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He flicked up a business card. "I'm a private investigator," he said. "If I may come in, I'd like to talk with you." She looked at the card. ''I promise to be brief." |
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"Well, I'm very sorry," Jerry said, "but I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news." |
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The woman's face stiffened. "Yes?" |
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"It's about an old colleague of yours, Dr. Stefan Karsky?" Recognition shimmered across her face. "Well, he expired in a drowning accident a few days ago in the Virgin Islands." |
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"Yes. You were colleagues." |
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"Mars." Jerry smiled. "Like the planet." |
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". . . Mars, but I don't know anyone by that name." |
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The woman's left eye twitched ever so slightly. "No, I don't." |
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"How odd," said Jerry. "Then how about the name Black Flag?" |
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"As in Project Black Flag?" |
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The woman's eye twitched again. She started to close the door, but Jerry's foot caught it. |
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"Of course, it's been . . . what, twenty-five years? Maybe you should take some time to remember." He pushed back his sleeve and glared at his watch. |
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"I'm sorry, I don't know what you are talking about," she said. "Would you please remove your foot?" |
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Jerry did not. "I believe it was the code name of a research project you and your colleagues worked on at BiOmega Laboratories." |
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"I was a recent acquaintance of Dr. Karsky," Jerry said. His mouth expanded into a slender grin. "In fact, I was with him when he died." |
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"You're with intelligence." |
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Intelligence. The word dropped like a pebble in a still pond. What do we have here? He had been anonymously hired to kill two retired microbiologists within a few days of each other, but not told why. Nor was he supposed to know why. More professional that way. But |
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