Simple Genius

“I’d suspected this before, but what you’re saying now makes me think I’m closer to the truth than not. I think that brilliant father gave brilliant but naive daughter information, and he trained her to release that information only under certain circumstances. Viggie played the song for Michelle because she was nice to her and Viggie felt she could trust her. Then Michelle risked her life to save Viggie, so Viggie went a step further and gave her more information.” Horatio looked at her. “It’s curious though that she would give you this after what happened with the truck.”

“Truck, what are you talking about?” Sean asked.

“Viggie and I worked it out,” Michelle said hastily, averting her gaze from Sean’s questioning look. She plunged on. “I doubt I’ll be saving her life again, at least I hope I won’t have to. So what else do I have to do to get her to give up the rest?”

“I don’t know the answer to that.”

Sean mulled this over. “So we’re at a dead end for now, until Joan comes through, or Alicia decrypts that song.” He put the articles away in his pocket, stretched and yawned. “Well, since we’re up early we might as well go eat.”

Michelle checked her watch. “Let’s make it quick. Champ is picking me up at nine for our flight.”

“You’re still going?” Sean said harshly.

“I’m still going.”

“But he doesn’t have an alibi for the time Rivest was killed.”

“I doubt we’re going to get any good information from innocent people.

So it makes far more sense to go after the ones we think might be guilty.”

“My gut tells me to leave this guy alone.”

“Yeah,” Michelle said. “Well, my brain tells me we can’t afford to do that.”

Horatio glanced over at Sean. “Your turn unless you want to concede to the lady.”

“Shut the hell up,” Sean snapped as he climbed in the truck.

Horatio turned to Michelle. “Geez, could the guy be any more obvious?”

“More obvious?” she said, puzzled.

Horatio rolled his eyes, sighed deeply and got in the truck.

CHAPTER 72

HORATIO CALLED SOUTH FREEMAN later that morning for two reasons. First, to see if the man had a list of any of the German POWs held at Camp Peary during World War II.

The man laughed out loud. “Oh, yeah, I got that right here on my desk. Pentagon wouldn’t give it to me so I strolled on over to the CIA and the spooks printed me out a nice clean copy and then asked me what other secret shit I’d like to get my hands on.”

“I’ll take that as a hell no,” Horatio said. Then he asked Freeman whether he knew any people with newspapers in Tennessee around the area where Michelle grew up. On this query Horatio struck gold.

“Man named Toby Rucker runs a weekly in a little place an hour south of Nashville.” When he named the town, Horatio almost jumped out of his chair. It was the very place where Michelle had lived.

“What do you want to know for?” Freeman asked.

“I’ve got some questions about the disappearance of someone down there, say nearly thirty years ago.”

“Well Toby’s been there over forty years, so if it made the paper he’ll know about it.” Freeman gave Horatio the number and added, “I’ll call him right now and tell him you’ll be in contact.”

“I appreciate it, South, I really do.”

“You better. And don’t you forget our deal. Exclusive! Or I strangle you.”

“Right.” Horatio hung up, waited twenty minutes and called the number.

A man identifying himself as Toby Rucker answered on the second ring. South Freeman had just gotten off the phone with him, Rucker said. Horatio relayed his request and Rucker agreed to see what he could find out.

As Horatio clicked off his phone, there was a sound from overhead. He poked his head out the bedroom window. It was a chopper buzzing over Babbage Town. As it sped away Horatio thought about Michelle thousands of feet up in the air with a man Sean King clearly didn’t trust. So clearly in fact that he’d asked a special favor of Horatio that the man had granted.

“Come back in one piece, Michelle,” he muttered under his breath. “We still have a lot to talk about.”

The takeoff had been clean and smooth. The Cessna Grand Caravan was very roomy and luxurious, with a single aisle, seating fourteen counting pilot and co-pilot. It also had every navigation and communication bell and whistle, Champ had assured her.

“You take many people up?”

“I’m a solo kind of guy.” He hastily added, “It’s just that I like to think up here.”

She looked back at all the seats. “Seems like kind of a waste then, all this room.”

“Who knows, if things go really well, I could buy my own jet.”

“You don’t really strike me as all that materialistic.”

He shrugged. “I’m not really. I went into science because I liked figuring out things. But it gets complicated, and I’m not referring to the science.”

He fell silent.

“Come on, Champ, talk to me.”

He stared out the window of the plane. “Quantum computers have enormous potential to do good in the world and bad.”

She said, “I’m sure the guy who invented the atom bomb had the same concerns.”

Champ shuddered. “Can we please change the subject?”