Kitty Goes to Washington (Kitty Norville 2)

“So sue a guy for trying to make an easy buck,” he said.

Ben asked, “Could we? Sue, I mean. Is there a breach of contract?”

“No,” Cormac said, shaking his head. “I took a kill fee.”

Ben hesitated, then said, “Kill fee. That’s funny.”

“No, it’s not,” I said, interrupting. “That’s not funny at all.”

Too bad they were both grinning. I gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Come on,” Ben said. “We’d better get you out of here.”

Flemming left just ahead of us. He’d tucked his briefcase under his arm, ducked his head, and strode out of the room like he was late for something. His gaze flickered over us as he passed; we were all staring at him.

“Who’s that guy?” Cormac nodded after him.

“Dr. Paul Flemming,” I said. “He heads the Center for the Study of Paranatural Biology. The committee spent the first two days grilling him.”

“He a straight shooter?”

“Not in the least. I went to his office this morning and found him shredding a stack of documents. Just try to get a clear answer from him.”

“Used to working under the radar. Going crazy now with the spotlight on him. He looks the type.” Ben nodded in agreement.

I said, “What I want to know is: what’s he hiding?”

Cormac pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You really want to know? We could find out.”

“How? I’ve tried talking to him. I even had him on the show.”

Ben said, “I’ve pulled everything on him I could—military record, academic record. He’s got this scientific veneer over everything he does. Talks a lot, uses big words, doesn’t say anything.”

“We could break into his office.”

I hushed Cormac. “Are you out of your mind?” He was talking like this in a government building. I looked around, but no one seemed to have heard.

“You know I can do it,” he said. “Especially since it looks like I’m not busy for the next couple days after all.”

He could do it. I didn’t know where he learned how to do things like breaking into radio stations and government buildings, but he could do it.

Cormac could probably learn more in a couple of hours of breaking-and-entering than I had in months of wheedling. He grinned, because my hesitation was all the confirmation he needed to go ahead with the plan.

“Officially, I’m not hearing any of this,” Ben said. “Unofficially, be sure to wear gloves.”

Cormac huffed. “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

“I’m only saying.” Ben squeezed past us to the door. “You kids have fun.”

Cormac turned to me. “Where’s this guy’s office?”

“Bethesda. At the Magnuson Clinical Center, in the basement.”

“Show up there at about four. Go inside the building, I’ll be watching for you.”

“Four—in the morning?” I said.

“Four this afternoon,” Cormac said.