eleven

Ruth climbed in and shut the door. “Why does that revelation worry me just a bit?”

Vaslik smiled. “You and me both. It doesn’t mean he was into anything bad. And there’s nothing left on his file to show he was operational or involved in anything left-field. Most people working in military intelligence are analysts, researchers and the like.”

“So he was a desk warrior.”

“Probably.” He started the car. “Where to now? We’ve got two key pieces of evidence in the trunk, don’t forget.” He was referring to the hard hat and the knife, which would both have fingerprints all over them. “I can call some favours and get them evaluated to see what they show up.”

“They’ll keep,” Ruth replied. “I vote we go back to StoneSeal.”

“Really? That didn’t go too well yesterday, remember.”

“I’d like another crack at Janna Conway. I think she might talk to me. I got the feeling she would have been more help if MacInnes and his armed goons hadn’t come bowling along when they did.”

“What are you thinking of asking her? That’s if you even get inside the building without getting your butt kicked.”

“Think positive, Slik. We girls have our ways. Yesterday we didn’t get a chance to ask about friends or work colleagues. There must be someone he was friendly with. He might have been freelance but he couldn’t have worked in a total vacuum.”

Vaslik thought it over and his expression showed it had given him an idea. “It would help if we got a look at Chadwick’s job application. It might fill in some of the gaps about him. And you’re right—it would be good to find out what kind of social life he had outside of work.”

“Assuming he had one. It might show what made him take out the Cruxys contract.” They drove along in silence for a while, then Ruth asked, “Do you think StoneSeal is on the level?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Elizabeth Chadwick didn’t like them. She was bitter, I got that, but I also got a sense that she was talking from intuition. And did you pick up any kind of atmosphere about the place? I couldn’t make it out. There was a lot of space but not much activity. And why all the muscle?”

“I know what you mean. I asked my contact if he’d ever heard of them. He had but he wasn’t sure what service sector they were in. But as an approved contractor to the federal government, they would have authority to employ a heavier level of security than most companies. Which throws up another possibility.”

“What?”

“Their staff would have undergone standard vetting procedure before being allowed anywhere near any government facilities or systems. StoneSeal should have kept a copy of that procedure for Chadwick, and that might throw up some leads.”

Ruth sat back and mulled it over. She knew enough about the world of military intelligence to know that it wasn’t all James Bond, being mostly unglamorous work involving communications intelligence and analysis, cryptography, security, surveillance, counterintelligence, and reconnaissance. But that was one side. On the other it was murky and in the shadows. If an officer had any kind of restriction on his military record, it meant he or the section he’d worked for had been involved in highly classified activities that would probably never see the light of day.

Yet somebody had possessed the clout to move Chadwick’s file very recently. Was that for hiding even deeper or for another reason?

Vaslik pulled up round the block from the StoneSeal building. “You go in alone. I’ll wait here.”

Ruth walked into the building and was met by the same empty space, the same receptionist, but two different guards.

“Good morning. How may I help you?” If the receptionist recognised her, she gave no indication.

“I’d like to talk with Janna Conway in Human Resources,” said Ruth, and gave her name.

She smiled as she spoke, but it drew no response save a brief double look, no doubt because of her accent.

She and Vaslik had agreed that if Conway was like most HR people, she would know more about the company’s employees than was on their files. If not, she would certainly have an ear for any rumour floating around. And changing the focus of the questions and the person making them might promote some useful answers.

“One moment, please.” The receptionist tapped some keys and spoke briefly, then made a signal to one of the security guards, who walked over and handed Ruth a visitor’s pass. “If you go with Germaine, he’ll show you upstairs.”

She was escorted back to the third floor, but this time to an office on the sharp side of the wedge-shaped building, with a pleasant view both ways overlooking the road intersection outside. Ms. Conway was waiting for her in the doorway and invited Ruth to sit. The room was pleasant, functional, and the only personal item on show was a photo of a man and teenage girl, their smiles as alike as two peas in a pod.

“Your husband and daughter?” said Ruth, indicating the photo.

“Yes, that’s right. Michael and Rainna.” She smiled, plainly proud of her family, then added, “You’re not American, Ms. Gonzales.”

“Please call me Ruth. No, I’m British. I’ve been assigned to work with Mr. Vaslik on this matter.”

“I see. In what way are the British involved?”

“I was tasked to liaise with James Chadwick’s wife, Elizabeth, about his disappearance. She’s British and lives in London. Part of my remit is to ensure they have every assistance in finding out what happened to him. As you might imagine his son, Ben, is very upset. He’s about the same age as your daughter and has taken it very hard. In view of his father’s apparent disappearance while working over here, it was decided to extend the search to the US. I was asked to come over and help.” She added, “I’m sorry for bursting in on you again like this, Ms. Conway, especially after yesterday. I hope we didn’t get you into trouble.”

“No. It was fine. And please call me Janna. Mr. MacInnes is very sensitive about the government side of our work, that’s all. It’s a tough business to be in at the moment and we’re all aware that contracts are never guaranteed to last.” She hesitated, then added carefully, “I mean he may have overreacted to your visit.”

“Yet you’re still willing to see me. I’m surprised I made it past the front desk.”

Janna gave a brief laugh. “The security guards look tough, but they haven’t shot anyone recently.” She sat back and waited.

“Well, I thought of some further questions you might be able to help with, if you’re willing.”

“Of course.” Janna glanced at the photo of her husband and daughter and frowned in understanding. “It must be awful for his family, not knowing what’s happened. How can I help?”

“I understand that as a consultant or employee working for an approved-government contractor, James would have undergone a fairly rigorous vetting procedure, is that correct?”

“Yes. We would have run our own vetting procedure, but his background would have been subject to a federal agency vetting, too, even if he wasn’t necessarily engaged on government-related contracts.”

“Would it be possible to take a look at those records, please? I know it’s asking a lot, but frankly, anything I can find about him might help locate his whereabouts.”

Janna frowned. “I wish I could help you—and normally I would. But I’m afraid it’s not possible. The files have been removed.”

“Who by?”

“I don’t know. I was asked to send the complete employee record to Mr. MacInnes. It would have included everything, his vetting summary, assessments, assignment details, personal data—everything. That was the last I saw of them.”

“When was this?”

Janna hesitated and her voice dropped slightly. “Yesterday, not long after you left.”

“I see. And I don’t suppose it would be worth asking him?”

“No. He will probably repeat what he said yesterday.” She shrugged. “I’m so sorry about this, Ruth, really. I’m not sure what else I can tell you. But I’m sure Mr. MacInnes will do all he can to help.”

“What about friends?” Ruth switched the focus and tone deliberately away from the negative. “Did he have any that you know of ?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Work colleagues socialise. James must have forged some relationships. Was there anyone in particular?”

“Well, he was a married man—”

“I’m not implying anything untoward. But he must have had some colleagues closer than others. Was there anybody he had drinks with or with whom he shared interests or activities? Anybody in his private life, for example?” Ruth hesitated. “I’m sure you want to help, and your discretion is admirable. But we need to find him. Nobody vanishes so completely like this unless there’s something very wrong.”

Janna hesitated and dropped her gaze for a moment. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Whatever you know … whatever you’ve heard,” Ruth persisted gently. “Anything, however remote or unlikely, please tell me. If it gives me a lead it could be of enormous help to James and his family.”

There was a long pause, then Janna said, “There was a rumour about Valerie. I didn’t give it any credence, personally … but she and James seemed fairly close, I heard.”

“Who’s Valerie? Do you have a surname?”

Janna blinked. “You’ve already met her. Downstairs. Valerie DiPalma—our receptionist.”

“Could you ask her to come up here, please? I’d love to speak with her.”

“Of course.” She reached for the phone and asked for Valerie DiPalma. She listened for a moment before replacing the phone and frowning. “I don’t understand.”

“What?” said Ruth.

“She’s not there. The security guards said she felt unwell and went home. Right after you arrived.”

Ruth stood up. “Can you give me an address?” She felt the press of urgency. It just seemed too coincidental, the receptionist leaving the building so suddenly.

Janna tapped her keyboard and scribbled down the details on a slip of paper, and held it out. “She’s listed online, so please don’t tell her I gave you this information.”

“Of course.” Ruth took the piece of paper. It showed a Newark address. If DiPalma had been close to Chadwick, she was probably the only person who might have some idea about why he had gone off the radar and where he might be now. They could only find that out if they got to her before she, too, disappeared. “Thank you, Janna. I appreciate your help.”