Andrew Peterson: Forced to Kill

Holly smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “I’ve got a spare bedroom. It’s no trouble at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

The all-night diner featured an aeronautical theme. Model airplanes of all shapes and eras hung from the ceiling. Wooden propellers and memorabilia adorned the walls. As always, Nathan was amazed at Harv’s ability to eat an inordinate amount of food.

Holly filled Nathan in on what she’d already told Harvey.

“Do you have an ID on the body?”

“Yes, his name is Arthur Kramer. His fingerprints were identified quickly. He was an American attache assigned to the U.S. embassy in Hungary.”

“Hungary?” Harv asked. “What kind of attache?”

“A commercial attache-basically, a person whose job it is to promote American businesses in foreign countries. Apparently, he was part of a joint task force involving the U.S. and the Hungarian government to pursue clean coal technology. He had ties with a consulting firm called Energy Solutions, Incorporated. The group’s focus was on a huge reserve of lignite discovered in an open pit mine near the Mantra power plant.”

“How big a reserve are we talking about?” Nathan asked.

“Half a billion short tons.”

“What does that number mean?”

“I’m not sure, but the case notes say that because of this mine, Hungary could become a major exporter of lignite to other Eastern Bloc countries.”

Harv asked, “What kind of money’s involved with something like this?”

“Hundreds of millions of euros, maybe billions,” Holly said. “I’m obviously no expert, so I did a little research before coming to meet you. Most experts believe clean coal technology won’t be commercially viable on a large scale until the year 2025. In a nutshell, it involves two processes. The first is chemically washing the coal to remove undesirable minerals and impurities, and the second is treating the emissions. Steam would be used to remove sulfur dioxide, but that still leaves the problem of capturing and storing enormous amounts of carbon dioxide gas in solid form. Essentially, dry ice. Many environmental experts believe it just trades one evil for another. They’re worried all the carbon dioxide will be released into the atmosphere someday.”

“So Montez tortures and kills a clean coal consultant?” Harv asked. “That sure doesn’t sound like his usual MO.”

“More shocking,” Nathan added, “is the fact that he’s working inside the United States. Think about it. The man’s a murder and torture machine. We could be looking at dozens more victims in the months ahead. Hundreds, maybe. It’s obvious he loves his work too much to stop. And how are we supposed to find him? He’s not the type to leave traces of his whereabouts behind. Or witnesses, for that matter.”

“Is there anything you can remember from your time with him,” Holly asked, “that might give us a starting point?”

“I’ve been racking my brain since you showed me the photograph. I can’t think of anything. He didn’t talk about himself much, and truth be told, I was a little distracted at the time.”

“A bit,” Harv added.

“Have you considered hypnosis?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure you want to drag that pond?” Harv asked.

“Let’s keep it as a fallback plan. I called Thorny. He cleared his calendar to come out here.”

“That doesn’t give us much shuteye before our flight back.”

“He also wants us invisible from now on.”

“Not an easy task.” Harv sighed and pushed back in his chair. “I’ve got a meeting with a Ford engineer tomorrow on our armored SUV line.”

“We don’t need to totally disappear, he just wants us under the radar for a spell.”

“I guess Lewey can take the meeting.” Harv said. “He’s up to speed.”

“Good, because we’re flying out to Utah.”

“So much for staying under the radar,” Harv said.

“You don’t have to go out there in person. I’m sure I can get you photos.”

“Holly, I appreciate the offer, but doesn’t it seem strange the body was dumped in Lake Powell? Wouldn’t it have been a whole lot easier just to bury it somewhere? And why Utah? I know Montez. He’s lazy. His henchmen do all the heavy lifting. I’d be willing to bet our security company that Arthur Kramer was interrogated at or near the lake.”

“Let’s not place that bet,” Harv said.

Nathan looked at Holly. “You could really help us by figuring out what Kramer’s work involved.”

“I’ve already got Henning looking into Kramer’s background in depth. I told him to keep everything he does confidential.”

“How’s Henning doing, by the way?” asked Nathan.

“He’s doing great. He thinks you guys are superheroes in disguise.”

Nathan smiled at that. It was a far cry from his first encounter with Special Agent Bruce Henning during the Bridgestone case.

“Seriously, though,” he said, “there’s got to be a reason Montez chose to dump a weighted body in a tourist-ridden lake. There’s a million safer places to dispose of a body out there. Also, I want to know if Kramer owns property in the area or was just on vacation. Was he staying in a motel or cabin? Or maybe a rented condo?”

“Good questions,” Holly said. “Our local resident office will be able to help. Kramer was dumped on federal property, so technically it’s a joint federal case.”

“Good. But whatever we do, it has to be low-key. Otherwise Montez could find out the feds are after him, and if he gets spooked, we’ll never find him.”

“I agree about being low-key,” Holly said, “but it may not be possible if the State Department gets involved. And it’s reasonable to assume it already is. Attaches assigned to U.S. embassies fall under the State Department’s jurisdiction. Whatever time we have, I’m afraid we’re looking at a very brief window.”

“Right,” said Nathan. “So all the more urgent we get to Utah as soon as possible.”

“Like today,” said Harv, looking at his watch. “Right after we meet with Thorny.”

Nichole Dalton backed her Escalade out of her garage and smiled. Another blue sky day in San Diego. The only flaw in the weather? A slight haze from a wildfire in San Bernardino County. One of many in a newer tract of single-family homes, hers secured in the desirable end of a cul-de-sac. She lived in an area of Del Mar where her daughters’ bicycles could be left in the front yard overnight, where you didn’t have to lock your front door for a short trip to the market. Or worry about finding graffiti on your fence in the morning. On the other hand, she lived with a huge mortgage associated with such amenities. Fortunately, her ex-husband made a generous, five-digit alimony payment every month and Nichole’s own Eastern Bloc language skills were in high demand, especially by her employer, the National Security Agency. With both incomes, she was doing well. The vast majority of Nichole’s work involved translating telephone conversations through encrypted data links in her soundproof home office. The only drawback was the constant intrusion of the NSA’s technical surveillance countermeasure specialists, one of whom kept hitting on her. She didn’t mind as long as it didn’t get too heavy. She could handle friendly flirting-she’d been dealing with it since age twelve.

On a whim, she decided to hit the huge women’s shoe sale at Nordstrom today. To promote the event, the store would open two hours early. The place was going to be a zoo, but shoes remained one of her weaknesses and she’d just have to brave the hordes. Nobody beat Nicky Dalton when it came to shoe shopping.

At thirty-nine, she possessed the energy of a high school cheerleader and the looks to match. After her divorce, she never had a lack of offers, but often declined when asked out. Marriage remained out of the question, at least for the time being. Before walking down the aisle again, she needed to know her man was firmly committed to her and her daughters first, his job second. Her first husband, a former Air Force officer, had been a walking job. Been there. Done that. No thanks .