Pied Piper

CHAPTER 42

The FBI’s Washington State Field Office, located in Seattle’s new Federal Building, smelled of perfumed disinfectant that Daphne Matthews associated with a doctor’s waiting room. She was repulsed by the smell because it reminded her of a particular car deodorizer that came in the shape of a small green pine tree and hung from the rearview mirror or inside the trunk, the smell of which was seared into her memory where it would remain forever. Just the smell of it made her want to run. She was supposed to trick an FBI agent into supplying information the Bureau had yet to release to SPD. No small task. The intervention had gone well. Boldt-and Sarah with him-was now supported by a team of competent and fiercely loyal individuals bent on the girl’s rescue.

As Flemming’s Intelligence officer, Kay Kalidja had unrestricted access to Bureau resources, making her an invaluable ally. By not making an appointment, Daphne denied Kalidja any preparation for her visit. She was kept waiting for ten minutes in a small reception area. Behind the receptionist hung a photo of the president, another of the FBI chief and a third of WSFO’s special agent in charge. Kalidja appeared at the secured door and greeted Daphne, apologizing for keeping her waiting. Daphne followed her inside. “The digs here aren’t much for those of us from out-of-town. I’m sharing an office with two others.”

She showed Daphne into the cramped and cluttered office and closed the door. “They resent us, of course-the local agents. They don’t want Washington coming in and dictating procedure. On the surface, it’s business as usual, but the resentment is there. Have a seat, if you can find one.” The office walls held bookshelves crowded with loose-leaf binders bearing the FBI logo.

They faced each other from opposite sides of the desk.

Daphne lied for the sake of her efforts. “They assign me all the no-brainers, assignments they wouldn’t dare ask a male officer to do.”

“Same thing here, I promise,” Kalidja said, sympathetically.

“They assume we’re incapable of using our brains,” Daphne said, hoping to strike a common chord.

“And it’s not our brains they’re thinking about,” Kalidja said. She laughed. Her neck was long and elegant. She might have made it as a model had she tried.

Daphne met eyes with the woman and said, “Have you ever noticed how quickly your ideas become someone else’s? Suddenly all the credit is going down the table?”

Special Agent Kay Kalidja did not break the eye contact, understanding perfectly well that Daphne had come for a favor. Daphne placed Thompson’s rendition of the tattoo in front of Kalidja and let it sit there. She said, “VICAP and your other databases keep track of body markings, don’t they?”

Kalidja fingered the photocopy.

“Left forearm,” Daphne said.

“His?” Kalidja nearly shouted. “The Pied Piper’s?”

Daphne nodded. “If it pans out, we unveil it at a four o’clock, the two of us. With two of us, one SPD, one FBI, they can’t take it away from us. Everyone’s talking up joint cooperation, but doing little if anything to make it happen.” She paused. “What do you think?”

“You mean keep it from our own people?” Kalidja was clearly afraid of the idea. Flemming ran a tight ship. “Where did you get this?”

“We keep it between us until we know if we’re going to look like fools or geniuses.” Daphne broke into a sweat.

A smile slowly crept onto Kalidja’s face, illuminating her features and lending her an attractive innocence, younger and less formal. “I could have something this afternoon. Tomorrow at the latest,” Kalidja said, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Daphne settled back in the chair and relaxed. She had her right where she wanted her.