Lou's revelation

The sleek black cat stalked his sure-footed way across the back of the leather couch. His gaze was focused on the human who had taken up his favorite corner of said sofa, who had, in fact, claimed it all. The human with the interesting scent that had appeared out of nowhere and invaded his (yes, it was his, despite what the she-cats had to say) territory. He stood about a foot from the end of the leather ridge, staring down at the unmoving form, his gleaming yellow eyes giving the intruder his best "you are my prey!" glare. He gathered himself to spring down upon the stranger when suddenly, he was swept off his perch and into the air by a strong and practiced hand. He protested, loudly. If his thinking processes involved words, he might have thought, "Curses! Foiled again!"

"Oh, no, you don't, you insufferable blot," Lou muttered as she grabbed Midnight off the back of the sofa, one hand sliding under his chest to sweep him up and the other coming in to capture the hind legs and safely support them. "You are going to leave Jeff alone and let him sleep."

Upon their return to her house, Lou told Jeff to make himself at home while she put away the cannoli and her leftovers box, and fed her cats. She returned to the living room to find Jeff stretched out on the couch, shoes on the floor, thumbing through the Asheville Citizen-Times. He lowered his reading glasses to look up at her.

"You did tell me to make myself comfortable," he said mildly.

"I'm glad to see you took me literally," she riposted with a grin. "Do you mind if I check my cyber traffic?"

He waved a hand expansively and smiled at her. "Not at all." He rattled the paper. "Nice to see a real newspaper for a change."

She snorted a chuckle, then booted up her computer and began to check her emails. In the background, she heard him rustle the paper, flipping and folding it to make it easier to read, occasionally chuckling as he read the comics section. Twenty minutes later, after she had sent off an email to an old friend back in Wisconsin, she heard a soft snore and looked out to find Jeff asleep on the couch, one arm across his chest, the other dangling off the side, the newspaper crumpled on the floor below his limp fingers. She smiled, and got up to cover him with an afghan, slipping his reading glasses off and putting them on the end table by his head. Then she went back to her computer until the rustle of the sofa's loose leather back alerted her to Midnight's planned assault.

She took the cat down the hall and through the kitchen, opening the door to the enclosed back porch, then dropping the cat onto the wooden floor. The back porch was the cats' area, there were places to climb on and a large scratching post. A wooden shelf ran the length of the wall just under the wide windows, a perfect place for cats to safely view the world outside. Two litter boxes were kept out there and the door had a cat-sized hole in it, a piece of lightweight metal hanging from a spring hinge within the hole. The cats could push their way into and out of their play area easily, unless Lou used the magnetic hook to fasten the entry closed, as she did now. Midnight immediately tried to leave the porch, and on finding his exit blocked, began to complain in his loud meow.

"Sorry, boy, but I'm not listening to your complaints. You're staying out there until Jeff wakes up," Lou said as she went back into the kitchen. As she crossed the room, her vidphone extension rang. She hurried to answer it so Jeff wouldn't be disturbed by the one in the living room.

"Hello?" she said as she peered at the screen. A handsome blond looked back at her with a bit of confusion. "John! This is a pleasant surprise!" she said with a smile.

"Uh, hi, Aunt Lucinda," John Tracy replied, smiling nervously. "I didn't know for a minute if I'd gotten the right number since I didn't get to see you when you were here, and... I didn't exactly remember what you looked like."

Lou laughed. "Of course you didn't. You were only, what... five or six... when Greg and I left? If Scott, who was ten or so when we moved, couldn't remember, how were you supposed to?" She settled down in her kitchen chair. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Well, Scott wanted to know if Dad got there safely. He usually checks in with us when he arrives at his destination so we know that he's okay and didn't get hijacked or something on the way. Brains said he'd gotten to Atlanta okay, and Dad did call from the Asheville jetport, but we hadn't heard from him since so..."

"Put your mind at ease, John. He's here, taking a nap on my living room sofa. He took me out to lunch at my favorite Italian place and I think he's digesting the meal in the tried and true fashion of all Sunday diners. Would you like to talk to him?"

John shook his head. "No, Aunt Lucinda, not if he's asleep. Lord knows he could use the rest."

"Okay. I'll leave him be. So, how are you doing? Did things go well during your jaunt into the corporate sector? When will I see your next book?" Lou asked. "What time of day is it over there, anyway?"

"It's late on Monday morning, Aunt Lucinda. I'm fine, my corporate trip was profitable, and I'm revising my first book and putting new pictures and notes in it to bring it up-to-date," John said, relaxing for the first time. "My publishers have been clamoring for it and I've got to put in some serious work over the next few weeks."

"I really enjoyed your book on the Tracy Quasar-hell, I've enjoyed everything you've written!" she said with a grin. "And not because you're an honorary nephew either! You've got a really clear writing style, and you make your subject come alive. I was just fascinated with the way you presented your facts. What was it like, discovering that?"

"Oh, it was amazing! I ate, drank, and breathed the quasar for several weeks," John said eagerly. "In fact, I was out of touch for a while, and Dad got worried. He came to visit and I was able to show it to him."

"I bet he was as excited as you were," Lou commented. "So, where were you when you found this? What observatory?"

"Oh, I was up in the International Space Station at the time," John lied. He hated the lie, but he and Jeff knew that people would ask the question from time to time and they had to say something, so this is what they had agreed on. And John had spent some time there as part of his NASA duties.

"No wonder why you could see it so clearly!" Lou remarked. "You were outside of Earth's atmosphere. Really, it was a remarkable achievement for someone as young as you were."

"Yeah, I know," he replied in a modest tone. He leaned in closer. "Aunt Lou, if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone else? I mean, I realize that I haven't gotten a chance to know you very well, but I'm busting to tell this to someone, and since you liked my books so much..."

"Now, John," Lou chided. "What is it that you can tell me but not your father? Or your brothers? Or your grandmother, for that matter. You're not in any trouble, are you?"

John waved a hand across his face and shook his head. "No, no, no, nothing like that. It's just that, if I tell my brothers, they'll probably tease me. Well, at least Alan and Gordon will. And if I tell Father or Grandma, they'll be asking about it all the time, and if I fail, or decide not to pursue this, I don't want to disappoint them."

"Okay, John. You can tell me. I won't tell anyone... unless it's illegal," Lou said sincerely. "I feel like if it's illegal, I should stop it somehow. Old habits, you know."

John chuckled. "Agreed." He leaned closer again. "I'm trying to write a novel. A science fiction novel."

Lou's eyes lit up. "Really? How wonderful! You can do it, John. I know you can. You've got all the tools: a good writing style, a wealth of knowledge about astronomy and aeronautics... hey, I don't think you can miss!" She shook a finger at his image in the vidphone screen. "I want an autographed first edition! I want to be able to tell my friends that I knew this best-selling author way back when!"

John laughed. "I'll see you get one, if I ever get it done and published. It's harder to write a story than regurgitate facts; no matter how well you dress them up, they're still facts. This creating a world of my own and putting it in words so that the reader can see what I see in my head is tough stuff!"

"I bet it is," Lou said. "And I wish you luck at it. Are you going to use your real name? Or a pen name?"

"Haven't decided yet. I'm torn between playing on my 'worldwide recognition' as a published author, and the desire to keep my two writing worlds separate." He smiled wryly. "I still have time to think about it. I've barely gotten an outline done. First things first, though. I need to finish my revision."

"Sounds like a plan." Lou replied. She looked over at her clock. "I'd better go. Tell Scott that your Dad is here and safe and I'm enjoying his company. Say 'hello' to everyone for me, okay? Everyone except maybe your grandmother. Your father intimated that she didn't know where he was and he didn't want her to know."

"So I've been warned by Scott," John said, rolling his eyes. "I'll have to ask her what the problem is."

"If you get an answer, tell me," Lou replied with a rueful smile. "I'd like to know, too."

"Okay, Aunt Lou. Can I call you that? It's so much less formal..."

"Sure. Go ahead. Listen, I've really got to go. It's been great chatting with you, John. I'll let your dad know that you called, okay?"

"Okay, Aunt Lou. Talk to you some other time. Bye!"

"Goodbye, John." And with that, the call was disconnected.

Lou got up from her seat and walked quietly down the hall. Peering into the living room, she made sure that Jeff was still asleep. He was; in fact, he had turned over onto his side and pulled the afghan up to the top of his shoulder. Lou smiled, then went quietly back down the hall. Opening the door to the basement, she padded downstairs, the leather moccasins she used as slippers making barely audible scuffling sounds on the steps. Slipping through the dark storage room and past the punching bag and weight bench, she entered the workshop. Only then and there did she turn on the light.

She pressed the hidden button on the music player as she checked the disk that was inside, then pressed "play". The music started as the red light came up and she reached up and over the player for a hammer, toggling the switch in back as she came back down with the tool. She waited for a long moment, looking all over her work bench for something until the tiny light came up green. Then she let out a relieved breath, put the hammer on the pitted work surface, and reached for the hidden glassy spot. The once invisible door slid open silently, and Lou hurried into the room. Immediately, she started the computer inside.

"It's about time, Tony," she muttered, manipulating the mouse and keyboard to the place she wanted to go. A complex password put her into a secure website, and there was a number "1" in the email inbox. She accessed it, and downloaded the contents to a restricted section of her computer's hard drive. She logged off the website and got offline, breaking the wireless satellite connection that her hidden computer had with the outside world. She stared at the file for a moment, then took a deep breath and opened it. Scrolling through, she smiled.

"It's beautiful, Tony. Just beautiful," Lou whispered to herself. "Simple and deadly. And with none of your customary bells and whistles, which will keep you from coming under suspicion. Now, all I have to do is put in the parameters and load it up. Where's the tutorial you promised? Ah. Right there. Gotta make this as fast as I can, before my guest upstairs wakes up."

Jeff woke up, disoriented. He squinted and rubbed his eyes, gazing around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he remembered. I'm at Lou's place. Boy, I must have really needed that nap! Wonder what time it is?

Pushing back the afghan, How did this get here? he swung his legs off the couch and sat up. Looking for his shoes, he came eye to eye with Lou's fluffy gray and peach cat, who rubbed up against his ankle. "What did your mistress call you again? I know it was cutesy and odd. Muffins? That doesn't sound quite right. Hmm. I'll have to ask Lou again." He reached out a hand to stroke the thick, fluffy fur-and came away with a small handful of it. "Ugh! You're shedding!" He shook his hand automatically, letting the fur drop to the decorative rug, then, feeling guilty about leaving the clump there, he picked it up and tossed it in the wastebasket behind Lou's desk. Coming back to the couch, he started to put on his shoes, his efforts hampered by the cat, who found his wrists to be just as fascinating as she had found his trouser legs. Finally, he succeeded in getting himself shod, and went off in search of his absent hostess. There was some soft music coming from down the hall, and he followed it.

He found her in the kitchen, ready to reheat her spinach lasagne. She turned as he entered, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said with a smile. "You were really out for a while there."

"Yes, I was. I didn't realize how tired I must have been. What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock... my supper time. I fed the cats earlier and I am going to eat my leftovers from Vincenzo's. Can I get you a sandwich or scramble you some eggs? I'm afraid that Sunday night dinners are usually rather light around here."

"A sandwich sounds great, if it's not too much trouble," Jeff said.

"Not at all. What would you like? I have ham, roast beef, Swiss cheese, American cheese, pickles, mayo... what?" Lou asked, delving into the cryofridge to pull out her cooking supplies.

"Roast beef and Swiss sounds great," Jeff told her. "I can make it myself, you know."

She turned to look at him and grin. "Okay. Roast beef and Swiss cheese. There are some soft deli rolls and you can choose your own condiments."

Jeff grinned back. "Sounds like a plan. Cannoli for dessert, huh?"

"Ooh, yeah!" Lou's eyes twinkled. "I also have a plan for the rest of the evening."

"What is it? Something I should be concerned about?" Jeff asked, not looking at Lou so she couldn't see his amused expression. He spread some mayonnaise on one half of his deli roll, then positioned three or four kosher dill slices on the other half. Reaching into the container for the roast beef, he began to pile it on, then added a slice of Swiss cheese for good measure.

"Just wine, cheese, popcorn, and a good movie, that's all," Lou said as she moved toward the table with her lasagne and a glass of ice water.

"What movie did you want to watch?" Jeff asked as he cut the sandwich into two sections. He popped a pickle into his mouth and brought his meal to the table.

"Guest's choice," Lou said. "I'm willing to sit through whatever you select." She jumped up and got him a glass of ice water to wash down his thick entrée, then sat back down across from him.

He chewed and swallowed, then said, "Thanks." He drank deeply, then pointed at her. "You're a brave woman, Lou, letting me choose the movie. As I recall, your tastes in film were very different from mine. I like the action, shoot-em-up, explosions everywhere stuff and you preferred the old, nostalgic films."

"Yes, and Lucy liked the relationship chick flicks, and Greg preferred the horror and suspense genre," Lou said in agreement. "That's why we never went to movies as a group. We could never decide on what to watch."

Jeff chuckled. "Maybe that's why Greg and I never hit it off. Our tastes and interests were too diverse."

"Probably," Lou responded before taking another bite of her lasagne.

They ate in silence for a while, then Jeff asked, "Lou, why did you retire from Interpol? When you told me you'd done that, I was shocked. I never thought you'd leave there... unless they carried you out on a stretcher."

She waved a fork at him while she swallowed her mouthful. A sip of water, then, "I'll tell you why I retired, if you tell me how you know Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. That was some big, impressive portrait of her in your living room-office, or whatever you want to call it."

Jeff blinked. "You know Lady Penelope?" he asked, incredulous.

"Well, let's say that I'm acquainted with her-on a professional basis," Lou answered. She cocked her head at him. "You do know she was a spook before deciding that the life of the pampered rich was more rewarding."

"Uh, yes, I did know that," Jeff stammered, his face turning pink. "She's... a friend. I met her three or four years ago through Sir Jeremy Hodge. We originally had some similar charitable interests and kept running into each other at functions for those charities. Eventually, she became a family friend."

Lou looked like she wanted to ask, "How good a friend?" but she refrained, and Jeff changed the subject. "Well, know you know how I know Lady Penelope. It's your turn. Tell me why you retired."

She shook her head and chuckled ruefully. "Oh, they were going to promote me, make me a supervisor."

"You retired to keep from getting promoted?" Jeff asked. "Excuse me for saying so, but that sounds a bit loco, Lou."

"Well, you said it yourself, Jeff. I'm an active person. Lord knows that I pushed enough paper around in my job as it was. Reading bank statements, scanning phone logs, digging through emails... all desk work that I loathed but knew was part of my job description under the 'research' part of 'research and surveillance'. But at least I managed to get out of the office and travel from time to time under the 'surveillance' part. Supervisors push papers and don't get to travel. I figured it was time to get out while I still liked the job. So, I took early retirement."

"Will you be okay? I mean, financially?" Jeff wanted to know.

"Oh, sure. I made some good investments, put aside money for the future, plus I have a retirement fund from work," she said confidently. "And there's no rule says I can't go into business for myself. How does 'Lou Myles, Private Investigator' sound?"

Jeff laughed. "You'd have more clients than you could shake a stick at, Lou. But do you really want to be following horny old men around, gathering evidence of their affairs for their wives? Or vice versa?"

Lou made a face. "No! Oh, Jeff, you would have to point out the big flaw in my plans, wouldn't you?" Having finished her lasagne, she got up. "Are you done?"

Jeff wiped his mouth on a napkin and nodded. She took his plate and hers and put them both in the autowasher. Then she pulled out the box with the cannoli in it and placed it on the table, taking out small dessert plates and putting one of the sweet treats on each dish and handing Jeff a fork.

"I've got wine just about ready to go, and cheese and crackers to go with it. Popcorn is never a problem," she said as she sat down, handing him a cannoli.

He shook his head. "You are determined to stuff me to the gills, woman."

"You have gills?" she quipped, peering at his neck on either side of his face as he shook his head again and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. She turned her attention to her dessert, crunching her fork through the cannoli's light crust and sliding the tines under the morsel. Bringing it to her mouth, she ate the bite, uttering an appreciative "Mmmmm!" She glanced over at Jeff to see his reaction.

"Very nice!" Jeff commented as he took a bite. His eyes met hers. "Your friend sure knows how to make a good cheese filling. Even if it is chocolate."

They finished their desserts, then Lou brought out the bottle of red wine she had put aside to let it breathe. She took out two goblets and handed them to Jeff, then brought out a small tray of cheese chunks and a sleeve of buttery crackers. "Here, you take these down to the living room and I'll pop some popcorn while you choose a movie. The disks are in the cabinet under the televid."

"Right." He did as she bade, and brought the snacks down to the living room, placing the cheese and crackers on the wide leather ottoman and the goblets on the end table where he found his reading glasses. The gray cat immediately homed in on the cheese. "Scat!" he said, trying to push her off. She looked up at him with unreadable eyes and growled. Concerned, he picked up the tray again and held it until Lou came along with a big bowl of popcorn and the bottle of wine.

"Uh, she's growling at me," Jeff informed Lou. "She seemed to want some cheese. I just picked it up to keep it from her."

"Tch!" Lou made a frustrated noise. "Moofums, you are a pest and a piglet." She swooped down and scooped up the cat. "Good thing you backed off when she growled. She would have scratched you if you hadn't. Of all of my cats, she's got the worst temper." With that, Lou walked off with the cat in her arms.

By the time she returned, Jeff was settled comfortably on the sofa, sipping some of the wine he'd poured, the televid set up and ready to go. "I put all the cats out on the porch. They'll be fine while we watch the film," she said as she sat down next to him. He handed over a goblet. "Thanks. By the way, John called earlier. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"That's fine. I'll call him or Scott later, when I'm sure my mother's gone to bed," Jeff said. He lifted the remote. "Are you ready?"

She wriggled into a comfortable position, pulled the bowl of popcorn into her lap, and said, "Let 'er rip."

The televid started up and after the film studio's logo and distinctive accompaniment slid by, the strains of the opening credits music were heard. Lou sat up, surprised. "Casablanca? You rogue!"

"I thought you might appreciate it," Jeff said with a grin.

"I most certainly do," she replied, and then the only sound that could be heard for a while was the crunching of the popcorn and an occasional whisper for more wine.

When the movie finished, and Humphrey Bogart told Claude Rains, "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship" before moving off into the rainy night, Lou clapped and Jeff laughed at her. He stretched, and Lou got up to deal with the disk.

"Do you realize how long it's been since I did something like this? Just relaxing with a good friend?" Jeff asked her as the movie finished.

"Too long, I'd guess," Lou replied as she shut down the machine. She risked a glance at Jeff. His hair was mussed, but some of the lines of care had been smoothed away and he looked relaxed, even younger. He caught her looking and winked at her, grinning as she blushed at being caught.

"Y'know, even when I was living in Kansas or New York, I didn't do this after Lucille died," Jeff said. "I was too busy scrambling to finish raising the boys and keep the business afloat. Most of my 'friends' dropped away, replaced with 'business acquaintances', men who I'd play golf or tennis with while talking business afterwards. And even those have disappeared since we... moved."

"I'm not surprised," Lou said, picking up her wine glass and sitting back down next to him. "It's usually the woman in a relationship that keeps the friendships going. Men, on the whole, don't call their friends up 'just to chat' like a woman would." She turned to him. "I was surprised to keep getting Christmas cards year after year. Women are usually the ones who take on that responsibility, too."

"Well... to tell the truth...," Jeff hemmed and hawed. "My secretary takes care of the Christmas card list. I sign the cards, maybe add a line, then she addresses them and mails them out. She's also in charge of purging the list yearly. So as long as I've gotten cards from you, you've gotten cards from me." He sighed.

"Ah! Now I understand," Lou replied. They sat quietly together for a few moments. Lou looked at him again, her face taking on an expression of worry. Damn. I hate to do this to him now, when he's all relaxed and comfortable. But I can't put it off any longer.

What she asked was, "Want some coffee? I know it's late..."

"No, no coffee, thanks. I like how I feel right now," he replied with a smile, getting up and stretching.

"Okay. No coffee, then. But there is something I'd like to show you. Down in my workshop."

"You have a workshop?" Jeff asked, intrigued. "I suppose you'd have to, wouldn't you? Not having Greg around to do those little 'honey-do' projects."

"Let's not talk about him any more, please," Lou said with a touch of exasperation. "He's part of my past and I'd like to keep him there. As for the workshop, yes, I needed it to do maintenance. There's also a workout room of sorts, to do maintenance of a different kind. Come down and see it."

"Okay. Just let me fill my glass again." Jeff refilled his wine glass and took an appreciative sip. "You've got good taste in wine."

"I only buy wine that tastes good," was her answer as she guided him out of the living room and down the hall.

In the kitchen, she put her own wine glass aside on the small table, poured herself a glass of water, then opened the door and turned on the light to the basement. Jeff followed her down the winding stairs, holding onto the rail tightly. His eyes widened and he nodded to see the punching bag in the center of the main portion of the basement and the weights off to one side.

"I see what you meant about a different kind of maintenance," he quipped.

She smiled slightly. "Yes, have to keep the martial arts skills sharp and the figure in shape." Lou led him past the equipment. "The workshop is in here."

She turned on the music player, flooding the room with the same light jazz that was playing in the kitchen. He watched with puzzlement as she pushed a small button on the side of the player and a tiny red light came up. He sat down on the workbench stool as she showed him the tools she had acquired and talked about the little things she had done around the house. Just as he was getting bored. he heard her say softly, "That should do it." Then she reached behind the player and he heard the quiet snick of a switch. Lou unconsciously held her breath as the red light turned to green. She gave Jeff a little smile, then reached over and rubbed the concealed glassy area.

Jeff nearly spilled his wine as a door slid open on the other side of the room. She picked up her drink and stepped into the dark void beyond the doorway. Lights came on inside and Jeff got a glimpse of a sophisticated computer system. She turned on the stereo in there, the light jazz matching what was playing in the workshop, then she looked out at him, and beckoned him inside. He followed, ducking his head, too stunned to say anything, and the door closed behind him.

There was a moment of silence between them as she booted up the computer. She motioned for him to sit down, then she leaned against the wall and sipped her water.

"I suppose you're wondering why all the cloak and dagger?" she said, making it more or a statement than a question.

"Yes. Absolutely," Jeff said sternly, all of his mellowness gone in this new revelation.

She looked down at the toes of her sneakers, then looked up to gaze into his eyes.

"My house is bugged. And I'm being watched."

He was tempted to scoff at her, but then he remembered what she had done for a living. "How can you be sure?"

"There are signs. I know how to spot a tail, how to detect a watcher. You saw me turn on the stereo? Then push a side button? That was an invention worked out by me and a friend. It detects any listening devices or cameras in a room. The red light meant that there was active surveillance going on. You saw me reach in back? I turned on a switch. When the light turned green, a second device was jamming whatever was in the room. I check all of my rooms daily, sometimes more than once. I checked them all when I got home from your island. They were all bugged while I was gone. I don't dare take the bugs out because then they'll know I'm on to them."

"What about this?" Jeff indicated the room they were in.

"They didn't find it. When I bought the house, there had been a porch over a portion of the basement, a small room that had been used to store coal. A contractor friend helped me take the porch down, dig out some of the floor, and build a good sturdy roof and ceiling over this room, one slightly below level of the ground around the rest of the foundation. That's why the ceiling is so much lower. We also poured a new concrete floor, and waterproofed the whole thing. He did the electrical and heating work, and built the door. Then I covered the top of the room with dirt and planted azaleas, so the ground outside looks natural. No one who measures the square footage of the house and the basement would find any discrepancy between the two." She sipped her drink. "He has no idea what I use it for. I told him I wanted a panic room."

"I bet he thought you needed one. Why, Lou? Why all this secrecy?"

She swallowed another mouthful of water. "Why? I guess part of it is the nature of my old job. The longer you're in such a situation, the more paranoid you get because you know how easily you can become the target. You know how the skills and devices of your job can be turned around and used against you. Especially if you come across some potentially damaging information about some powerful person. Or... some sensitive information that no one should have. Period."

There was a pregnant pause, and Jeff took a sip of wine. He considered the woman before him; in public so very much his old friend, but here, much more serious, much more focused, and much more intense than he remembered. She watched him over the rim of her glass, their eyes meeting, doubt and suspicion in his and, in hers, a quiet sadness.

"So. Why did you bring me down here?" he asked.

She put her glass down, and reached under the desk, pulling out a silvery disk. She showed it to him, letting him read the notations on it, then slipping it into her computer's disk drive.

"Two, two and a half months ago, a colleague of mine handed me a file as he was heading out the door one evening. He told me that he was going on vacation, and not to open the file unless something happened to him. If something did, however, I was to... deal with the file." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then down at Jeff again. Her voice wavered as she continued. "He said he could count on me to do the right thing." She stopped and swallowed, and when she picked up the narrative, her voice was steadier, but flat, as if recounting something she didn't want to remember. "I took the file and put it away safely. Three weeks into his month of vacation, he and his wife went to Istanbul. And there they were brutally murdered."

"I was upset, of course, and I offered to join the investigative team. But I was told that the locals would be handling it. That was red flag number one. When an Interpol agent is killed, we are in charge of the whole investigation, from beginning to end. There's usually a feeling of grim purpose around the offices. But not this time. This time I distinctly felt that it was all being swept under the rug.

"Then our supervisor came around, looking for all the jobs my colleague had been working on during the past few months. Red flag number two. A supervisor is supposed to be on top of that kind of information; she schedules everything. But it seemed that some of this agent's jobs had slipped through her fingers. I was suspicious by this time, and lied to her, saying that I hadn't gotten anything from him. Then I took the file home and came down here and opened it up.

"There were several sheets of paper, which I immediately burned. But, to my dismay, everything had been scanned and placed on this disk." She reached out and brought up a file and opened it. "This is the first picture I saw."

Jeff's eyes widened and he leaned toward the plasma screen. "Oh my God," he whispered. "Virgil..."