Michael McGarrity - Under the color of law

"I can't believe this is happening to me," Stewart said.

"It could've been a lot worse," Charlie replied, lifting Randall Stewart to his feet.

"I need the bathroom," Stewart said, feeling a wetness in his underwear.

"First make and sign a voluntary statement," Perry said, gesturing at a gray army-issue table against the wall. He looked down at the spreading stain at Stewart's crotch.

"Then you can tidy up before you go back to the office."

Two solid hours of discussion passed before Larry Otero left to spend the rest of the morning moving into his new office. Kerney turned his attention to the updated field notes on the murder investigations. Sal Molina had worked his people hard, but not much had been accomplished.

In spite of the dozens of field interviews no suspects had emerged in either killing. Terjo was still missing, Father Mitchell's briefcase hadn't been found, and the FBI had refused Molina's request to interview Ambassador Terrell, Proctor Straley, and his daughter Susan.

The corporate information about APT Performa that Helen had promised to get yesterday afternoon had finally arrived this morning He paged through the company's annual report and learned that the firm produced civilian computer security programs using technology originally developed at Sandia and Los Alamos National Laboratories for nuclear-disarmament monitoring. That could mean the company created firewall protection systems, cyber91 snooping programs, or some other rarefied software designed to safeguard network data.

How APT Performa figured into Ambassador Terrell's trade mission-if it did at all-remained an unanswered question. Maybe Trade Source Venture International, APT Performa's parent company, had flown Terrell back from South America on its corporate jet purely out of compassion for the ambassador's loss. Or because it was just good business sense to do a favor for a high-ranking government official. A reasonable person would figure it was some combination of the two and let it go at that. But how would that explain the two CIA types who got off the jet with Terrell at the airport and immediately cleaned out the crime scene?

Kerney set the material aside and paged through the graveyard shift commander's report. Before dawn, patrol officers had noticed unmarked FBI vehicles assigned to the task force stopping at various motels along the Cerrillos Road corridor.

The officers had queried their commander asking if a wanted-person sweep was under way. After checking with Lieutenant Molina the commander had ordered his officers not to provide any assistance.

Kerney called Sal Molina's extension, got him on the line, and asked for a briefing.

"I talked to Special Agent Perry about it, Chief," Molina said.

"He had his agents out looking for Terjo."

"Did you suggest to Perry that this is a joint operation?"

"Yeah, I did.

I asked him to team up the agents with the gang unit detectives who were working the south-side barrios. Perry didn't want to do it."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"There didn't seem any point, Chief. I read him out about it, and he told me he was shutting the search down. I asked to be alerted if any officers spotted his agents again, but apparently he meant what he said."

"Or he'd already found Terjo."

"Shit, I should have thought of that."

"Don't worry about it. If he has Terjo, we couldn't have taken action anyway."

"Can I say something, Chief?"

"Go ahead," Kerney said.

"As far as I'm concerned, you picked the right man to be your deputy."

"I'm glad you feel that way."

Kerney disconnected and Helen buzzed him on the intercom to announce that Special Agent Perry was waiting outside. Perry came in, glanced around the unadorned office, and gave Kerney a wiseass smile.

"Going for the spare, clean look, Kerney?" he asked.

"Or have you signed on as chief for the short tour? Maybe all that money you inherited has given you second thoughts about staying on the job for very long."

Perry swung a chair out from the conference table and sat. Kerney stayed put behind his desk.

"You had everybody on your team out last night looking for Terjo,"

Kerney said.

"Didn't I tell you about it? Sorry about that. It must have slipped my mind.

Anyway, your Lieutenant Molina didn't seem to want the help, so we gave it up."

"You didn't find Terjo?"

Perry shrugged.

"No. Anyway, Terjo isn't an issue anymore. We've closed the case."

"How did you manage to do that?"

"Scott Gatlin, Proctor Straley's ranch manager, wrote out a confession and committed suicide last night."

"Really?" Kerney said.

"What else do you have besides the confession of a dead man?"

"Letters that Terrell wrote Gatlin asking him to stop harassing her.

Letters Gatlin wrote to Terrell threatening to kill her if she didn't stop sleeping around. Witness reports that he'd come up to Santa Fe a number of times and stalked Terrell."

"So the jealous lover stalks and kills the object of his desire," Kerney said.

"Very interesting. Any physical proof?"

"We sent some of the semen stains and hair samples your people collected at the Terrell crime scene to our lab. They'll run a DNA comparison with samples from Gatlin. We should have preliminary results this afternoon.

I've asked for a quick turnaround."

"Whatever happened to the concerns about national security?"

"Apparently it isn't an issue, Kerney. But we'll continue to pursue that possibility for a while longer."

"Care to tell me how?" Kerney asked.

Perry stared at the four stars on Kerney's collars and tried not to smirk at the half-assed, over-the-hill investigator with a bum leg who'd cozied up to the local politicians and gotten himself appointed chief.

"You don't really need to know," he finally said.

"But I'll be in town with Agent Applewhite for a while longer. We'll touch base with you if we require any assistance."

"Where is Agent Applewhite?" Kerney asked.

"I haven't seen much of her."

"She's busy. Just give your people the news that they can close the Terrell case, and pass on my thanks for their cooperation."

"I'll sure do that." Kerney stood up and reached for his hat.

"Where's Gatlin's body?"

"In Ramah."

"Let's go see."

Perry laughed.

"Don't waste your time."

"It's no bother." Kerney put on his hat and stepped to the front of his desk.

"You can ride with me."

"There is nothing for you to do there," Perry said.

"Don't start playing games with me and going behind my back, like you did with the Catron County militia."

"Why don't you want me to see Gatlin's body, Charlie?"

"Wise up, Kerney, or you'll get burned, big time."

"Don't you think this is all too quick and easy?"

Perry stood up and leaned in close to Kerney.

"I don't like you, never have. But I'll say this once and you'd better listen: This time you could lose a lot more than that shitty little seasonal job you had with the Forest Service."

Kerney tossed his hat on the desk.

"It's been a pleasure working with you again, Charlie."

"Yeah, right," Perry said. He dropped a folded paper on the conference table.

"That's a copy of the official FBI statement to the press. I'm releasing it in an hour. Want to be there?"

"I'll pass," Kerney said.

"It's your party. Have a good time."

Sal Molina had gone back out in the field. Kerney got him on the radio and told him the Terrell case had been closed by the FBI. Molina wanted specifics.

"Not over the radio," Kerney said.

"We can hook up later. Go to Perry's press conference. It starts in an hour. That way you'll know what I know."

"Ten-four."

Kerney read over the graveyard report that noted the last motel the agents had been seen at during their early-mo ming search for Terjo on Cerrillos Road. He got in his car and started checking the remaining motels from that point on along the strip, looking for Terjo.