Let Me Call You Sweetheart

45 Wednesday, November 1st

In the laboratory of FBI headquarters in Quantico, four agents watched the computer screen freeze on the profile of the thief who had broken into the Hamilton home in Chevy Chase over the weekend.

He had pulled the stocking mask up so that he could have a better look at a figurine. At first, the image taken by the hidden camera had seemed impossibly blurry, but after some electronic enhancement, a few details of the face were visible. Probably not enough to make a real difference, thought Si Morgan, the senior agent. It’s still pretty difficult to see much more than his nose and the outline of his mouth. Nonetheless, it was all they had, and it might just jog someone’s memory.

“Get a couple of hundred of these run off and see that they’re circulated to the families in every break-in that matches the profile of the Hamilton case. It’s not much, but at least we now have a chance of getting that bastard.”

Morgan’s face turned grim. “And I only hope that when we get him we can match his thumbprint to the one we found the night Congressman Peale’s mother lost her life because she’d canceled her plans to go away for the weekend.”