“Like the numbers that Viggie gave you?”
“Yes. With computers getting faster all the time and the practice of running hundreds of millions of computers in massive parallel assaults the encryption standards keep getting ratcheted upward. But, still, all you have to do is add a few more digits to the public key and the time required to break it goes up thousands, if not millions of years.”
“But your research might just throw a monkey wrench in all that.”
“The encryption community is betting on the fact that there is no shortcut to factoring because in 2,000 years of searching no one’s found one. And yet Viggie is able to do it from time to time. Can she do it for bigger numbers? If so, as I said, no electronic transmission is safe and the world as we know it would be drastically different.”
“Back to typewriters, couriers and tin cans strung with wire?”
“It would shut down business and government; the poor consumer would have no idea how to function. And generals could no longer safely communicate with their armies. I doubt most people realize that as late as the Seventies, before public key cryptography was invented, private businesses and governments had to send thousands of couriers out constantly with new codebooks and passwords. No one wants to go back to those days.”
He said, “It’s incredible how our entire civilization is based on not being able to factor huge numbers quickly.”
“We made the bed, now we have to lie in it.”
“Obviously the public isn’t aware of any of this?”
“It would scare the public to death.”
“So do you think there’s a shortcut?”
“Viggie makes me think there might be one. But despite that, my biggest worry right now isn’t about numbers, it’s about Viggie. I can’t let anything happen to her.”
“You think someone knows Viggie might be the key to stopping the world in its tracks?”
“You said Len thought there were spies here. Her father knew about her ability and he’s dead. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Sean once more put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to her. The FBI and police are around; the place is crawling with guards.”
“That was true before Len was killed,” she pointed out.
“But now I’m on the case.”
“And how exactly do you propose to protect Viggie?”
“How many bedrooms do you have in your bungalow?”
“Four. Why?”
“One for Viggie, one for you and one for me and one left over.”
“You, moving in with me?”
“If I stay in the main house, there’s no way I could get to her in time in case something happened.”
“I’ll have to get Champ’s approval and talk to Viggie. I get off duty tomorrow around six in the evening. How about then?”
“Why don’t you just move into Viggie’s cottage?”
“There are too many reminders of Monk there for her. I thought taking her away from that would be best.”
“How will you explain it to Viggie?”
“I’ll think of something.”
Alicia walked off.
Sean stood staring after her when his cell phone buzzed. He looked at the number and groaned. It was Joan Dillinger. How was he going to explain taking on not one, but two new assignments? The answer was clear. He just wasn’t going to answer the damn phone.
He trudged back to his room and wondered how he was managing to dig the hole he was in ever deeper.
Chapter 31
When Horatio Barnes returned to Linda Sue Buchanan’s house that evening her man, Daryl, didn’t look too happy about what his little lady was planning. He was a big, sloppy fellow, his greasy T-shirt stretched wide over both chest and belly. He held the baby in one beefy paw and a can of Michelob in the other.
Daryl bellowed, “You don’t even know this little dude, Lindy. He might be some damn sex rapist for all you know.”
“Well, if you think about it, most rapists are sex rapists,” Horatio said pleasantly. “In fact I’ve seen a few of them in prison.”
“See, what’d I tell you? Dude’s been in the joint,” Daryl declared.
“No, I consulted with several state prison systems to counsel inmates. But unlike my patients I could leave at the end of the day.”
Linda Sue checked her purse and pulled out her keys. “We’re going in separate cars, Daryl, and I got my Mace and this.” She held out a compact revolver.
Daryl looked relieved at the sight of the firearm. “Well if he tries anything you just shoot his ass.”
“That’s the plan,” Linda Sue said, matter-of-factly checking the ammo in her gun.
“Hold on a minute, folks,” Horatio said. “First, no one’s shooting anybody. And by the way do you have a permit for that thing?”
Daryl snorted. “Hell this is Tennessee, man, ain’t need no permit to carry a gun in good old Tennessee.”
“You might want to check that again,” Horatio said. “And I’m here only to talk to Linda Sue’s grandmother. I told her she could just give me the directions to the place and I’d go myself.”
Daryl whipped around to look at her. “Is that right? So why you going then?”
“I’m going so I get paid, you dumb-ass,” she snapped.
“I tell you what, I’ll give you the hundred dollars right now, and you can just hang here with your debonair man about town,” Horatio said while Daryl gave him a confused look.
“No way. My understanding was that a hundred bucks was the minimum and if the information Granny got is real good, it’d be worth more. Maybe a lot more.”
“Well, that wasn’t my understanding.”
“Do you want to go see Granny or not?”
“A hundred bucks! Damn!” Daryl said as the amount finally sank into his clouded head.
“Okay, you win. Let’s go,” Horatio said.
“Thought you’d see it my way,” Linda Sue said with a little smirk.
Daryl called after them from the porch. “Hey, Lindy, if you got to shoot him make damn sure you got the money first.”
“Well, if she shot me, she could take all my money since I’d hardly be in a position to object,” Horatio said helpfully.
“Hey, that’s right,” Daryl agreed excitedly. “Baby, you listening to this?”
Horatio held up a cautionary hand. “But then she’d have to spend the rest of her life in prison for murder and armed robbery. In fact, in good old Tennessee that might just get you the death penalty. And that might apply to accessories before the fact. I hope you recognize your role.”
Daryl simply stared at him, his mind unable to form a response.
Horatio turned to Linda Sue. “Make sure you don’t shoot yourself.”
“I’ve got the damn safety thingy on,” she snapped.
“That’d be quite a feat, since revolvers don’t have safeties.”
“Oh,” Linda Sue said.
“Yeah, oh.”
Chapter 32
The nursing home was about an hour’s drive away. When he walked into the facility, the odor of human urine and feces hit Horatio like a sledgehammer. He’d been in these state-run places before treating people for depression. Hell, who wouldn’t be depressed having to spend their Golden Years in a festering dump like this? Old folks were stacked like packing crates in their wheelchairs and walkers up against the wall. From down the hall the sounds of canned laughter from a TV floated to Horatio and Linda Sue as they headed to the reception area. The laugh track was insufficient to cover the moans and groans coming from the Greatest Generation abandoned in this stench-filled pile of concrete and crushed hopes.
Linda Sue moved steadfastly ahead, somehow ignoring the human misery on all sides of her.
Two minutes later they were in Granny’s room, a semiprivate ten-by-ten with its own TV that didn’t appear to be working. Granny’s roommate was out but Granny herself was sitting in a chair in a checkered housecoat, red, swol
len feet bursting forth from her tattered slippers. Her gray hair, what was left of it, was flattened under a net. Her face was saggy and lined, her teeth yellowed and worn down in many places. Yet her eyes were clear and steady. They moved from Linda Sue to Horatio and then back to her granddaughter.
“Haven’t seen you for a while, Lindy,” Granny said in a mellow southern accent.
Lindy Sue looked extremely put out by this comment. “Been busy, got kids to raise and a man to keep happy.”
“Which man might that be? The one just out of prison or the one headed to prison?”
Horatio had to stifle a chuckle. Old Granny was clearly not suffering from dementia.
“This here feller,” Lindy said, pointing at Horatio. “He wants to know some stuff ’bout folks that used to live in the neighborhood while you were still there.”
Granny’s gaze swiveled around to rest on Horatio. There was intrigue in those old eyes, he could see. Probably she would welcome anything to get her mind off this place.
“I’m Horatio Barnes,” he began, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you. And thank you for your time.”
“Hazel Rose,” she replied. “Time is the only thing I got plenty of in this place. Now who do you want to know about?”
He told her about the Maxwells.
She nodded. “I remember them, sure. Frank Maxwell cut quite a figure in his uniform. And those boys they had; big, good-looking fellows they all were.”
“And the daughter, Michelle? Do you remember her?”
“I do. Now why don’t you tell me why you want to know all this?”
“You’ll probably find it very boring.”
“I doubt it could compete with this place in the boredom department, so please go ahead and humor an old woman.”
“I’ve been engaged by the family to find out something. Something that happened when Michelle was around six. That would have been about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years ago.”
“Happened? Like what?”
“Like something that would have made Michelle’s personality change.”
Linda Sue snorted. “Hell, a six-year-old ain’t got no personality.”
“On the contrary,” Horatio said. “A child’s permanent personality is substantially formed by age six.” Linda Sue snorted again and started fiddling with her purse clasp while Horatio turned his attention back to Hazel. “Did you notice anything like that? I know it was a long time ago but it would really be a big help if you could remember.”
Hazel seemed to reflect on this for a bit, pursing her lips as she did so.
Linda Sue finally broke the silence. “I’m going out for a smoke.” She rose and then wagged a finger at Horatio. “And there’s only one way in and out of this place, so don’t you even think about trying to scoot off without you know what.” She flicked what she probably assumed was a sincere smile in her granny’s direction and left.
“How much did you promise to pay her?” Hazel asked as soon as her granddaughter was out of earshot.
Horatio smiled, pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “A hundred bucks. I’d much rather give it to you.”
Hazel waved this gesture off. “I don’t have anything to spend money on in this place. Just give it to Lindy. Way the girl goes through deadbeat men, she’ll need it. Four babies by four different sperm donors, excuse my French, and she’ll probably have four more before she’s done.” She sat quiet for a few moments and Horatio decided to ride it out.
“How is Michelle?” Hazel asked.
“She’s been better,” Horatio said frankly.
“I followed her career,” Hazel admitted. “Read about her in the papers and all.”
“You did? Why?”
“Look what the girl did with herself. Olympic athlete. Secret Service. Girl’s done herself proud. Always knew she would.”
“How?”
“Like you said, with a child you can tell how they’re going to be from a pretty early age. That girl was stubborn and determined. I remember thinking about her that it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. And that girl was not going to let anything or anyone stand in her way.”
“You would’ve made a good psychologist.”
“I wanted to be a doctor. Graduated third in my class in college.”
“What happened?”
“My older brother wanted to be a doctor too. And back then the boys got what they wanted over the girls. So I stayed home, took care of my ailing parents and then got married, had my babies, my husband dropped dead of a coronary the day after he retired, and now here I am. Not much of a life, but it’s the only one I’ve got.”
“Raising a family is a pretty important job.”
“I’m not saying I regret any of it. But everybody has dreams. Some people, like Michelle, fight hard enough to realize theirs.”
“So did you notice a difference in her?”
“Yes. I couldn’t say it was when she was six. Too many years ago, you understand. But all of a sudden the child wouldn’t meet my eye and we were friends, had her over for little tea parties and such with some of the other neighborhood children. Then she stopped coming. Things would make her jump, or cry. Tried to talk to her mother, but Sally Maxwell didn’t want to hear about it. As it was they moved away shortly thereafter anyway.”
“And do you have an idea of what might have happened to cause the change in Michelle?”
“I’ve thought about it over the years, but nothing ever popped out at me.”
“One of the things that her family told me was that she became increasingly sloppy. And that hasn’t changed.”
“I wasn’t really invited over to their house much. Sally had her hands full, what with Frank gone so much with work and all.”
“I would’ve thought police work there would’ve had pretty regular hours.”
“Michelle was a late baby for them. Frank was trying hard to get on with a major city police force. He worked during the day and was taking night courses at a local college to get a master’s degree in criminal justice.”
“Ambitious guy. So nothing else you can tell me?”
“Well, there is one thing that’s puzzled me. Probably has nothing to do with what you’re looking at.”
“Right now, I’ll take anything.”
“Well, the Maxwells had a beautiful rose hedge that ran in front of their house. Frank planted it for an anniversary present to Sally. It was a pretty thing and the aroma. I used to go over there just to smell the flowers.”
“It’s not there anymore.”
“That’s right. I went to bed one night and woke up the next morning and somebody had chopped it all down.”
“Did you ever find out who did it?”
She shook her head. “Frank figured it was some kids he’d busted for drunk driving, but I’m not so sure about that. Teenage boys, what do they know from flowers? They would’ve slashed Frank’s tires or thrown rocks through the windows.”
“Do you remember when this was?”
She stared at the ceiling, the lips pursed again. “Nearly thirty years ago, I expect.”
“Or maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight?”
“Could be, yes.”
Horatio sat back, deep in thought. Finally he rose and took out his wallet. Hazel immediately held up her hand.
“Give the money to Lindy. She’ll make your life miserable until you do.”
But Horatio wasn’t taking money out of his wallet. He wrote something down on the back of a card and handed it to her. “This is the name and number of a woman I know down here who can get you into a facility that’s a lot better. Give me a day to make the arrangements and then give her a call.”
“I don’t have money for a better facility.”
“It’s not how much money you have; it’s who you know, Hazel. And the place I’m thinking of has ongoing classes in different subjects, including medicine, if you’re still interested.”
The old woman took
the card. “I thank you,” she said quietly. As Horatio turned to leave, she said, “If you see Michelle, would you tell her Hazel Rose said hello? And that I’m real proud of her?”
“Consider it done.”
Horatio walked down the hall, found Lindy flirting with a burly attendant in the visitor’s lounge, paid the sullen woman off and fled the state-supported hellhole.
As he climbed into his car he started wondering how vanishing rose hedges might have ended up destroying Michelle Maxwell’s life nearly three decades later.
Chapter 33
The next morning Michelle worked out hard, bitched at one of the nurses about the AWOL Horatio Barnes, went back to her room and ripped the straw out of Cheryl’s mouth after the woman emitted six excruciatingly long slurps in a row.
Then she heard the running feet heading her way and knew the moment of truth had arrived. She grabbed Cheryl, who was protesting loudly, and threw her in the bathroom. “Don’t come out until you hear one body hit the floor,” she yelled in the woman’s face. This remark actually made Cheryl stop screeching for her straw.
Michelle slammed the bathroom door, turned and braced herself.
The door to her room was kicked open and there was Barry, holding a metal pipe.
“You bitch!” he screamed.
“You drug dealer!” she screamed back in mock fury and then laughed. “So let me guess, they busted your partner this morning and he ratted on you.”
“You bitch!” he roared again.
She motioned with her hands. “Come and get me, Barry, baby. You know you want to. And after you kick my ass you can have yourself a real good time with me.”
He sprang forward, the pipe held high for the killing blow.
He flew backward just as fast when her foot collided with his face. She didn’t wait for him to recover. Her fist crashed into his gut and then she whirled around and delivered a crushing kick to his jaw driving him backward and over Cheryl’s bed. He struggled up, stunned by the strength of her blows. He threw the pipe at her, missing her head by an inch as she ducked. Then he picked up a chair and hurled that too, but Michelle was too nimble. He bounded over the bed and lunged for her, and caught nothing except air and a massive side kick to his kidneys that seemed to drive all the fight out of him.
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