“That’s all, gentlemen,” Ferguson suddenly said. “Thanks for coming in. Sorry for the misunderstanding.”
“No, thank you, Agent Ferguson,” Ethan Weber said, standing. “And you, too, Agent Hagen. I forgive you for your insults. I know how much you’ve been through.”
“See that last little dig there, Bill?” Kit said. “That was in reference to Ethan having me shot. This son of a bitch had me shot. He killed Dennis Braddock and the others. Splattered them all over the top of Grand Teton and you’re going to let him walk out of here?”
“We don’t have a warrant anymore, Kit,” Ferguson said as Weber and his phalanx of lawyers pushed past them out the door.
“I don’t care. He killed her. That video on the screen is complete bullshit and you know it.”
“I do, Kit. But would a jury buy that? They wouldn’t. We need to retreat here a bit.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Bill. That computer freak is the only one allowed to do the buying around here, isn’t he? He’s the only one who buys things. Like senators, judges, district attorneys, FBI personnel.”
“We don’t have a body, Kit,” Bill Ferguson said quietly as he stared down at his shoes. “If we had the body, we could do something, but we don’t.”
“Who is this then?” Kit said, lifting the paper. “Who is this dead woman? And let’s not forget Tracy Sandhurst, mutilated and then draped like a party streamer up on Grand Teton to cover it up!”
“Chill, Kit,” Ferguson said, standing with a sigh. “We’re going to nail him but just not now. It’s only a matter of time. He can’t get out of it. He really can’t. This is just a stall tactic. This is round one.”
“Yeah, round one,” Kit said as she stumbled out of the conference room. “A round one knockout.”
She was coming by the director’s office in the hall when she stopped.
“Kit, no!” Bill Ferguson said, hurrying after her as she walked inside.
“Excuse me, you can’t go in there,” said Agent Schoolmarm as Kit burst past her and threw open the door.
Inside, off to the left, Director Foldager himself was sitting at a dining table by the window, eating Chinese food and laughing with three other Brooks-Brothers-suited cronies.
“You must leave now,” the agent said.
“No, no, Carol. Honestly, it’s fine,” said the photogenic father-figure-like FBI director, smiling.
He lay down his chopsticks as Kit walked over.
“Special Agent Hagen, is it?” he said. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, I’m here to help you, actually,” Kit said.
“Oh, boy,” said Bill Ferguson as he arrived behind her.
“Is that right?”
“Do you remember in the Old Testament where Lot tries to save Sodom and Gomorrah?” Kit said.
“Perhaps,” the director said, shrugging his shoulders.
“See, God wants to vaporize the cities because of how foul and rotten-to-core they’ve become, but Lot bargains with God. Lot says, ‘God, if there’s just one good person left—just one—will you spare them?’ And God says okay, but then what do you know? It turns out there isn’t even one, so God nukes everything from orbit.”
“Your point, Special Agent?”
Kit looked up at the coffered ceiling, then back level into the director’s eyes.
“I’d stay the hell out of this place if I were you,” she said.