Detwiler punched Memory 1 on the satellite phone and waited for the signal to connect.
“Special Agent Turlock,” said the voice on the other end.
“It’s me, Frank.”
“Where are you? I’ve been waiting.”
“I’ve been busy,” Detwiler said. “I’m in the boat. I’m downtown, not far from the Superdome.”
“The Superdome? Why?”
“I followed Polchak and Kibbee there.”
“And?”
“I took care of Kibbee,” he said. “Polchak and the boy got away.”
There was silence on the other end.
“You still there?”
“I’m here. Did Polchak see you?”
“No—and they won’t find Kibbee for days. As far as Polchak knows, his friend just disappeared.”
“I told you to take care of this in the Lower Nine.”
“It’s impossible—there are boats everywhere now. I was following them just like we agreed; they headed across the canal again. This time I went after them, but I had to keep my distance ’cause it’s still daylight—I’d be even easier to spot than before.”
“You’re making this too complicated, John. Pull up beside them, take out your gun, and finish the job.”
“It’s not that easy, Frank. Gunshots carry for miles over water—what if somebody saw me? We’d be in big trouble then.”
“We’re in big trouble now,” Turlock said. “That’s what I can’t seem to get through that thick head of yours.”
“Look, I tracked ’em as far as the Superdome. They must have stashed their boat somewhere nearby; by the time I got there they were already wading in—Polchak, Kibbee, and the boy. I don’t know what they were doing there.”
“I do. Polchak is helping the boy find his father—that’s why the boy’s been with them every day. He must have decided to check out the evacuation centers.”
“How do you know that?”
“Dr. Woodbridge’s phone log; she did a background check on the boy with Health and Human Services. Remember Dr. Woodbridge? There’s another little detail we’ve let slip.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Detwiler said. “I was under fire out there in the bayou—I couldn’t get a clear shot. Some guy had an assault rifle—where’d he get that?”
“Welcome to Louisiana.”
“Well—at least we know who’s helping Polchak on the inside.”
“And now we’ve got another loose end to take care of. What went wrong at the Superdome?”
“I don’t know. I followed ’em in. The place was a madhouse. People everywhere—it stinks like a pigsty. There’s a lot of angry people there; I figured, a couple of FEMA workers turn up dead—who wouldn’t believe that? And the boy, I figured I’d just haul him off by himself—nobody’d make the connection. It was perfect.”
“Then what went wrong?”
“I couldn’t get them all in one place. I spotted Kibbee first—he was easy enough—but when I finally found Polchak and the boy, they were standing with a couple of National Guardsmen. They must have stayed there for two hours; I thought maybe they were on to me, so I finally left. I went back out to my boat and waited for them to leave—figured I’d let ’em come to me instead.”
“And?”
“They just disappeared. I figured they’d go back the same way they came, so I picked a good spot to do the job and waited for them there—but they never showed up. I can’t understand it—where did they go?”
“Never mind,” Turlock said. “What we need to decide is what to do next—and we’d better think of something fast. Why do you think Polchak was in that bayou last night? He went straight to that lab; somehow he found out about it. He’s making the connections, John—how long before he connects it all to us?”
“What do you want me to do now?”
“The same thing you were supposed to do last night and today: Find Polchak and the boy and finish the job.”
“And the woman?”
“That could get complicated,” he said. “Better leave that to me.”
“Right. I’ll be in touch.”
“And John.”
“Yeah?”
“No more excuses—we need results.”