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“Okay, okay. We might have some leads that will get us to the woman we haven’t identified. The NSA is analyzing the phone calls of all the people whose names we know, looking for a woman they’ve all called and who suddenly stopped using her phone, and who might have been involved in Gaia stuff. They tell me they’ve got a candidate and they’re looking for photographs.”
“Need them as soon as you can get them,” Lucas said. “We’ve got a store video, but Foss and the woman he was with apparently split up before Foss walked into the store. From the commotion after the shooting, she probably knows he’s dead. The couple who spottedthem in the street said they were holding hands, so…If you can get me a face, I might be able to confirm it, if she came into the store before or after he did.”
“I’ll push it. Our sniper is on the ground on her way to Santa Fe, she should be hooking up with Letty any time now.”
“Have Letty send her up here tomorrow morning. I don’t think much more is going to happen tonight, though the cops will keep the pressure on.”
—
Letty and Hawkinshad just gotten out of the shower at the Holiday Inn when someone began banging on the door. Hawkins looked out the peephole and saw a magnified turquoise eye looking back at him. The owner of the eye stepped back and resolved into a tough-looking young woman who said, loud enough to be heard through the door, “Open up.”
Letty: “That’s Barbara.”
Hawkins, buck-ass naked, cracked the door, still on the chain, peered out and said, “We’re indisposed.”
Cartwright: “How indisposed?”
“Somewhat. I’m without any clothing whatsoever.”
“Sounds interesting, but not compelling. Anyway, I’m going down to an IHOP.”
“What’s an IHOP?”
“Pancakes.”
From the bed, Letty called, “Barb: we’ll come with you. We’re starving. Go brush your teeth or something. Comb your hair. Clip your fingernails.”
“I’ll wait. Impatiently. Knock on my door. I’m in 212.”
—
Their hair wasstill damp ten minutes later when Letty and Hawkins knocked on Cartwright’s door. When Cartwright answered, she had a wicked-looking rifle in her hands. She turned back to the bed and gently placed it in a hard-sided rifle case. “Making sure it hadn’t got bumped,” she said. And, looking at Hawkins, “Who’s the guy?”
Letty introduced Hawkins, explained the MI5 connection.
“Sounds like you guys weren’t letting any grass grow under your feet, relationship-wise,” Cartwright said.
Letty: “Should I mention your LA courtship?”
“Not entirely necessary,” Cartwright said. And to Hawkins, “Does everybody call you ‘the Hawk?’ ”
“Actually, nobody does, but I like it,” Hawkins said. And he repeated the words a few times, as if tasting them. “Hi, I’m…the Hawk. Hello, Hawk here.”
“Shut up, Hawk,” Letty said, as they walked down to the elevators. “This has been a day.”
Cartwright: “Yeah? Shoot anyone?”
Letty gave her a quick “Don’t go there” headshake and said, “Uh, Alec did. He’s having a little trouble with it.”
“Perhaps more than a little,” Hawkins said.
“Well, man, I’m sorry,” Cartwright said. “What were the choices?”
“None,” Letty said. “You know the story so far?”
“Your Billy Greet caught me up on most of it,” Cartwright said. “She didn’t mention that Alec was the shooter this afternoon.”
“It was a woman, and she was unarmed, middle-aged, and very close,” Hawkins said. “I shot her with an M4. In the heart.”
