“This whole crazy tour,” Schmidty said. “Talking to mentally disturbed people, working on the symphony in public, playing sing-a-long to rural bumpkins, and whatever else tomorrow holds.”
“I’m trying to keep one step ahead of a man who wants to kill me,” Seth said. “You, too, by the way.”
“I know,” Schmidty said. “I’d just . . . and Everest, he . . .”
Schmidty clamped his mouth closed. His eyes blinked a fast tempo before the young man swallowed hard.
“I know,” Seth smiled.
The young man gave Seth an embarrassed smile. With one last order to rest, Schmidty left the room. Seth stared at the wall for a moment before unpacking the interview video tapes and setting up the video camera for playback. He started playing the interviews and unfolded the paper in his hand.
The message was only two words. He’d received a login to a secure server in Washington, DC. Of course, you’d have to know what it meant to know what it means. Seth grinned. He opened his laptop, went to the server, and entered the information. He saw his webcam turn on and then off. After a few moments, the screen changed to a file folder on a server.
There were a series of reports about Liễu Chiến, Major Cotton, and to Seth’s surprise, Brent Davies. Seth wasn’t able to save them or print the reports. He had access to read them and take notes. That was all. They could never be used as evidence in a case. The last document was a timeline of Liễu Chiến’s activities since arriving in the country in 1975.
Until he was recruited to assist with US-Vietnam diplomacy in 1990, Liễu Chiến was a schoolteacher in Tucson, Arizona. Seth felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He dug out the bio Éowyn had helped him put together on Davies.
The State Attorney went to the high school where Liễu Chiến worked. Seth flipped through the Major General’s file for Chiến’s address. He put both addresses into a mapping program and found that Davies and Chiến had been neighbors. Seth fell back in his seat.
Just then, a thirty-second timer appeared on the screen. Seth did another quick review of the documents. He was staring at the timeline when the screen went dark. He’d be able to log in again tomorrow, but tomorrow this information would be gone. He closed his eyes to try to make sure he sealed in all the details from the reports he’d read.
Seth got up to make a cup of caffeinated coffee. He looked one way and then the other before pouring out Schmidty’s decaf and putting a caffeinated coffee pack into the little cup coffeemaker. The first time they had traveled together, Schmidty had set up video cameras to keep track of “his artist.” It drove Seth crazy. He didn’t quite trust Schmidty’s promise to never to tape him again. Shaking his head at the memory, he flipped on the coffee maker. He got a cup of yogurt, rinsed the berries in the sink, and settled into eat.
Was Liễu Chiến the knife? Or the hand that controlled the carving knife?
He looked up when the video camera stopped playing Barton’s interviews of people with cattle-mutilation experiences. Getting up from the desk, he put in another tape and went back to eating and thinking.
The fact that Liễu Chiến was a mutilator was no surprise to anyone, including, according to the intelligence documents, Major Cotton. In fact, Major Cotton brought up the matter when they recruited Liễu Chiến to help restore relations between the US and Vietnam.
Why had Major Cotton come to visit Seth? What was the purpose of his visit?
Hearing the coffee maker sputter in the bathroom, Seth got up to get a cup of coffee. At the desk, he took out the Major General’s personal file to read through it again.
What if Dale was right and the mutilations were being used to cover up some other activity?
Seth checked the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and the Chicago Tribune to see if he’d missed some event happening in the US when Everest was being killed. He checked newspapers in the United Kingdom and went through the Vietnamese newspapers’ websites. There seemed to be nothing going on.
“BFBL, Nelson speaking,” Nelson said when he answered the phone to Ava’s lab.
“Hey, Nelson,” Seth said.
“Seth! We were just talking about you,” Nelson said. “Ava, it’s Seth!”
“Can you do me a favor?” Seth asked.
“Sure,” Nelson said. “Shoot.”
“I need you to cross-reference when the mutilations happened with national news,” Seth said.
“From what Dale said?” Nelson asked. “I already did that. I can send it to you.”
“What did you find?” Seth asked.
“Nothing,” Nelson said. “I mean, there was fighting in the Middle East and China is communist and whatever, but nothing new. Just the usual murder and mayhem.”
“I wonder if it’s something personal with Davies,” Seth said.
“Or that guy you saw in Vietnam,” Nelson said.
“How . . .?”
“Maresol told Ava,” Nelson said. “You’re a hot topic of gossip, man. Say, did you take that girl back to your room?”
“What girl?” Seth asked.
“The one who was hanging all over you at Adams State,” Nelson said.
“Tonight?” Seth asked. “There was a girl hanging all over me? You sure?”
“Saw you on the news,” Nelson laughed. “You didn’t notice her?”
“Who?” Seth asked.
“He says he didn’t notice her,” Nelson said to the people around him.
“How about her gigantic silicone melons?” Leslie yelled.
“I have kind of a lot on my mind,” Seth said. “I missed the melons.”
Seth waited until Nelson stopped laughing.
“Can you check what’s going on in Davies’ life around the times of the murders?” Seth asked. “I’ll send you his timeline.”
“I have it,” Nelson said. “What about the other guy?”
“Liễu Chiến. That’s his name,” Seth said.
“And? Do I get his timeline too?” Nelson asked.
“I can put something together,” Seth said. “But he’s . . .”
“Got it,” Nelson said. “I’ll have this to you tonight. Here’s Ava.”
“O’Malley!” Ava said. “How’s the whoring around the countryside?”
Seth laughed. He was fumbling for a snappy response when something from Barton’s video interviews caught his attention. He looked up at the video.
“Seth?” Ava’s voice became concerned. “You okay? I was just joking. I . . .”
“Sorry,” Seth got up and paused the video camera playback. “I did it again.”
“Someday, you’re going to have a stroke, and I’m not going to notice,” Ava said.
“Let’s hope I don’t have a stroke,” Seth said.
Ava laughed.
“Miss you,” Ava said.
“Me, too,” Seth said.
“How long are you running the horse and pony show?”
“Dog and pony,” Seth said.
“Whatever,” Ava said.
“Just this week,” Seth said. “I think I’m getting somewhere.”
“Schmidty called,” Ava said. “He said you’re wiped out. He’s worried you’re getting sick again.”
“Working on symphonies wears me out,” Seth said. “And . . .”
“And?”
“I don’t like being the prodigy,” Seth said. “It’s like being the freak in the sideshow. These kids are talented, really, and so jealous . . . of me of all people. They don’t have any idea of the cost. They just want the reward. And all this software, software, software—‘I can’t believe the great O’Malley still transcribes onto paper.’ Or ‘You know you could double your productivity.’ I’m looking at this kid who’s never composed or sold anything, and he’s worried about my productivity. The whole thing . . .”
“Sounds exhausting,” Ava said. “I bet you miss Mitch.”
“I miss Mitch,” Seth said. “He would have gotten me to laugh it off.”
“Did you know that Maresol dated Mitch?” Ava asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Seth said.
“She’s very much in love with him,” Ava said.
“How . . .?”
“She was talking about it after that drill sergeant left,” Ava said. “She’s pretty upset about all of this.”
“That makes two of us,” Seth said. “How are your remains going?”
“Good,” Ava said. “Tiring. The bone-lab team spent a couple hours training us in what to look for and what we should pass on to them. They’re amazing, so talented. Oh, the Chief wants you to call. I guess Davies came to yell at him about your incompetence and ‘inability to follow a simple request.’ The Chief was watching you on the news when he arrived. He’s pretty amused.”
“Why was Davies upset?” Seth asked.
“He says you’re not taking his request seriously,” Ava said.
“Huh,” Seth said.
“I wonder what he’s . . .” they said in unison and laughed.
“It’s a pressure tactic,” Seth said. “Get the chief to pressure me. Keep the pressure on here, so I can’t track down the rest.”
“I forgot to tell you,” Ava said. “The bone team thinks they’ve come up with how the victims are subdued.”
“How?” Seth asked.
“Electric stun,” Ava said. “Like in cattle. The electric stun can burn the skin. That’s why he takes the patch in the forehead, or that’s what we think right now. With that piece of skin missing, you can’t tell how they were subdued.”
“But it shows on the bones?” Seth asked.
“If you know what you’re looking for,” Ava said. “Or that’s what they said. They’re looking at the older skulls to see if they find a traditional cattle bolt gun. Seems the electric ones haven’t been around forever.”
“I’d forgotten about the patch on the forehead,” Seth said.
“Does that mean something to you?” Ava asked.
“Not sure,” Seth said. “This is good work, though. Thanks. I know it’s terribly monotonous.”
“My husband’s out of town,” Ava said. “What else am I going to do?”
There was a crash in the background, and Ava swore.
“I have to go,” Ava said. “I’ll call you before I go to bed.”
“Do that,” Seth said.
“Love you,” Ava said.
He was going to respond, but she’d hung up. He never got used to her aversion to saying “Goodbye.” She would not do it. She wouldn’t even let him say goodbye. He looked at the phone. Shaking his head, he set it down and picked up the video recorder. He rewound the tape for a few seconds and pressed “play.”