"The answer will also lead us to the murderer of Loren Smith's father."
"No corpus delicti, no crime," Sandecker said.
"I know what I saw," Pitt said evenly.
"It won't alter present circumstances. The dilemma staring us all in the face is how to get a tag on those lost warheads and do it before someone gets it in his head to play demolition expert."
Suddenly the exhaustion seemed to drop from Pitt. "Something you just said jogged a thought. Give me five days to flush out the warheads. If I turn up nothing, then it's your ball game."
Sandecker smiled tightly at Pitt's sudden show of intensity. "This happens to be my ball game, any way you look at it," he said sharply. "As the senior government official involved in this mess, it became my unwanted responsibility the day you hijacked a NUMA aircraft and underwater camera system."
Pitt stared back across the room but remained discreetly silent.
Sandecker left Pitt stewing for a moment while he rubbed his eyes. Then he said, "All right, against my better judgment I'll take the gam-ble."
"You'll go along, then?"
Sandecker caved in. "You've got five days, Pitt. But heaven help us if you come up empty-handed."
He hit the switch to the holograph and Pitt's image faded and disappeared.
43
It was just before sunset when Maxine Raferty turned from her clothesline and spied Pitt walking up the road. She continued her chore, pinning up the last of her husband's shirts before waving a greeting.
"Mr. Pitt, how nice to see you."
"Mrs. Raferty."
"Loren with you up to the cabin?"
"No, she had to remain in Washington." Pitt looked around the yard. "Is Lee at home?"
"In the house, fixing the kitchen sink." A brisk breeze was sweeping down the mountains from the west and Maxine thought it odd that Pitt was carrying his Windbreaker over his right hand and arm. "Just go on in."
Lee Raferty was sitting at the kitchen table, filing burrs from a length of pl
umbing pipe. He looked up as Pitt entered.
"Mr. Pitt. Hey, sit down; you're just in time. I was about to open a bottle of my private stock of grape squeezin's."
Pitt pulled up a chair. "You make wine as well as beer?"
"Gotta be self-sufficient up here in the high country," Lee said, grinning, and pointing a cigar stub at the pipe. "Take this. Cost me a fortune to get a plumber up here from Leadville. Cheaper to do it myself. Leaky gasket. Any kid could fix it."
Raferty laid the rusty pipe on an old newspaper, rose from the table, and produced two glasses and a ceramic jug from under a cupboard.
"I wanted to talk with you," Pitt said.
"Sure thing." Lee poured the glasses to their brims. "Hey, what do you think about all that commotion up at the lake? I hear tell they found an old airplane. Could it be the one you was askin' about?"
"Yes," Pitt answered, sipping from the wineglass, which he held in his left hand. He was mildly surprised to find the wine quite smooth. "That's part of the reason I'm here. I was hoping you might enlighten me as to why you murdered Charlie Smith."
The only reaction was the slight lift of one gray eyebrow. "Me ... murder old Charlie? What on earth are you talking about?"
"A falling-out of partners who thought they'd discovered a pot of gold deep in a mountain lake."
He stared at Pitt and tilted his head questioningly. "You're talking like a crazy man."