Mortal Fear

“This is David Charles. Do you remember me?”

“No.”

“You talked to me a couple of times on the phone. I’m one of the techs at EROS.”

My eyes click open. “Yeah, I remember you.”

“No, you don’t. That’s okay. I’m one of Miles’s assistants.”

“What can I do for you … David?”

“I’m not sure. I just thought I’d better talk to you. You know the FBI is up here, right?”

“Yes. Trying to do phone traces?”

“Yeah. The atmosphere is really tense. They’ve got agents guarding the file vault, and Miles is acting really weird. He’s pretty paranoid about the government.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well … the thing is … your access to the accounting database was cut off, right?”

“Yes. Jan Krislov ordered that, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are. Miles did it. I mean, he told me to do it.”

I feel a strange giddiness. “What are you trying to tell me, David?”

“Well, I just thought you should know. About two hours ago, I realized that another blind-draft account had been terminated for insufficient funds. It happened this morning. It belonged to a woman—”

I feel my mouth go dry.

“—named Rosalind May. She’s from Mill Creek, Michigan. At first I didn’t think anything about it. But then I realized she was on a list I saw in Miles’s office.”

Shit.

“It was a list of blind-draft women who haven’t been logging on but are still paying their fees. There are about fifty of them. Anyway, I decided to check and see whether May had logged on at all in the last few months. She seemed to lose interest about three months ago. But then I saw that she’d logged on every night for five nights, starting last week. She dropped off again two nights ago. And then today her secret account was overdrawn. Like she needed to make a deposit but wasn’t around to do it. You know?”

Yes, I know—

“And the thing is … Miles hasn’t told the FBI yet.”

“Jesus.”

“And since he hasn’t told them,” Charles says hesitantly, “I don’t feel too good about walking up to these suits and volunteering the information. You know? I figured since you first reported the murders, you might know how to handle it.”

The weight of this information is too great to absorb quickly.

“Harper?”

“You were right to call me, David. I’ll take care of it.”

“You will? Wow. Okay, man.” The relief in the tech’s voice is palpable. “Look, I gotta go. Miles is all over the office right now. I don’t think he’s been to sleep in like fifty hours.”

“Try to get him to rest,” I say uselessly.

“Yeah, okay. I will. And, uh … try to keep me out of this, okay?”

He hangs up.

I switch on my halogen desk lamp and dig through my wallet for Daniel Baxter’s card. I dial the number before I have time to second-guess myself.

“Investigative Support Unit, Quantico,” says a crisp female voice.

“I need to speak to Daniel Baxter immediately.”

“Your name?”

“Harper Cole. It’s about the EROS case.”

“Hold, please.”

A Muzak confection of old Carpenters tunes assaults my ears for nearly two minutes before Baxter comes on the line. An out-of-tune violin is still ringing in my head when he says, “Cole? What you got?”

“It’s five A.M.,” I say, looking at my desk clock. “You work all night?”

“It’s six A.M. here. What you got? I’m pretty busy.”

“You’re about to be a lot busier.”

Baxter catches his breath. “Spit it out, son.”

“I just learned that another blind-draft account went to zero. It was terminated today. It belonged to a woman.”

“Jesus Christ. Not this soon. You got a name?”

“Rosalind May. Mill Creek, Michigan.”

“Rosalind like in Shakespeare, or Rosalynn like Rosalynn Carter?”

“I don’t know.”

“How’d you find out about it?”

I remember David Charles’s plea for protection. “Worry about that later. Can’t you just check the name?”

“I’ll do it right now. Anything else I should know?”

“No. As soon as you find out anything, please give me a call. I mean immediately. You owe me that much.”