Inside Out

84

Charlotte, North Carolina

Hank hated using the computer instead of the encrypted phone because his typing was so slow, but Chief Marshal Shapiro was understandably wary about telephones now. The e-mail system they were using was routed through personal accounts on Yahoo! Shapiro told Hank it was the safest method there was, because unlike electronic transmissions, the NSA wasn't able to spot-check the millions of personal e-mails for matches.

Hank-Just spoke to W.M.-he's alive and well. Bring S. to Express Aviation Charlotte 1200 hours today-You will be escorting her to New Orleans for a day or two. Full explanation/written orders on plane. Take W.M. the copied set of the pages you faxed to me. Courier me the originals.

Hank was elated Winter was safe. He had made a copy of the pages Lieutenant Commander Reed sent Winter in order to preserve fingerprints on the originals so they could be matched later to a specific copier or printer. He kept an overnight bag in his car so he and Sean could make the noon flight easily. Now he needed to put Lydia at ease.

She answered on the first ring.

“Lydia, your boy is fine,” he told her. “It was like I thought. He got sidetracked and couldn't call.”

“Thank God. I've been going crazy. I can't believe he would act so irresponsibly. Actually I can.” Her tone was sharp. “Where is my son?”

“New Orleans.”

“New Orleans?”

“Lydia, is my wife still there?”

“Yes, she is.”

“Can you ask her to bring me a change of clothes for Winter and his gun rig?” Hank's wife, Millie, had been waiting with her for word on Winter since seven that morning.

“What was he thinking?” she said, her anger rising to the surface. “He had me worried to death. I don't know how much more of this I can take.”

“I'm sure he'll explain everything to you as soon as he can. Lydia, I need those things pronto.”

“I'll collect them.”

Hank's secretary buzzed him.

“I've got to go,” Hank said. He pressed the button, switching lines.

“Sir, Eddie says he's got your bullet.”

Hank strode through the bullpen, down the corridor past the booking room and the holding cell to the door marked EVIDENCE LAB.

Eddie Morgan ran the lab where evidence collected by the deputy marshals was packaged and shipped. He also ran the fingerprint table and the mug shot camera, and maintained their electronic equipment. He was short and overweight, balding, and had nervous, darting eyes. Sean's computer was open, and the technician was studying the electronic guts that he had spread out under a lighted magnifying glass on an adjustable armature.

“Get my bullet?”

Eddie held up a small plastic bag with a mushroomed bullet zip-locked inside it. “Stopped against the battery.”

“Forty-five?”

“Two-hundred-twenty grain, 45-caliber hollow point. The motherboard and the power supply are toast.”

“Ed, I want you to carry the gun and this bullet to the D.C. lab. I want the chain of this evidence unbroken, so you are to personally hand it over to the lab boys.”

“This is worth looking at.” With the eraser of his pencil, Eddie pointed to an object. “This little guy sure isn't a factory part. It was connected to the power supply.”

Eddie stood back to allow Hank to look through the glass. The small apparatus consisted of a gray plastic box the size of a folded matchbook and a disc no larger than a half dollar. There was nothing at all printed on the shell.

“What is it?”

“I've never seen anything like it.”

“Well, box it up, too, and then I want you to get on a plane. If there is no flight immediately, tell Eloise I said she's to lease you a fast one. I'll alert HQ you're on the way.”

“If you say so, Chief.”

“I just did.” Hank patted Eddie on the shoulder.