days ago and passed through the Village Post Office on Varick Street in New York. That means they could have been dropped off in any of twenty-one street boxes. It’s the seventh different post-office branch that the sender’s used. So he’s moving around. We’re going over CCTV footage, of course, but as you can imagine, the image volume is overwhelming so I place a low probability of tagging an identifiable suspect making a drop into one or more boxes.”
“What about the addresses?”
“Also the same pattern. About a third of the addresses are stale. The recipient’s moved in the last ten or more years.”
“Suggesting?”
“As you know, we’ve secured the cooperation of Area 51 on this. They think whoever is responsible is working off an old database, about twenty years old.”
“How long has Frank Lim worked there?”
“Twenty-six years.”
“So he could have stolen the database years ago and waited for his moment.”
“I suppose so.”
Parish folded his hands behind his neck. “You don’t sound convinced.”
“I think it’s a stretch. I mean the guy has legitimate access to current data. If he wanted, he could have been committing a few names and addresses to memory every day and writing them down when he got home. Why rely on an old database? Besides, the postcards were sent from New York. We know Lim hasn’t been out of Nevada.”
“The theory goes that he may have a confederate in New York.”
“I know that. I also know I haven’t seen a shred of evidence along those lines.”
“Have we drilled him on that angle?”
“Area 51 Security is in control of him. The watchers haven’t given us access.”
“Who’s watching the watchers, that’s what I want to know,” Parish complained.
Nancy, more than anyone, had no love for them. “Exactly.”
“I’ll work through the White House to get us into position to interview Lim. Meanwhile, I may want you to go to Beijing. I want you to use your charms to pacify the brass at the Ministry of State Security. This thing is about to boil over into a major international crisis and we’ve got to do everything we can to defuse it. The White House thinks that VidCons aren’t cutting it. Only way to show proper respect is to kiss their butts in person.”
She said nothing.
He clearly didn’t like her nonresponse. “What?” he said testily. “Your husband’s okay, isn’t he? You can travel now, right?”
It was the last thing she wanted to do but she kept a game face. “Yes, sir. Not a problem.”
I t was a Saturday morning and Will was determined to arrange some sort of family group activity but beyond that kernel of a thought he had nothing. If they were in Florida he’d have suggested—what else—fishing, but what was it that people did in Virginia? Search for virgins? Nancy poured him a coffee at the breakfast bar, sounding a skeptical note. Phillip wasn’t the family-outing type, she warned. And besides, she’d be amazed if he woke up much before midafternoon.
“We could take a drive,” Will said hopefully.
“Where?” she asked.
“Panama City?”
She padded her slippered feet behind him and kissed his ear. “We’ll ship you back pretty soon.”
“I’m ready, you know.”
“You’re doing great but don’t rush things.”
“If I pass my exercise test at Georgetown, I’m heading south, okay?”
She sighed. She hadn’t told him yet. “Whatever you say, but I’d like you to wait till I’m back.”
“What do you mean, back? Where are you going?”
“Beijing.” She held her breath.
“Jesus, Nancy.”
“Parish wants me to brief the Chinese government personally. I can’t duck it, Will. This thing is becoming a major international thing.”
“That’s nuts. If someone with database access wanted to provoke China they’d send postcards to Chinese cities, not American ones!”
“I don’t disagree. All I can tell you is that isn’t the way the Chinese are seeing it. Anyway, Parish is
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