small way to celebrate her continued recovery.
Fortunately, at this time of day, traffic entering DC wasn’t nearly as bad as the traffic leaving it, and I merged into the flow toward Ralph’s house.
63
Tony answered when I rang the doorbell.
He had his mom’s light chocolate skin color and his dad’s build. A typical twelve-year-old boy, he was into soccer, skateboarding, and video games and thought that girls were gross—but if you pressed him, he’d admit that he “kind of” liked “some stuff” about them.
“Hello, Mr. Bowers.” He was cordial and polite, admittedly more from the influence of his mother than his father.
“Hey, Tony.”
He let me in and called over his shoulder, “Mom! It’s Mr.—”
“Yes, I heard. I’ll be right there.” It sounded like she was in the first room off the hallway—what used to be Ralph’s study but which was now being transformed into a nursery for their little girl, who was due in July.
I closed the front door. A duffel bag and a rolled-up camouflage sleeping bag sat next to it. “Sleepover tonight?” I asked Tony.
“I’m going over to Eric’s.”
“Nice.”
Ralph’s imposing seventy-two-inch wide-screen TV dominated the west wall of his living room. He and Brineesha often let Tony invite his friends over to play video games on it, so the room was preteen boy–proof, with almost nothing fragile in it. An expansive leather couch and a matching recliner that no longer reclined faced the television.
I said to Tony, “Your dad tells me he’s been improving at ‘Call of Duty’ lately.”
Tony shrugged. “Sometimes I let him win. He gets moody when he loses too much.”
I smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Brineesha rounded the corner. She had on one of Ralph’s double-XL T-shirts and a pair of blue jeans overalls with the cuffs rolled up. With a paintbrush and splatters of pink on her cheeks and the backs of her hands, it wasn’t hard to guess what she’d been doing.
“Hey, Brin.”
“Good to see you,
Pat.” She held up the paintbrush. “Working on the nursery.”
“How’s it coming?”
“Good.” She patted her tummy. “We should have everything ready in plenty of time.” She had a proud mother’s smile, and I was glad all over again that she and Ralph were expecting. She was showing, but with the overalls and oversize T-shirt on, it was hard to tell.
She invited me into the kitchen, asked if I wanted anything to eat or drink, and when I declined, told me that Lien-hua and Tessa had gone dress shopping and would hopefully be back within the hour.
“How did Lien-hua look? Was she feeling okay?”
“You need to stop mothering her and trust that she knows what she can handle.”
“Just trying to be a good fiancée.”
“A slightly overbearing one.”
A concerned one, I thought, but said, “Okay, I hear you. By the way, did Tessa mention when Aiden was coming by to pick her up?”
“Six thirty. They’re going out for supper with some friends. I don’t think the prom officially starts until eight.”
I looked unnecessarily at my watch and saw that it was already after four. “That’s not going to give her a whole lot of time to get ready. Don’t girls usually take—”
“You be careful now. Besides, you know Tessa—it shouldn’t take her long at all. Lien-hua and I can help her.”
“Do you know anything about this dress that Lien-hua was so keen on having her look at?”
Brin shook her head. “All I know is that it’s black and strapless.”
“Strapless?”
She looked at me evenly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“It’s just that, strapless, I mean it’s—”
“Really, Pat. You don’t need to be so protective of the women in your life. Tessa told me how you like checking up on the boys she dates.”
“Did she.”
“Mm-hmm.” Brin tilted her paintbrush at me scoldingly. “This is her special night. You be nice to that boy. Tessa likes him. Don’t go embarrassing her.”
“I won’t.” But I thought again of the call I’d put through to the school’s public safety officer. I still hadn’t heard back from him. “I want it to be her special night too,” I told Brineesha honestly.
“And take lots of pictures. This is her first and only prom.”
“Pictures. Got it.”
Her gaze shifted to my computer bag. “We moved Ralph’s desk to our bedroom, but feel free to go in there if you want to work until he gets here.”
“The dining room table will be fine.”
“Really, you’re welcome to the desk. Our bedroom’s not nearly as bad as yours.”
“You’ve been talking to Ralph.”
“He may have mentioned something. Is Tessa really afraid to go in there?”
I avoided that question. “The table will be great, Brin. Thanks.”
“I need to finish up in the nursery; make yourself at home. You know the Internet code.”
Through the doorway I saw Tony had turned on the TV and was pulling up a first-person shooter game I didn’t recognize. It appeared to involve taking out some rather impressive-looking aliens.
Brin left for the nursery, and I set up shop at the dining room table to see what I could get done before Tessa and Lien-hua made it back home.
64
Providentially, Tessa found a parking spot just about across the street from the dress store. She helped Lien-hua out of the car and walked cautiously beside her as she crutched through the crosswalk to the store.
Inside, a smiling clerk who didn’t look much older than Tessa bopped toward them. “Hello, welcome to Tirabelli’s. And can I help you find a dress this afternoon?”
“Yes, thank you.” Lien-hua’s eyes were on the row of prom dresses along the back wall. “But I think I might already know what we’re looking for.”
The girl followed Lien-hua’s gaze, then assessed Tessa up and looked at her slyly, as if the two of them were privy to some sort of secret. “A prom dress?”
“Yeah. It’s tonight.”
She blinked. “Your prom is tonight?”
“In like four hours. I figured I didn’t want to wait until the last minute.” She shared a look with Lien-hua.
“I see.” The clerk tried to recover gracefully; obviously she was not used to having girls shop for dresses this close to their proms. “Well, step this way. Let’s see what we can find for you.”
The lineup of dresses was a little overwhelming to Tessa, who usually shopped at thrift stores. Some of the skimpy ones reminded her of a pickup line she’d heard once in a movie: “Nice gownless evening strap you have there.”
When she saw the price tags on some of the nicer dresses—actually, even the ones that weren’t so impressive—she understood why she didn’t shop at places like this.
“Um, Lien-hua, we should . . . I mean, these are way too—”
“It’s okay.” She found a chair and Tessa helped her as she lowered herself onto it.
“So.” The girl beamed at Tessa. “What exactly are you looking for?”
Lien-hua pointed to one. “Let’s start there. See if it’s close to the right size.”
Tessa lifted its hanger.
Black. Strapless. Satiny but not too shiny. It had lace that spread over the top of the fabric at the bottom and made Tessa think that it would make her look like she was covered in a smooth, black waterfall.
“I love it.”
She held it up in front of her and it looked like it just might fit. She was afraid to look at the price tag.
“Oh, that’ll look just gorgeous on you,” Dress Shop Girl gushed. “With your eye color and your hair. It’ll be perfect.”
Tessa had never in her life consciously chosen something because it matched her eyes or her hair.
Lien-hua indicated toward the fitting rooms. “Try it on.”
A few minutes later Tessa emerged wearing the dress. Thankfully, the saleslady had gone to help someone else who’d just walked in and only Lien-hua was there waiting to see her.
“How does it look?” Tessa asked nervously. In the fitting room she’d looked at the price. She couldn’t remember ever trying on anything this expensive.
“This boy, Aiden, he’s going to be blown away. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, but I’m telling you I can’t afford this thing. We should probably—”
Lien-hua held up her hand. “I want to get it for you.”
“No, it’s too much. I’m serious. Especially for something I’m only going to wear once.”
“Well, twice, at least.”
“Twice?”
“The wedding.”
“Oh, well, yeah. I guess. Sure.”
Lien-hua looked satisfied. “Yes, I think this will be the perfect dress for my maid of honor.”
A pause as that comment settled in. “Your what?”
“Full disclosure: I had ulterior motives bringing you here. Since last week I’ve been wanting to ask you to be my maid of honor.”
Tessa was quiet. “I don’t think I’m really maid-of-honor material.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, first of all, I have no idea what a maid of honor is even supposed to do. I mean, just help make you look pretty? Believe me, I’m no expert at that.” Then she realized how that might have sounded. “Not that you need anyone to . . . I mean—”
“I know what you’re saying. But in any case, you do know how to make someone look pretty. Just look at you.”
“I’m not pretty.”
“You are. Very pretty.”
Tessa said nothing.
Sure, Patrick told her she was pretty too, but he had to. He was her dad. The only time boys ever told her she was pretty was when . . . well, when they had ulter
ior motives of their own.
Lien-hua’s just asking you to be the maid of honor because you’re Patrick’s daughter. She feels obligated to come to you. There’s tons of other people she could ask instead.
“Well?” Lien-hua said.
“Um . . . Yeah, I’d be honored. Really, I would.”
Lien-hua smiled, and after all she’d been through this week, it was nice to see. “So, what about this dress?”
“I’ll pay you back. I promise.”
“Let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s just get you ready for your big night.”
65
The public safety officer called me back on my cell.
I stared at the screen for a moment before answering. Although I wanted to find out about Aiden Ryeson, I also knew Tessa might very well resent my checking up on him like this, if she found out.
The phone rang again.
If she found out.
The dad in me took over and I answered the phone.
“Agent Bowers here.”
“Sir, this is Officer Ted Young from the school. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to return your call earlier.”
“That’s alright.”
“You phoned regarding Aiden Ryeson?”
I took a deep breath.
It’s not too late, just tell him you don’t need the information after all.
But then the counterargument: No, Pat, this is about your daughter. She has a history of going out with boys who have a violent streak. Remember San Diego? Remember what happened out there?
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, he’s a good kid. Never any problems from my end. I called his track coach and he hasn’t had any issues with him either. Good grades, no detentions.” He paused and then added, “Anything I need to know?”
“No,” I told him. “I appreciate your time.”