Part 13 (2/2)

For a moment, his vision was normal and then Brodeur appeared in front of it. He was wearing a drape over his clothing to catch spatter, and unlike most people when speaking on a visual link, he did not try to clean up.

He appeared to be leaning on a desk, peering at a screen rather than using his internal links like Nyquist was.

”I know, I know,” Brodeur said. ”You caught the Hunting Club case. We'll deal with it when you get back here. There's too much to discuss on a secure link.”

Meaning he didn't want to risk leaking information, even on a supposedly secure link. Not that Nyquist blamed him. What it meant, though, was that Gumiela hadn't yet announced Bowles's death, which was good for him.

”I've just got one question for you,” Nyquist said.

”Cause of death should have been obvious,” Brodeur snapped, and Nyquist almost smiled. Once DeRicci had told him how much she hated Brodeur and his preemptory manner, but Nyquist found it amusing.

”At least let me ask the question first,” Nyquist said.

Brodeur sighed. ”Quickly.”

”Have you identified the other body yet?”

”Not entirely,” he said.

Whatever Nyquist had expected, it wasn't that. Brodeur was usually very certain of himself. ”What does that mean?”

”It means our second corpse has history under various names.”

”Which one came up first?” Nyquist asked.

”Enzio Lamfier.”

”Which means nothing to me,” Nyquist said. ”Is he from Armstrong? Did he just come through the port? Was he a guest at the Hunting Club?”

”Those questions are for detectives to answer,” Brodeur said. ”But I do know that he has other ident.i.ties as well. I'm just not able to confirm them as yet. You do know that we have a spate of celebrity bodies today.”

”Spate?” Nyquist asked. ”I thought only two.” ”Two is plenty,” Brodeur said. ”In fact, it's too many. I have press everywhere, and I haven't even gotten the Whitford body yet.”

”Do they know about our first victim?”

”No one's asked yet,” Brodeur said.

”The second one-”

”Whitford?”

”No,” Nyquist said. ”This Lamfier or whatever his name is. In your initial scan, did you turn up any ties to Whitford Security?”

Brodeur nodded. ”I thought you already knew that part.”

”What part?” Nyquist asked.

”Apparently he was a.s.signed as a bodyguard to our other victim. He might have died trying to save her.” ”Might have?” Nyquist asked.

”The wounds aren't clear, and I've been too busy to examine them closely. Besides, I find these shadow ident.i.ties suspicious, especially for a bodyguard. Now, may I return to my work?”

”Sure,” Nyquist said, and shut down the link.

He remained in the living room for a moment, staring at the handhelds without really seeing them. Two people with ties to Whitford Security dead, as well as Bowles. And without stretching things, she could be seen as tied to them as well.

Obviously Gumiela hadn't thought of that or she would have contacted him when Whitford's body turned up. Nyquist needed to contact her, and then he had to insinuate himself into that investigation. ”Let me know what you find,” he sent to Leidmann through his links. Then he left Bowles's apartment and headed back to the precinct, hoping that Gumiela was in a receptive mood.

18.

Flint was too nervous to sit in Van Alen's office. He paced across the cream-colored carpet, skimming his fingers against the back of the upholstered chairs.

Van Alen leaned against her desk, watching him.

”We have to a.s.sume that Ki Bowles's death is linked to the story,” Flint said.

Van Alen didn't move. ”I know. I'm wondering if we did something wrong. We knew that she wouldn't be totally safe. I just never expected her to die.”

”You knew it was a risk,” Flint said, his fingers still skimming. ”We talked about it.” ”A risk is one thing,” Van Alen said. ”An actual murder is another.”

Through the opaque gla.s.s, he could make out a coffee, blue, and blondish blur. That blur was Talia. He had asked Van Alen to set up the waiting room perimeter alarm and to shut off the room's external computers.

If Talia tried to go to another part of the office, the alarms would go off. If she tried to access one of the computers, she couldn't because there was no obvious way to hack in. Flint had updated the system for Van Alen six months before.

”We don't know if Bowles's death was random or if it was connected to the story,” Flint said. ”We have to a.s.sume it was connected. Don't you think it odd that she died today of all days?” ”Yes,” he said, ”I do.”

He stopped pacing and frowned at Van Alen. He had a sudden realization.

”She shouldn't have died so quickly,” he said. ”If Justinian Wagner was going after her, he wouldn't have done it like this. He would have tried to find out where she got the information first.”

”Maybe he did,” Van Alen said. ”We don't know what happened just before she died.” Flint flopped into a nearby chair. ”Thuggishness is not his way. He'd've tried to finesse it. Unless he already knew she was working on the story.”

He was talking more to himself than Van Alen. But she didn't know that. She answered as if he were speaking directly to her.

”He had to know something,” Van Alen said. ”She corroborated the facts you gave her with some of his former employees.”

”And the stuff they gave her was stuff they'd given other reporters,” he said.

”So he killed her for the uncorroborated stuff? At least, the stuff that seems uncorroborated? Isn't that odd?”

”It's all odd,” Flint said, ”and yet I feel like I shouldn't be surprised. I picked . . .”

He let the sentence trail off. He wasn't going to admit to anyone that one of the many reasons he had chosen Ki Bowles to report this story was that he didn't like her. He had hoped it wouldn't bother him much if something happened to her.

But it did bother him. And not just because it had happened so much sooner than he expected, but because Bowles had done a good job.

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