“Bottom line is, all those islands are protected marine sanctuaries, and unless your friend had a research permit from the NPS, he shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” Eugene said. “Notwithstanding that he broke about ten different federal laws and disturbed a fragile marine ecosystem, we’ll look into it and correct the maps during the next update.”
“So you don’t mind if we continue to look into it as well?” Emerson asked.
Tin Man locked eyes with Emerson. “Suppose I told you we do mind?”
“I would continue to look into it anyway,” Emerson said.
—
Eugene and Tin Man walked through the double doors leading to the private office of the director of the National Park Service. The director, Bart Young, was standing in front of a large window, watching Emerson and Riley leave the building.
“Boys,” Bart Young said, “the National Park Service was formed in 1916, and since that time there have been eighteen directors. And every one of those directors has been responsible for protecting probably this country’s biggest national secret. I am not going to go down in history as the director who failed to keep that secret.”
“I did a fast read through the dossiers on Knight and Moon,” Tin Man said. “Is this their complete history?”
“You were given the short version,” Bart Young said. “They were already in the system. It was easy to pull them up. Not long ago they created an international incident. Knight wanted to see his gold holdings, and things got out of hand.”
“We wouldn’t want things to get out of hand this time,” Tin Man said. “I would be happy to sanction them for you.”
The director looked over at Tin Man. “This is why I personally recruited you from Special Forces to lead the Rough Riders. Bloodlust. It’s a gift, really. Has there ever been anybody you haven’t wanted to kill?”
Tin Man smiled.
“Using this psycho and his army of thugs at this point is like using a cannon to kill a mosquito,” Spiro said. “Knight and Moon don’t know anything. They’re just stumbling around trying to pacify the monk. I think we should wait to see what they do next.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Bart said. “A dead billionaire could draw some unwanted attention, and we don’t need that kind of scrutiny right now. How are you doing with your special project?”
“On time. More or less.”
Bart stared at him. “More or less isn’t acceptable.”
“Understood,” Spiro said. “We’ll be ready on time.”
“Follow Knight and Moon,” the director said to Tin Man. “Get wiretaps on their phones and monitor their Internet access.”
“And if they make trouble?” Tin Man asked.
“Then you do what you do best. You kill them.”
FOUR
Riley and Emerson collected Wayan Bagus in President’s Park. He rose when he saw them, bowed slightly, and followed them to the car. No questions asked.
Riley thought the monk’s heartbeat was probably around ten beats per minute. Her heartbeat was up there at hummingbird level. She was getting sucked into another whackadoodle conspiracy theory obsession that was going to step on all the wrong toes. Last time Emerson went off on a tangent like this, it was a disaster. Okay, so it ended well, but getting to the end was a freaking horror.
The ride back to Mysterioso Manor was quiet, Riley and Emerson thinking their own thoughts, Wayan Bagus watching Beauty and the Beast on his little screen. Riley parked the Maybach in the garage and told Emerson and Wayan Bagus she would see them in the morning. She walked across the circular driveway to her Mini Cooper, and Emerson walked with her.
“Now that you’re once again my amanuensis and we’re involved in another investigation, I feel it would be best if you moved into Mysterioso Manor,” Emerson said.
“For how long?”
“I was thinking permanently.”
Riley stopped breathing for a beat, not sure what he was suggesting.
“Permanently is a long time,” she said.
“Not as long as until the end of time or forever. That would indicate the potential for infinity.”