Hothouse Orchid Page 12

  “Yes, I would say.”

  “I mean, anybody logging on from outside the building would have to go through at least three levels of security, with a different eighteen-digit password at each level.”

  “Then that person must be an employee, probably an operating agent.”

  “Inside the United States? I was told when I was recruited that the Agency is barred from conducting operations inside the U.S.”

  “That’s perfectly true, Ross, but there are reasons other than conducting operations that might cause an agent inside the country to employ the mainframe. Research, for instance. If you can figure out where the user is located, then I’ll know better if it’s one of our people.”

  “So what do you want me to do about this?” Ross asked.

  “You’ve already done the correct thing by bringing this to my attention.”

  “You want me to bring it to your attention if this happens again?”

  “Yes, please do that. On second thought, bring it to the attention of one of my deputies, Holly Barker. She’s on vacation now, but you can e-mail her through the system. She has an authorized terminal in her present location.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that,” Ross said. “Thanks very much.” He got up to go.

  “Thank you, Ross. Oh, to what use was this person putting the mainframe?”

  “Sorry, I forgot to mention that. It was sort of a background check on a retired army colonel named James Bruno. The user dredged up the record of a court-martial and also went into the Florida Department of Motor Vehicles computer and extracted the guy’s driver’s license application.”

  Something sounded familiar to Lance about all this. “Who was court-martialed?”

  “This Colonel Bruno.”

  “And what were the charges?”

  “Rape and attempted rape.”

  “Ahhh,” Lance said. “I think I know what this is about, Ross. I’ll deal with this; don’t bother any further with it.”

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Cabot. See ya.” He gave a little wave and left the office.

  Lance turned to his computer and sent an e-mail.

  Holly returned from her second day’s training, exhausted again. She had finally gotten a grip on the simulator and was flying it well, but she was still anxious to get into the real airplane. She went into the kitchen to get a beer and a small, green flashing light caught her eye. It was just outside the door of her Agency-provided office, and she hadn’t noticed it before.

  She tapped her entry code into the keypad and opened the door. A message was flashing on the monitor of the Agency computer: E-MAIL WAITING.

  She logged on and went to her in-box. “Call me. Lance,” the message read. She looked at her watch. He might still be in the office, so she dialed his direct number.

  “Lance Cabot,” he said.

  “It’s Holly. You rang, master?”

  “Yes. I had one of those teenaged geeks up here from computer services this afternoon to tell me about someone from outside the Agency accessing the mainframe.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that someone has been using the mainframe to investigate the background of a retired army colonel named Bruno. That rang a bell.”

  “I’m surprised you remember,” she said.

  “I remember everything, Holly; never forget that.”

  “I’ll try not to. What’s the problem?”

  “One of the things I remember was a conversation with you about your personal use of the mainframe.”

  “Yes, I remember that, too. When did this incident occur?”

  “Today, apparently.”

  “I haven’t been on the mainframe today.”

  “You aren’t still digging things up about Bruno?”

  “I think I already have everything I need to know about his past,” she said. “Right now, he’s a suspect in a series of rapes and murders in this town.”

  “Our geek says that someone accessed the mainframe from the Bahamas and then again from Birmingham, Alabama.”

  “I’ve never been to Birmingham, Alabama,” she said.

  “Actually, he says the user routed through a computer in Birmingham.”

  “Was he able to figure out where the original computer is? I mean, the one the user is actually using?”

  “No, not yet. Who, besides you, would be interested in the background of Colonel James Bruno?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest. I mean, the local and state cops have an interest in him, but I’ve already given them the material on Bruno that I found, and anyway, they wouldn’t have the codes necessary to access the mainframe.”

  “The user also accessed the Florida DMV computer and got Bruno’s driver’s license application.”

  “Well, this sounds like the cops, but if a Florida police agency can access the CIA mainframe, then I’d say we have a major computer security problem.”

  “It can’t be the cops down there,” Lance said. “That’s just too preposterous. It’s got to be one of our people doing this.”

  “I think I would agree with that. Certainly, it’s a much less troubling idea for an Agency employee to be using the mainframe for his or her own purposes.”

  “Less troubling but annoying,” Lance said. “If you think of anyone else in the Agency who would have an interest in Colonel Bruno, call me.”

  “Will do.”

  “Good night.” Lance hung up.

  Holly hung up, too, baffled.

  31

  Teddy Fay lay back and gazed into the face of Lauren Cade, which was contorted with passion. She moved rhythmically up and down on top of him, making little noises, and he moved with her. Then, they both climaxed together and ended up with her in his arms but still locked together.

  “That was just wonderful,” she said.

  “It certainly was,” he agreed.

  “How do you do that?” she asked.

  “It seems to me that you were doing the greater part of it.”

  “I suppose I was.”

  “And doing it extremely well, too.”

  She fell sideways and lay tight against him, her head on his shoulder and her leg over his, spilling his seed onto him. “Messy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I love it. I love your sweat, too.”

  “That’s entirely involuntary; it doesn’t require any talent.”

  “No, it’s just part of you.” She got up and went into the bathroom. He heard water running, and a moment later she came back with a hot face cloth and wiped down his body.

  “The service is very good around here,” Teddy said.

  “I’m going to keep it that way,” she replied. “What can I get you?”

  “A cold beer, please.”

  “Oh, me, too.” She trotted off toward the kitchen.

  “There are cold glasses in the freezer,” he called after her.

  She returned with two perfectly poured glasses, and he sat up and rearranged the pillows for both of them.

  “It’s fun watching you walk around naked,” Teddy said.

  “Then I’ll do that a lot.”

  They touched glasses and drank the cold lager.

  Teddy experienced a rush of feeling for her. He wanted her to never leave his house again, but he could not express this desire. “What are your career plans?” he asked.

  “I’ve got four years on the job,” she said, “so I guess I’ll put in at least twenty, for the pension-barring a better offer, of course.”

  “What would you consider a better offer?”

  “A job with a federal agency, I guess-FBI, DEA, like that.”

  “Then you’d have to move,” he pointed out.

  “Probably. I suppose they employ agents in Florida, though. I’d like to stay here. Mind you, my new job is something meaningful; it’s better than chasing down speeders on I-95.”

  “I suppose it is. You’re a bright woman; you need something that requires intelligence.”

  “I do.”
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  Teddy was trying to think about the future, but it was hard. What was he going to do? Ask her to marry him and run with him when the Agency stumbled across him somewhere? Could he confess to her the murders he’d done, necessary for the welfare of the country though they may have been. Could he ask her to share the risks in his life, to change her identity, to keep moving? He actually enjoyed the chase, but it seemed unlikely that she would. He tried to bring his mind back to the present.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Are you going to settle down in Vero Beach?”

  “Seems like a nice town,” he said. “So far. Certainly the company is good.”

  “How’d you pick Vero anyway?”

  “I read something about it somewhere. It’s a nice size-not too big, not too small-and I don’t mind a hot summer.”

  “I do,” she said, “but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  That was something he could offer her, he thought: a better climate somewhere else. “Where would you like to live, if you could live anywhere?”

  “Paris,” she said unhesitatingly.

  “That’s a nice thought,” Teddy said. “Do you have the language?”

  “Two courses in high school. I can order dinner.”

  “That’s about the extent of my French, too,” he admitted.

  “I think if I lived in Paris the language would come to me quickly enough.”

  Teddy changed the subject. “When you nail this Bruno character, what will your next job be?”

  “The next big crime, I guess.”

  “Wherever it is?”

  “Wherever in Florida.”

  So she might get yanked away from him. He didn’t like that.

  “Our charter from the government is to investigate ‘major’ crimes, but Hurd Wallace has a lot of discretion over what cases he works. Of course, the governor could call at any time and send him off to Miami or Jacksonville or someplace to solve some murder that had statewide or national implications.”

  “Are you having Bruno followed?”

  “No, not yet, anyway. But I’ve told Jimmy Weathers-you met him-that Bruno is a suspect, so I expect he’ll be paying a lot of attention to him until we break the case.”

  “Does he spend most of his time in the office?”

  “Jimmy says he works odd hours. Sometimes he’s at the station in the middle of the night. It’s like he’s always checking up on the people who work for him.”

  “I’m no cop,” Teddy said, “but I should think that if he’s your suspect, you’d follow him night and day, until he made an incriminating move.”

  “To do that, Hurd would have to request more manpower from the state police, and then it starts to get political. If he meets with resistance, he has to get the governor involved. I think Hurd is reluctant to do that, or we’d already be following Bruno.”

  “He’ll make a mistake eventually,” Teddy said.

  “Let’s hope so,” Lauren replied.

  Teddy was thinking he wouldn’t wait for Bruno to make a mistake.

  32

  Jimmy Weathers worked until after midnight, then, as he was locking his desk, he saw a light go on down the hallway. Bruno was in his office.

  He walked down the hall toward the rear door to the parking lot and stopped at Bruno’s door. “Evening, Chief.”

  “Good evening, Jimmy,” Bruno said.

  “Did you just get here?”

  “Yes,” Bruno replied. “You, too?”

  “No, I’m just leaving. You going to be late?”

  “Probably an all-nighter,” Bruno replied. “I’m working on personnel files, and, by the way, I’m giving you a good performance rating.”

  “Thank you, Chief. Good night, now.”

  “Good night,” Bruno said

  Jimmy walked out to the parking lot, and, as he was about to get into his car, he noticed that Bruno’s unmarked cruiser, parked next to him under a streetlamp, had the keys in it. If Bruno kept doing that, Jimmy mused, he was going to end up with a stolen police car.

  The next morning Lauren Cade was fifteen minutes late for work, having spent longer in bed with Jack Smithson than she’d meant to. Hurd Wallace called to her as she passed his door.

  “Lauren?”

  “Yes, Hurd. Sorry I’m late.”

  “You’re just in time. The Vero department called two minutes ago. They’ve had a call about a dead woman in a car, and they’re en route now.”

  “Is it another one, do you think?”

  “I think,” Hurd said. “Do you know the fairgrounds west of town?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s where they found her. You ready to go?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll take your car,” he said, grabbing his jacket.

  The fairgrounds were located on a grid of roads just west of Vero Beach, a place that Lauren passed when she was driving from her house to the Indian River Mall. There was a police car blocking the entrance, but Lauren identified herself and was allowed in.

  She drove into the grounds, and it was immediately obvious where the crime scene was. Two Vero cars and a van were in the middle of the large, grassy field that served as a parking lot when there was an event at the grounds. She cut across the field toward them.

  She stopped, and she and Hurd got out of their car and identified themselves to the detective in charge.

  “I’m Ed Rankin,” the detective said. “I’ve heard about you folks. You going to take this one away from us?”

  “We don’t want to do that,” Hurd replied. “We just want to help.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t help like the FBI helps,” Rankin replied. The Bureau had a reputation among cops for letting them do the work, then taking the credit.

  “Nothing like that,” Hurd said. “This is probably one more in a series we’ve had. You know about that.”

  “Sure, I do, and I think you’re right,” Rankin said.

  The medical examiner’s truck pulled up next to them, and the ME got out. “What we got here?” he asked.

  “Let’s look together,” Hurd said, leading the way around the victim’s car.

  The driver’s door was open, and a naked woman was on her knees in the driver’s seat, her head toward the passenger door. There was blood on her buttocks and thighs and on the back of her head.

  Lauren winced when she saw the position, and she was immediately struck by the difference between what she and Jack had been doing an hour ago and what this woman had experienced.

  The ME conducted his on-site examination, then stood back.

  “Tell me what you think,” Hurd said.

  “I think she was forced to strip and kneel on the driver’s seat, then was raped vaginally and anally from behind, then shot once in the back of the head, probably with a twenty-two pistol, eight to ten hours ago.”

  “I concur,” Hurd said, looking at Lauren.

  “So do I,” she said.

  “Can I take the body?” the ME asked.

  Hurd turned to Rankin. “Ed?”

  “Sure. We can look at the interior of the car better with her gone.”

  The ME and his assistant removed the body from the car, loaded it on a gurney and put it into his truck. Shortly, they were gone.

  “We got a handbag,” Rankin said, holding it up by a strap. It was on the seat under the body. He walked to the front of the car and emptied the bag onto the hood. “We got a wallet,” he said, opening it, “and a driver’s license.” Rankin took the license from the wallet and peered at it. “Oh, shit,” he said.

  “What?” Lauren asked.

  “I know her. Jeanine Clark. She sells tickets at the mall movie theater. My oldest boy went to high school with her. The family lived a couple of blocks from us.”

  “How late would she work at the movie theater?” Hurd asked.

  “I think they have shows as late as midnight,” Rankin replied. “I’ll check out there and see what time she left last night; that’ll probably give us a t
ime of death, and I’ll bet it agrees with the ME’s estimate.”

  Lauren stepped away from the car and made a phone call.

  “Detective Weathers,” Jimmy said.

  “It’s Lauren. We’ve got another one.”

  “Where?”

  “In the Vero jurisdiction, out at the fairgrounds.”

  “He’s moving around, then.”

  “Yes. I want to know where Bruno was last night. Can you find out without alerting him that he’s a suspect?”

  “I already know,” Jimmy said. “I left here a little after midnight, and he had just arrived, said he was going to be working all night on personnel files. He’s gone, now; probably at home asleep.”

  “That’s interesting,” Lauren said. “Was anybody else in the station last night?”

  “Just the switchboard operator; everybody else would have been on patrol until the shift change, at eight a.m.”

  “Would the operator have seen Bruno there?”

  “Probably not; she’s in her own space, with the door closed. She has to stay by the switchboard in case of a nine-one-one call, and she has her own john back there.”

  “What does Bruno drive?”

  “An unmarked Crown Vic cruiser, dark blue. I noticed when I left last night that the keys were in it. I suppose you could make a case that somebody took the car and returned it later, but that’s kind of far-fetched, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You need me out there?”

  “No, I’ll ask the DIC, Ed Rankin, to fax you a copy of his report. The ME just left; you can get his report later today, probably. I’ll talk to you later, Jimmy.” Lauren closed her phone and noticed that Hurd Wallace was standing a few yards away, looking down. She walked over to him. “Got something?”

  “Maybe we got lucky,” Hurd said, pointing down. “There was some rain last evening, and there’s a bare spot in the grass right here. Look at that tire print.”

  Lauren looked down. “Nice and clear,” she said, “and it looks like there’s a cut in the tire.” She moved along a few feet. “Here it is again, from when the tire turned. It’s a right tire.”

  “Let’s get a cast of that track,” Hurd said.