“What about vacations already scheduled?” a woman asked.
“Keep them scheduled,” Lance said, “subject only to the sort of last-minute emergencies I’m sure you’re all accustomed to. Anyone else? No? Well, thank you all
, and I look forward to working with each of you. By the way, as we speak, all stations are being notified of the personnel changes, so there won’t be any surprises in your contacts with those in the field.” Lance ran a finger down his list of names and photographs, looked around the room and settled on an attractive woman in her forties near the back of the room. “Mona Barry? Will you stay a moment, please?”
The others ambled out of the room, and Mona Barry rose and walked forward. “Yes, sir?”
“No ‘sirs’ are necessary; Lance will do,” he said.
“Yes, Lance?”
“I’m told that you are our best photo analyst, Mona.”
“That’s very flattering.”
“I expect you know how good you are.” He turned the laptop so that she could see the screen. “I’ve just received these photos from our station in St. Marks, in the Caribbean.” He pressed a button, and his printer began to work. “I’d like you to give them your closest attention, and at the earliest possible moment.” He also copied them onto a DVD and handed it to her.
Mona picked up the printout, set her reading glasses on her nose and began examining the three photographs. “What do you want to know about them?”
“These are photographs submitted by three men to the government of St. Marks on applications to buy houses on the island. All three are British subjects and the photos appear to be the sort used on British passports.”
“Are they wanted for something? Either by us or by the law somewhere?”
“It’s suspected that one of them may be a fugitive from justice in Britain, and another may be-and this is on a strictly need-to-know basis, Mona-Teddy Fay.”
She looked up at Lance. “So he’s alive?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
“Well, I never worked with Teddy, and since there are no known photos of him on record, the best I can do is clean them up, rid them of facial hair and show them to people who knew Teddy better than I did.”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do,” Lance said, “and as quickly as humanly possible.”
“I’ll call you when I have something,” Mona said, then left the office.
Lance went back to reading operations files.
42
Dino and Genevieve were lunching on the terrace of the beach cottage when the phone rang inside. Dino got up and went to answer it. “Hello?”
“Dino, it’s Thomas; you’re about to have visitors.”
“Who?”
“The local police and a Colonel duBois, who is Croft’s replacement. Be careful in dealing with him.”
“I will,” Dino said. He looked up to see a car stopping outside. “They’re here; thanks, Thomas.” Dino got his and Genevieve’s passports and his NYPD ID from their room and went outside. Genevieve was looking up with big eyes at two uniformed policemen and a civilian. “Gosh,” she said. “Are you the police?”
Dino walked to the table. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said. “May I help you?” He gave them a little smile.
“Yes, indeed, you may,” said the civilian, who was wearing a sharply cut tan suit that set off his cafe-au-lait coloring. “What is your name?”
“I am Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the New York City Police Department,” he said, handing the man his badge wallet.
The man inspected the badge and ID card closely.
“May I know your name?” Dino asked pleasantly.