Orchid Blues (Holly Barker 2)

Everybody gathered around the computer screen. Faces were materializing, some clear, others still filling in. Most of them were front and profile shots of people holding numbers under their chins.

"Same general types," Eddie said.

Ham pointed at a photograph. "Isn't that a woman?" he asked.

"Yes, but she answers the description," Eddie replied, "and she turned up, even though I specified male."

More pictures became clear, and Eddie slowly scrolled through them, more than two hundred. Then he stopped at the last frame.

"What does that mean?" Ham asked. The frame was empty and had the word "restricted" stamped across it.

"That means it's a face somebody doesn't want us to see," Eddie replied. "Could be someone in the witness protection program."

"John said he was retired, like me, and I asked him if it was from the military. He said not exactly. Could the restriction be because the guy worked for one of the civilian intelligence agencies?"

"Maybe. If so, his records would be in another database, one we don't have ready access to. The people in this one are people who have been arrested, done time or, at least, are suspected of a crime."

Eddie turned to Harry. "There's a file number here, Harry. You know somebody who might give us access?"

Harry was staring at the blank rectangle and rubbing his chin. "All I can do is try," he replied.

34

Holly played hostess and cleared the dishes away from the coffee table, and the empty cartons that had once held Chinese food. Doug put on a pot of coffee, and they waited for Harry, who was on the phone in the den. Finally, he came back.

"Here," he said, handing the computer-generated picture of John to Eddie. "E-mail this to the address at the bottom of the page."

Eddie did as he was asked, then came back. "What now?"

"We wait," Harry said.

"Are we going to get access to the file?" Holly asked.

"Not exactly," Harry said.

"What does that mean?" Ham asked.

"It means we're not going to be able to penetrate the restriction on this photograph and download this guy's file. I'm not sure that even a court order would produce it."

"Then what are we waiting to hear?" Holly asked.

"I know a guy who agreed to look at the picture," Harry said. "He can probably get a look at the file, and if he's had enough to drink, he might tell us some of what's in it. I got him at home, and he'd already had at least one Scotch."

"And who is this guy?" Ham asked.

Harry wagged a finger. "Don't ask."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Harry," Holly said, "I'm beginning to get the impression that nobody in the federal law enforcement community talks to anybody else outside his own agency."

"This guy's not in the law enforcement community; you might say he's quietly in the law-breaking community, in his way. But you're right: the level of interagency cooperation only tends to rise when somebody can recognize some self-interest in a situation. If this guy helps us, then I'll have to help him sometime, ignore a regulation or two, and I probably won't like doing it."

They fell silent for a while, watching the flames from the driftwood fire. Nobody seemed to want to add another log.

"What's your best guess on this John guy, Harry?" Holly asked.