Teddy was having no problem searching the cabins. He was posing as a none-too-swift private investigator and it was very effective. People were pleasant, even kindly, to the affable if somewhat bumbling old man who apologized effusively for the intrusion and frequently referred to his notes as if he were somewhat afraid this was an assignment he was incapable of doing.
“Milton Hasbrook,” he said, inventing the name out of whole cloth. “He claims the place is his, and points to a broken window to support his claim.”
“A broken window?” the woman who appeared to own the cabin, and probably did, said. “No such thing.”
“Well, I’d be very happy to report there was not,” Teddy said.
Teddy scratched a lot of cabins off his list, but had nothing to show for it. In between stops he called Millie Martindale to see if she was doing any better.
“How’s it going?” he said.
“Well, I’m eliminating a lot of possibilities.”
“You skip anything?”
“No. I got in everywhere. Two cabins looked promising. One was a family on a camping trip. The other was vacant. The screen door was open, so I went in. There was no sign of the girl, and no indication she’d ever been there. It didn’t look like anyone had been there for a while.”
“You marked the location?”
“Absolutely, as a place to recheck. But my gut feeling is no.”
“Anybody give you trouble?”
“Not really.”
“You have to show your ID?”
“A couple of times.”
“What’d you use for a cover story?”
“I told them I was looking for an escaped mental patient with a habit of hiding in people’s cabins. They were glad to have me look.”
“They didn’t ask you why the CIA was tracking an escaped mental patient?”
“I may have had my thumb over that part of the ID. The important part’s the official seal and my photo.”
“Do you have many more cabins?”
“There appear to be quite a few.”
“Have you heard from Quentin?”
“He just called. Nothing yet, but a couple of possibles to recheck.”
“We’ve got to step up the pace. Congress reconvenes at two o’clock to take the vote. We’re not going to make it.”
“There’s four hundred some odd congressmen. Won’t a roll call vote take all afternoon?”
“They do it electronically. It won’t take more than fifteen minutes.”
“I’ve seen roll call votes where they stand up and say aye.”
“That’s the Senate. They only do it in the House when the electronic ballot fails.”
“How often does that happen?”
“Not often enough,” Teddy said. He hung up and called Kevin. “We’ve got to narrow this down. Have you got anything yet?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Teddy took a breath. “Listen, can you hack into anything?”
“I wouldn’t say anything.”
“A simple electronic calculator.”
“Connected to the Internet?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t have time to find out.”
“What do you need?”