Michael Palmer - Fatal

"It shouldn't take too long just to file a report."

"We're talking government agency here. 'Shouldn't take too long' is not a well-understood concept in that world."

"Hold down the fort."

Matt watched as she strode away, took a tentative step to follow, then turned, climbed back on the bike, and rode to the next block. There were two messages on his answering machine. One was from Mae, reminding him of a three o'clock appointment with his dental hygienist, and assuring him that his patients for the day had been moved to other slots.

"I certainly hope you are all right," she added, the concern in her voice unmistakable.

The second message, recorded yesterday evening, was from Hal.

"Everything's set, Matthew. Fred Carabetta will see us at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon at his office in D.C. Call me for details."

Hal answered on the first ring.

"Hey, Matt. Are you okay?"

"No."

Quickly, Matt reviewed the events of the previous night.

"God, that's just awful," Hal said. "And where are you calling from?"

"Newark. Nikki's in with the FBI right now, filing a report."

"Well, I think you've got to get her out of there," Hal said. "I was just going to leave another message on your machine. Grimes has an APB out for your arrest — both of you."

"I was afraid he might do something like that. What's he charging us with?"

"Murder."

"What?"

"Grimes called me early this morning, then came by and drove me out to view a body and bring it back to the morgue. Big man, what's left of him."

"I think I know who he is," Matt said, feeling the acid in his stomach beginning to percolate. "Name's Larry. He worked for Grimes."

"Extra crispy. From what I could tell he was shot in the head in a cabin off Tall Pines Road, then incinerated when it was burned to the ground. Quite well done, the man was. Then, while we're driving back to town, Grimes casually tells me that you and Dr. Solari are wanted for the guy's murder. Wants to know if I might happen to know where you are."

"How does he get off making me a suspect?"

"There are hospital medications and supplies in the woods near the cabin with fingerprints on them, and motorcycle tracks all around. Grimes is speculating that the big man was working for you when he kidnapped Dr. Solari and that you killed him to keep him quiet or from squeezing you for more money."

"Slick. He's setting both Nikki and me up to die, Hal. Maybe a murder-suicide by this deranged doctor who became obsessed with his patient to the point where he had her kidnapped. All Grimes has to do now is get his hands on us. Hal, I've got to get to Nikki before she speaks with the FBI people. I'll call you later."

"We're expected at Carabetta's office at three this afternoon. Constitution Avenue."

"We'll be there," Matt said.

He sped around the block and dismounted the Harley across the street from the office building.

"FBI, please."

"Twenty-second floor," the uniformed security man at the lobby reception desk responded, glancing up from his magazine only long enough to ensure that the questioner wasn't encased in dynamite and brandishing an assault rifle.

The six elevators were all between floors ten and fifteen of the twenty-four stories. Their descent was so painfully slow that Matt actually gave passing thought to sprinting up the twenty-two flights. He was the only one in sight as he stepped into the car, but predictably, three others — a man and two women — materialized just as the doors were about to close, and pressed buttons for floors five, nine, and seventeen. Matt tapped his toe and drummed his fingers over the upward journey, which seemed to take an hour. The elevator opened directly into the waiting room.

Thank God!

Nikki was there, seated opposite a receptionist, thumbing through a copy of People. A wizened Asian woman occupied one of the other chairs. Just as Matt stepped off the elevator, a darkly handsome young man with a Hollywood chin emerged from one of the offices, crossed to Nikki, and introduced himself as Duty Officer Sherman. Nikki, clearly startled by Matt's sudden appearance, didn't respond immediately to the agent. The hesitation was all Matt needed. He moved quickly to her side, slipping his hand around her arm, and applying as much force as he dared. Nikki looked momentarily shocked, but then came through and handled the assault coolly, her expression saying, This had better he good.

"I'm sorry to bust in like this, Officer," Matt said, "but we're going to have to come back a little later. There's been a death in the family."

"Now, you jes listen here, Sara Jane Tinsley. You gotta stop actin' up an' let me get some damn work done. There ain't no one followin' you an' there ain't no one tryin' to hurt you. Now go on out an' find somethin' to do or someone to play with. If'n you can't occupy yerself, then jes get out back an' start pickin' corn." "Corn ain't ready, Ma, an' you know it," Sara Jane snapped.

"It's plenty ready."

"Besides, you jes want me out there so those men can have me. You hate me. You hate how ugly I done become. You think it's my fault. You think I'm staying up all night jes to git under yer skin. You don't understand that I cain't sleep. No matter how hard I try, I cain't sleep."

She was twelve, tall and willowy, but yet to show any outward signs of becoming a woman. Right now, she thought, she really didn't care if she became a woman er not. She cared about the men who had tried to git her into their car as she 'uz walking down the road. First they called her by name an' offered her a big stuffed panda to come with them. Then one of them — the thin one with the cowboy hat — got out of the car with a fist fulla money an' held it out for her. At the sight of him, Sara Jane had whirled and taken off through the woods. The man came after her, but there was no way in hell he 'uz gonna catch her. Those were her woods. No one caught her out there less'n she wanted 'em to.

"You're making a big mistake," the man had called after her as he gave up chasin'.

Sara Jane reported the incident to her ma, but it 'uz clear she didn't believe her. All she said was that Sara Jane wouldn't be get-tin' in such trouble if she'd jes stop runnin' off ever' chance she got an' stayed closer to home. Seven kids an' Sara Jane was the only one actin' out the way she was. Stayin' up all night. Makin' up stories. Havin' tantrums. Screamin' at her ma. Gettin' into fights with her brothers and sisters. Racin' off into the woods.

It were the bumps on her face that were poisoning her an' makin' her do bad things, Sara Jane had tried to explain. The bumps. The doctor in Ridgefield disagreed. He said she 'uz jes becoming a woman an' doin' it harder 'n most. The lumps'd go away as soon as her monthlies started. Maybe so. But this mornin' she had found another one, this one jes above her eye — nearly as wide as a dime an' hard as a knuckle. It was the sixth one, plus two right on the top of her head. Them monthlies had better come soon or there wouldn't be nothin' left of her face.

It was clear that her ma had said all she was of a mind to say on the topic of Sara Jane Tinsley. Well, to hell with her. If she wanted the corn picked so damn bad, her fav'rite daughter would pick it.

Sara Jane stormed from the house, slamming the torn screen door behind her, and grabbed one of the plastic baskets. Takin' in laundry an' ironin' was her ma's main source of money, but the corn, half an acre of it, helped. Only this year had been dry, real dry, an' many of the ears was runted. Well, she wanted 'em, she was gonna get 'em, runted or not.

Furious, Sara Jane marched to the end of the farthest row and began tearing off all the ears she could find and throwing them into the bucket. The bending and shaking stalks made a sound like a thresher was going through them. The noise and her own wild movements kept her from hearing the man stealthily approaching her from behind, or sensing his presence until it was too late. Simultaneously, one of his strong, bony hands pinned her to him across her chest, while the second one clamped a cloth over her mouth and nose — a cloth soaked with something that smelled sickly sweet. Sara Jane tried to fight and bite, but he pulled her down to the ground and smothered her with his hand and his body. She knew it was the man with the cowboy hat, but there was nothing she could do. Quickly, her struggles lessened.