Part 22 (1/2)
”Monica.”
”No soft soap, Tony. This is getting creepy. I agreed to let you in here. It's strictly against the rules of the house.”
”Max knows all about it.”
”Really? Well, he's said nothing to me about it.”
”Do you want to find out who had Peter Curran killed?”
Monica gave a little shudder. ”I already know that. The diqui.”
”Possibly.”
”Meaning?”
”Meaning I want to know what the h.e.l.l the diqui is doing in Encarnacion a a place where they have no right to be.”
”Because of the n.a.z.is?”
”Because of the n.a.z.is.”
There was silence for a time. The twilit offices were still around them. The air was off and it was stuffy.
”What do you think happened to Peter?” Monica said after a time.
”He ran afoul of someone,” Simbal said. ”But I'm not convinced that it was the diqui.”
”Who then?”
”Would you let me find out?”
Monica hesitated for just a moment. Then she said, ”Which agency?”
Drew blank with the FBI and the CIA both. But the CIA's Strategic Narcotics Teamthe people Simbal called SNITshad their own computer network.
”I think I'd better take over,” Monica said, displacing him in the console chair. ”The SNIT files are like minefields. They're so paranoid over there the calling up of certain files triggers an internal alert.”
”Any way to get around it?”
”What are we looking for?”
”Same thing,” Simbal said. ”a.s.signments, vacations.”
Monica's fingers flew over the keyboard, calling up and putting back files. ”Nothing that fits,” she said, ”in either category.”
”So I see,” Simbal said morosely.
She was just about to pull out of the SNIT files entirely when she caught an electronic asterisk.
”What's that?”
”I don't know,” she said. ”Let's follow it.” A moment later the answer swam up onto the screen.
”A leave of absence,” Simbal said. ”Jesus Christ.”
”The dates are right,” Monica said. *The leave began two days after Peter left for Paraguay.”
”And he's not back yet. You know this guy Edward Martin Bennett?”
”Zip.”
”Personnel.”
Monica complied, switching files. ”Ooops,” she said. ”This one's mined, all right. I'll have to find a way around it.” And did, in twelve minutes. ”Okay,” she announced, ”here's their scoop on Bennett.” The screen began the scroll of data.
BENNETT, EDWARD MARTIN, BORN 3/13/36, DULUTH, MINNESOTA. PARENTS.
”Skip that,” Simbal said.
EDUCATED SINDON GRAMMAR SCHOOL, FITZSIMMONS HIGH SCHOOL. TRANSFERRED TO VARLEY PREP IN VALLEY FORGE, PENNSYLVANIA 1/4/50. B.A., M.S., FROM YALE UNIVERSITY, CLa.s.s OF 1956. MEMBER OF SWIM, LACROSSE, SOCCER TEAMS. PHI BETA KAPPA. VARSITY SOCCER CAPTAIN, 1956. MEMBER h.e.l.lFIRE CLUB.
”Stop it right there,” Simbal said, feeling excitement growing in him. ”This guy and Peter were at Yale together.”
”Coincidence?”
”Also the h.e.l.lfire Club.”
”Is that significant?”
”Yeah,” Simbal said, remembering the signet ring Threnody said had been found. ”It just may be.”
Monica withdrew from the SNIT files and they switched over to the airline schedules.
”Pick it up two days after Peter left.” Monica reviewed the carriers. ”This could take some time.”
”Nope,” Simbal said, his forefinger stabbing at the screen. ”Here it is!”
PAN AM FLIGHT 107, DEPARTING 11 A.M., JFK, ARRIVING 7 P.M. BENNETT, EDWARD MARTIN.
”Mexico City,” Simbal said.
Monica's fingers continued to work the keyboard. ”There's no connecting flight to Paraguay but there is a flight to Buenos Aires.” She hummed a little. ”His name's not on the pa.s.senger manifest.”
”I'm not surprised. I wouldn't advertise if I was going that way, either.”
”Found his name again,” Monica said. Simbal's excitement was becoming contagious. ”Here's the flight plan: Mexico Cityhe left there a week after we were notified of Peter's death. He flew to San Francisco. After a day's layover, he flew out to Miami.”
”He still there?”
Monica hit the keyboard. ”Well,” she said, ”he hasn't flown out.”