Midnight Sun (78 page)

“
I
remember
seeing
it
. G
ive
us
twenty
minutes.
”

Hilde
hung
up.
She
was
at a computer terminal in an empty office near Caufield's
,
looking up data related to Farrah and Kharzai. While she did that
,
Lonnie tried to identify the other two men she had seen at the accident from a list of photos that were tagged as related to either Farrah or Kharzai.  After Tonia's call
,
Hilde rubbed her eyes, tired from the digital strain
,
and turned to Lonnie on the other side of the two
-
desk office space.

“Well
,
you heard that exchange,” Hilde said
.
“You ready for some lunch?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Lonnie
said
. “Starved, and I need a brain break after all these pictures. They're all starting to blend together. Farrah's not so bad, but Kharzai seems to be
on intimate
terms with almost every major terrorist in the past fifteen years.”

The two women logged off the computers and stepped out of the office. They walked toward the the single elevator door just before the stairwell and Lonnie pushed the button.

Continuing the conversation from the office
,
Hilde said, “When I first heard about Kharzai back in Ohio
,
I did some research on him. While there are
n’t
too many files that detail actual facts
, he’s
probably the most effective undercover agent the CIA has in the war on terror.”

“He certainly gets around,” Lonnie
said
. “Some of the people listed as 'connected' to him are faces I see on CNN or Fox
N
ews every night.”

“That's why we were so shocked to see him here,” Hilde said. “Kharzai Ghiassi is no small
-
potatoes spy. He is a major wheel in the war machinery, and not someone you want to lose track of.”

They got out of the elevator and Lonnie excused herself
to go into
to the ladies
’
room. Hilde waited
in
the
downstairs
lobby
as an office assistant went to retrieve
a
government
vehicle
Caufield
had
agreed
to
loan
her.
The
car,
a
newer
model
burgundy
Ford
Taurus
with
Alaska
plates,
pulled
up
to
the
entrance
as
Lonnie
came
out
of
the
ladies
’
room.

“
Perfect
timing,
”
Hilde
said.

“
Yeah,
”
Lonnie
replied
as
she
quick-waddled
toward
the
doors.
“
I
’
m
good
at
that.
But t
he
further
this
pregnancy
goes
,
that
skill
is
being
tested
to
the
limits.
The
baby
seems
to
have
taken
most
of
the
space
previously
reserved
for
my
bladder.
”

They
climbed
into
the
vehicle
and
drove
to
the
Snow
City
Café,
a
quaint
street
-
level
y
uppie
-
style
eatery
at
the
western
edge
of
downtown.
Although
only
a
short
distance
from
the
bluff
that
looked
out
into
Cook
Inlet
and
its
surrounding
mountain
ranges,
the
café
had
a
feel
more
reminiscent
of
a
New
York
deli
,
as
its
view
consisted
entirely
of
the
tall
buildings
that
ringed
about
it.
The
menu
satisfied both
vegetarian
and
carnivore
,
and
the
décor
was
youthful
and
trendy,
a
college
diner
layout
with
a
long
counter
behind
which
jutted
a
soda
dispenser
and
several
beer
taps
labeled
with
the
names
of
local
micro-brews
like
Monk
’
s
Mistress,
Prince
William
White
Ale,
and
Smoked
Bear
Piss
Porter.
Marcus,
a
lager and ale
connoisseur,
would
have
loved
the
beer
selection
,
but
also
would
have
said
the
restaurant
had
a
distinct
tree
hugger
feel
to
it.
The
tattooed
and
pierced
staff
was
friendly
as
they
hustled
between
the
remaining
customers
who lingered
after
the
lunch
rush.
It
was
drawing
near
the
end
of
their
day,
four
p.m.
Snow
City
was
a
breakfast
and
lunch
establishment
that
only
opened
for
dinner
during
special
events
such
as
poetry
readings
or
jazz
concerts,
both
of
which
happened
fairly
frequently
as
evidenced
by
a
collection
of
posters
on
the
bulletin
board
at
the
front
entrance
and
plastered
beneath
the
cash
register.