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his curiosity was beginning to swell. Two scientists linked by some secret government project way in the past. And now, intelligence. One word, and new possibilities. Maybe he'd play along, ride out the ripples. See where they took him. |
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"Intelligence? In a manner of speaking. As I said, I'm a private investigator." |
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"That's the private part." |
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"I'd like you to tell me all you know about Project Black Flag." |
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He had hit a nerve. She glanced behind him to see if he had brought company. The rented van was pulled alongside the house out of sight. "Just me." He smiled. |
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She studied his face, his sincere gray sport coat and Ralph Lauren shirt with the collar up, probably wondering who he wasCIA, FBI, DIA, none of the above. "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong person." She pushed the door against his foot, but it did not budge. |
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"Maybe this will help your memory." From his briefcase he pulled out a folder containing the eight-by-ten photograph. "BiOmega," he said, laying his strange index finger on the sign just over his shoulder. ''Catchy name. I especially like how the O in Bio is spelled with the Greek letter omega." He slid his finger to the figure of the woman with Karsky's arm on her shoulder. "Now, if you ask me, this is you, Dr. Terranova," he said, as if selecting wallpaper. |
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"And you know what it is?" he continued. "The eyes. Everything else can go on a person, but not the eyes." he grinned. "They're a dead giveaway." |
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"Why is his face crossed out?" |
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"He's dead, as I believe I mentioned." |
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She pushed hard against the door, but he shouldered his way inside. |
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"If you don't leave immediately, I'll call the police." |
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He closed the door and snapped the latch. "No, you won't." As he lowered the briefcase, the woman pulled a walking stick out of a large porcelain vase beside the door. Jerry caught it and twisted it out of her grip. The heft of the brassy knobbed end could have |
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