Mortal Fear (22 page)

Not among those present, I say, and push the chair away from the Toshiba. Look, I really need to call my wife. It wont take more than a couple of minutes.

Well, get me started at something, Lenz says.

I wave him out of his chair and mouse him into a lobby room with about ten people in it. Just read what comes up on your screen. Get a feel for the conversational style. If somebody asks you anything, ignore them. Ill be back in no time.

Use my cellular, he advises. Its secure. Punch seven-seven-seven-six before you dial your home number. And dont put a one in front of the area code. And dont take too long. I want you right here when I get a nibble.

A
nibble
. I almost laugh as I step into the hall with the cellular. The guy thinks hes fishing. And maybe he is. I punch in the FBI code, then the familiar six-zero-one that encompasses all of Mississippi. Drewe answers after two rings.

Harper?

Yes.

Thank God.

Are you okay?

I was worried. Are you calling from a plane?

No. Im still in Washington. Virginia, really.

You sound like youre in a plane.

Its too complicated to explain. But I should be home before morning. Any more police harassment?

No. Whatever youre doing, its working. I did get one call, though. From that New Orleans detective.

Mayeux?

Yes. Hes worried about you. He said he didnt know where you were, but he had a feeling you were with the FBI. He told me to warn you not to trust them, Harper. He
said the FBI will use you while they need you, then throw you to the dogs.

I hear a muffled Cole? from inside Lenzs room. Ive got to go, Drewe. Tell your dad everythings under control. I know hes worried about all this.

Not right now hes not. All he can think about right now is Erin.

My heart stutters. Erin? Whys that?

She and Patrick are having problems again. When I got home tonight she was sitting on our steps with Holly. She drove over from Jackson because she didnt want to be there when Patrick got home. We drank coffee and played with Holly for hours. Then she went to Mom and Dads to spend the night.

Jesus
. Did she tell you what was wrong?

She wouldnt be specific, but its serious. Patrick called four times, and he sounded angrier every time.

Is Holly okay?

She senses the tension, but I think Erin and Patrick know enough not to fight in front of her.

I wonder. The likely source of Patricks tension could turn any man violent.

Dont worry about that stuff, Drewe says buoyantly. Just take care of the police problem and get back here. I love you, you know.

I love you too. A brief silence. Bye.

Bye.

I shut off Lenzs cell phone and lean against the wall, my right cheek flush against the cool sheetrock.
She was sitting on the porch steps with Holly
...
wouldnt be specific
...
he sounded angrier every time

Mr. Cole? You okay?

Special Agent Margie Ressler is standing before me with a tray piled with sliced pizza, paper towels, a glass of ice, and a Diet Coke. She looks like a waitress in a college town, where restaurants are blessed with a pool of potential employees overqualified in every department.

You look like youre in a daze, she says.

Im fine.

When was the last time you ate?

Its been awhile.

Here. She holds a slice of pizza within biting distance. Something about Agent Ressler encourages informality, so I lean forward and take a bite. The spicy cheese is a moist explosion in my mouth.

Mmmm. Better than crawfish touffe.

She grimaces. Id think anything was better than that.

Ever had it?

No.

Then you dont know what youre slandering.

She laughs lightly. You dont look like most computer jocks I know.

Thats because Im not one. Ive got a knack for applications, but thats it. I guess its sort of like driving a car. Im a good driver, but I couldnt rebuild an engine if my life depended on it.

Ill bet you can change the oil, though.

Are we flirting, Agent Ressler?

She grins. I guess we are. Call me Margie. I think Im flirting because I know I might be trapped here for a long time.

It seems like dangerous duty.

Decoy work?

Yes. I guess youve done it a lot, though.

No. This is my first time. Ive only been out of the academy a couple of years.

Cole,
Lenz calls, his voice like a hand on my sleeve. Are you out there?

Margie laughs. He sounds mad. She drops her voice. I wouldnt want that bird mad at me. Hes a strange one.

He grows on you. I smile and slip the cell phone into my pants pocket. Ill take the tray, Margie. You be careful.

No sweat, she says with a toss of her hair. Then she turns and trots back down the stairs.

At the bedroom door I pause. Id intended to make one other call while out here. Eleanor Rigby. Miles interrupted my first attempt to warn her off EROS, and I havent managed to do it since. The hard bulge of the cell phone in my pocket offers a chance, but instinct tells me that any number I call on the secure FBI phone could
later be identified and traced to a name. Ill have to find another way.

This is fascinating, Lenz says as I enter the room. These conversations are a free-for-all.

You mean threads, I correct him, setting down the tray.

Threads?

Thats the on-line term for conversation, on EROS anyway. On other services chat is the correct term, but on EROS thread covers pretty much any conversation. In special interest forums, a thread is where a few people get on one subject and everyone puts in their two cents worth. Like Coping with AIDS in the gay forum. Any time of day or night, clients can read whats already been said and post a reply if they want.

I sit down in the swivel chair and begin munching on the pizza. Lets scan the forum headings, just to give you an idea of whats out there.

I click the mouse on GENERAL INTEREST FORUMS, and the thread headings appear in a column window:

Paglia? says Lenz. Camille Paglia is on EROS?

I cant tell you that. But clicking on that heading will lead you to a discussion of her works. There are over a hundred headings, but you get the idea.

Im reaching for my mouse when Lenz stops my hand and says, Id like to see them all.

I can almost see his eyes focus on the more provocative selections. My eyes gravitate to those I know as the more popular or strange.

Many of these are medical terms, Lenz observes.

Drewe had to bring home a DSM-III-R manual just so I could figure out what some of them meant. Now I name a lot of the threads myself.

Are there many physicians on EROS?

A fair number.

How many?

Over a hundred.

Lenz seems to be thinking. Are these headings permanent?

Some are, but the idea of EROS is to be dynamic, to respond as various needs arise. For example, ISLAND OF LESBOS is constant, but many of its subcategories change every day. It covers all kinds of lesbian behavior and interests.

Lets look.

I click the mouse on LESBOS and watch the new window open, revealing another column of thread titles.

Whats Penetrating Discussion?

Some lesbians are into penetration, others arent. They discuss various objects to use for it. Whats better, natural versus artificial, like that. I figured you knew all about this stuff.

I have some lesbian patients who use vegetables for stimulation. I sometimes think about it when I walk through the produce section of a grocery.

Thats garden-variety stuff, pardon the pun. You know what shocked me? They talk about size a lot. One woman said most vegetables were too large for her. She said the perfect thing to use was an Oscar Mayer wiener. Dont laughits true. I said, Isnt that too soft for the job? And you know what she said? Not if you freeze it. If you
freeze
it!

Lenz beams with the pleasure of a man who is rarely shocked. But how does she stand the temperature? That could damage her tissues.

Thats exactly what I said. She told me that when shes ready, she just takes one out of the freezer and runs it under hot water for about sixty seconds. Then its perfect. I shake my head. Im telling you, anything you can possibly think of, its already been done and posted on EROS.

What about these graphics files?

Thats Miless project. Jan Krislov originally wanted EROS to be purely text-based. She saw that as another
way to keep the level of discussion high. But the demand for graphics has become so great, and the technology so much better, that shes had to give in. The whole thing is Miless baby, of course.

While Lenz nods thoughtfully, I click out of the forum and into the live-chat area. I guess wed better start checking room by room for prose that sounds like our man.

Lenz takes something from a drawer. Im going to tape our session, he says, pressing a button on a small Olympus recorder. That way I wont have to make notes of any instructions you give me. Itll save

The psychiatrist jumps as one of the phones on the desk rings. He looks to see which number it is, then answers. While he turns away and speaks too low for me to hear, I punch up the EROS e-mail window on the Toshiba and compose a quick message to Eleanor Rigby:
Please DO NOT log onto EROS again until you hear from me. Strange things happening. Will send further mail via Internet. HARPER
. Before sending the message, I disable the Auto-File function so that no record of this note will be saved to Lenzs hard drive. Then I click the mouse on SEND NOW. MESSAGE MAILED flashes just as Lenz hangs up the phone.

That was Daniel Baxter, he says, his voice brimming with excitement.

What is it?

Strobekker just contacted the Bureau.

What?

He sent a message to Daniels personal e-mail address at Quantico. Could that be possible?

Sure, if the Quantico computers are connected to the Internet.

Some are. But the Units computers are supposed to be sealed off from the outside. This message came across the internal e-mail system, the same way a secret case memo would. The Quantico technicians say they cant locate the source of the message. Daniel is rattled. Hes faxing us a copy now.

The fax machine rings on cue, and we both stare at the
slowly emerging page. When Lenz is sure no more is to come, he tears off the curled sheet and lays it on the desk. It reads:

Ive never seen anything like this, Lenz says. Notice the use of the pronoun we? Often thats a ploy, but in this case it fits with the evidence indicating a team offender situation.