vague would impress you into quiet contemplation.”
“I’m a little surprised that you’re still trying to impress me.”
Vail couldn’t tell whether the comment was meant to be sarcastic or whether she was offering some sort of truce. “Just because I can be an idiot, that doesn’t mean you’re not worth impressing. Who knows, maybe I could change.”
“If you did, you’d probably bore me to death.”
“Do you know why male moths fly so close to the flame of a candle?” he said mischievously, knowing she would object to any more moth references.
“Oh, so you are trying to bore me to death.”
“The flame gives off a vibrational frequency similar to the female moth’s pheromone. The male moth is powerfully attracted to it, even though it’s extremely dangerous.”
“In other words, even setting yourselves on fire won’t deter you guys.”
“I’m here, driving into who-knows-what, if that answers your question.”
“You want me to tell you what I think? I think you’re bored right now and hoping you’ll drive into exactly ‘who-knows-what.’”
For the next three hours, they traced the route the Russian engineer had taken through Virginia, stopping where he had, according to the Bureau charts. Each time, Kate would get out and take photos of everything in sight, making notes about the corresponding locations. Halfway back, they found a diner and he pulled in.
Inside, they sat in a booth, and after the waitress had taken their orders, Kate asked, “Well, any anomalies?”
“Not yet. But I want to spend some time with everything back at the off-site. Kind of let it all percolate a little.”
“It sounds like you want to be alone.”
“You’re welcome to stick around, but a lot of it is going to be just busywork—printing out photos, matching them with the maps and timelines. I’m not sure you want to spend your evening like that. By morning I’ll have everything a little more organized and we’ll be able to figure out what our next move is.”
“So in the morning there won’t be an article in the paper about you breaking into the Russian embassy or involved in a shooting somewhere?”
“I can’t make any promises about the embassy, but you have my word I’ll never get involved in a shoot-out without you.”
“In that case I’m going to go home, get out a pad of paper and a pencil, and retrace my life as far back as I have to, to try to determine what seemingly innocuous, small turn in my life caused it to intersect with yours.”
“You know, there’s an old Chinese proverb that says if you try to learn the source of your good fortune, you will destroy it.”
“What I know is that if the Chinese actually do believe that, it’s because they’ve never met you.”
THE NEXT MORNING Kate let herself into the off-site and could smell coffee brewing as she started up the stairs. She found that Vail had pushed all the furniture away from the longest wall in the room and had taped up all the photos from the day before. Below them were the time-place maps that had guided their trip.
“Did you get any sleep?” she asked.
“Enough. Did you eat?”
“I just need some coffee.”
“I think it’s done. Grab a cup and let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“Pollock’s bank in Calverton.”
“For?”
“I want to look at his account records.”
“For?”
Vail pointed at the wall. “Remember where we stopped in Denton?”
“I’d have to look at the photos.” She stepped closer to the wall.
“It’s a small intersection. There’s nothing there but that house.”
She looked at the photo of a small, white wood-frame structure pinned to the wall.
“According to the map, Calculus was there for about two and a half hours at night. None of his other stops were anywhere near that long.”
“Wait a minute. How do you know which bank is Pollock’s?”
“It’s in his security-clearance investigation.”
“And how do his bank records tie in?”
“If he visited his bank within twenty-four hours of Calculus’s stop at that house, then I think there’s a good chance that Pollock made an exchange with his handler there and Calculus recorded it. So the next day Pollock would have to deposit the money, unless he keeps it under his mattress.”
“Does that mean we’re going to let the assistant director—or anyone else—in on this?”
“Not yet.”
“Then how are you going to get bank records without some sort of court order?”
“With this.” Vail held up a standard information-release form filled out and signed by Pollock.
“Where did you get that?”
“We did a background investigation on him, didn’t we? And isn’t part of that process for him to sign information releases?”
“How did you get into his file?”
“You let me watch your hands when you logged into the Bureau database yesterday, so I thought you were giving me your password.”
She just shook her head. “But Pollock’s background was almost five years ago. Those forms would be out of date.” She looked closer. “It’s dated a week ago.”
“A little Wite-Out, a copying machine, and everything’s up to date in Kansas City.”
“You’ll have to excuse me if I seem a little slow. I’ve been back here for six months, you know, following the law and stuff. Throws a girl off.”
AN HOUR LATER Vail pulled up to the Denton Savings and Loan. “Since you’re apparently too chicken to violate both the national banking laws and the Privacy Act, you can wait here.” He got out and walked inside.
In another twenty minutes, he came out, and Kate said, “Well?”
“The morning after Calculus’s stop at the little white house, Pollock deposited eighty-nine hundred dollars into his checking account.”
“Eighty-nine hundred is a nice number. It keeps it under ten thousand so the IRS isn’t notified, but not as noticeable as ninety-nine hundred, which is a bigger flag than if he had deposited
