send it, but let me think about it some
more. It might be an interesting test, maybe even good for
marketing. You do have a right to the data?"
"It was on the computer of a Winchell partner. He's
missing, and it might help us find out what happened. A
director in the firm authorized me to have it." While the
statement was literally true, the implication that a director had
given me data from Trevor Jones's office computer was at best
misleading. I felt a twinge of guilt in using Sabine's persona,
even though I expect she would approve. It was also
effective.
"All right then," said Burroughs. "As soon as I get your
stuff, I'll see what PetaGrid can do."
Chapter 9
There was an uncharacteristic tremble in Alexandra's
voice. I couldn't tell if she had been crying. It sounded like she
had. She wouldn't say what was troubling her over the phone,
but she asked me to meet her right away.
It must be important, but so were the flash drive with
the encrypted files and the paper with notations on foreign
exchange derivatives. For reasons best explained by paranoia, I
didn't trust Sabine's computer security enough to send the
data electronically. I can't speak French, so I stopped at a hotel
on my way to the Metro and tipped the concierge to call a
parcel delivery service. The man who showed up to take the
package for Burroughs said it would be in his hands in two
days.
I was able to meet Alexandra an hour after she'd
called.
She was waiting at an upscale café in the Opera
district. Lots of trees, elegant ambience. Perhaps most
important, it was far from Winchell's office. Her expression
was tense. She glanced at me and looked away as I said good
morning and ordered espresso. When she did respond, it was
only one word spoken in a strained voice.
"Trevor."
Bad news.
"There was a call this morning. He..." She pulled at her
scarf and looked me in the face. Not a glance this time, she held
my gaze. "His body I mean...was found."
I'd sensed that was coming, but it didn't soften the
shock at hearing the words.
"In England, well outside London, in a thicket." She
gave a dry cough that almost sounded like an embarrassed
laugh. "His body had been disturbed by animals. That's what
they said. 'Disturbed'." She coughed again.
Translation, he'd been partially eaten, maybe foxes,
maybe crows. That could complicate an investigation. "Do they
know how?"
She shook her head. "It's all I heard."
"How long since his death?"
"A day they said, day and a half, no more than
that."
The news landed like a ramrod to my gut. He'd been
alive when Sabine had told me she believed he was well but
scared. She had trusted I would figure it all out and bring him
home. Not only had I failed. I worried that somehow I might
have been responsible for Sabine's death. This time I was the
one to look away, out the window into a world where mothers
pushed prams and couples held hands. A world where
rationality was at best a veneer concealing chaos.
I wanted to warn Alexandra to be careful, but that
would have sounded obvious at best, inane at worst, so I just
said good-bye. I would be in touch when I found out more
about Trevor's death. Then I went back to Sabine's flat and
called McNulty, the Scottish investigator.
He answered on the first ring. He said he'd been trying
to contact me. The coroner's report was in on Trevor. The
animals that had "disturbed" his body had been identified as
dogs by their bites, probably about the size of shepherds.
McNulty's voice was flat. "Variances in teeth marks
indicated five individual hounds. I don't know how they got the
pictures, but one of the tabloids ran photos of the scene right
after his body was taken out. They haven't picked it up in the
story yet, but there was a spray of blood to the left side of the
body."
"A spray?"
"Yeah. Couple of feet, I'd say. Pretty thick with it. I'll
send you a copy of the photo. Have a look. Tell me what you
think."
I already knew what I thought. The next thing McNulty
said confirmed
more. It might be an interesting test, maybe even good for
marketing. You do have a right to the data?"
"It was on the computer of a Winchell partner. He's
missing, and it might help us find out what happened. A
director in the firm authorized me to have it." While the
statement was literally true, the implication that a director had
given me data from Trevor Jones's office computer was at best
misleading. I felt a twinge of guilt in using Sabine's persona,
even though I expect she would approve. It was also
effective.
"All right then," said Burroughs. "As soon as I get your
stuff, I'll see what PetaGrid can do."
Chapter 9
There was an uncharacteristic tremble in Alexandra's
voice. I couldn't tell if she had been crying. It sounded like she
had. She wouldn't say what was troubling her over the phone,
but she asked me to meet her right away.
It must be important, but so were the flash drive with
the encrypted files and the paper with notations on foreign
exchange derivatives. For reasons best explained by paranoia, I
didn't trust Sabine's computer security enough to send the
data electronically. I can't speak French, so I stopped at a hotel
on my way to the Metro and tipped the concierge to call a
parcel delivery service. The man who showed up to take the
package for Burroughs said it would be in his hands in two
days.
I was able to meet Alexandra an hour after she'd
called.
She was waiting at an upscale café in the Opera
district. Lots of trees, elegant ambience. Perhaps most
important, it was far from Winchell's office. Her expression
was tense. She glanced at me and looked away as I said good
morning and ordered espresso. When she did respond, it was
only one word spoken in a strained voice.
"Trevor."
Bad news.
"There was a call this morning. He..." She pulled at her
scarf and looked me in the face. Not a glance this time, she held
my gaze. "His body I mean...was found."
I'd sensed that was coming, but it didn't soften the
shock at hearing the words.
"In England, well outside London, in a thicket." She
gave a dry cough that almost sounded like an embarrassed
laugh. "His body had been disturbed by animals. That's what
they said. 'Disturbed'." She coughed again.
Translation, he'd been partially eaten, maybe foxes,
maybe crows. That could complicate an investigation. "Do they
know how?"
She shook her head. "It's all I heard."
"How long since his death?"
"A day they said, day and a half, no more than
that."
The news landed like a ramrod to my gut. He'd been
alive when Sabine had told me she believed he was well but
scared. She had trusted I would figure it all out and bring him
home. Not only had I failed. I worried that somehow I might
have been responsible for Sabine's death. This time I was the
one to look away, out the window into a world where mothers
pushed prams and couples held hands. A world where
rationality was at best a veneer concealing chaos.
I wanted to warn Alexandra to be careful, but that
would have sounded obvious at best, inane at worst, so I just
said good-bye. I would be in touch when I found out more
about Trevor's death. Then I went back to Sabine's flat and
called McNulty, the Scottish investigator.
He answered on the first ring. He said he'd been trying
to contact me. The coroner's report was in on Trevor. The
animals that had "disturbed" his body had been identified as
dogs by their bites, probably about the size of shepherds.
McNulty's voice was flat. "Variances in teeth marks
indicated five individual hounds. I don't know how they got the
pictures, but one of the tabloids ran photos of the scene right
after his body was taken out. They haven't picked it up in the
story yet, but there was a spray of blood to the left side of the
body."
"A spray?"
"Yeah. Couple of feet, I'd say. Pretty thick with it. I'll
send you a copy of the photo. Have a look. Tell me what you
think."
I already knew what I thought. The next thing McNulty
said confirmed
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