“Thank you, Prime Minister.” He noted that the commission was for colonel; the PM had been playing with him. “I shall be constantly devoted to following your every command.”

“You’d better be,” the PM said, smiling. “My first command is, find the man who shot Colonel Croft.”

“Yes, sir,” duBois said.”

“And how do you intend to go about it?” the PM asked.

“I have already taken the liberty of canceling all leaves and ordering each man to duty for the duration of the investigation, seven days a week.”

“It had better not take seven days,” the PM said. “What will be your first steps?”

“I shall order the immediate interrogation of every visitor to the island at their respective hotels, so as not to alarm the innocent; when that has been accomplished, I will start on the alien residents.”

“Detach a complement of your men and interview the residents simultaneously with the visitors. Here on my desk is a file on every alien resident, and I wish you to immediately arrest the first six of them and interrogate them at police headquarters. Do not release any of them until you are entirely convinced of their innocence.”

“It shall be done, Prime Minister.”

Sutherland handed duBois the six files. “Are you acquainted with any of these men?”

DuBois quickly leafed through the files. “I know four of them; Colonel Croft dealt personally with Pemberton and Weatherby, the two Englishmen, so I have not met them.”

“Meet them now, and report back to me,” Sutherland said. “Henceforth, you will report only to me, as Colonel Croft did.”

DuBois saluted and left the office.

“Congratulations, Colonel,” Sutherland’s secretary said. She was a tall white woman with beautiful legs and breasts, and he knew that Croft had been fucking her. “Thank you, Hazel,” he said, giving her a little salute. “And I hope that when circumstances permit, you and I might find time to dine together.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she said, exhibiting no grief for the departed Colonel Croft.

DuBois gave her a big smile and exited the PM’s offices. Before leaving Government House he walked down a floor to the offices of the Home Secretary, and in the waiting room he spoke to the male secretary at the desk. “Please tell the home secretary that I wish to meet with him at once.”

The man’s small eyes flicked over duBois’s uniform, noting the eagles on his shoulders. He picked up a phone. “Sir: Colonel Marcel duBois requests an immediate conference. Yes, sir, he is here.” He hung up the phone. “Please go in, Colonel duBois.”

DuBois walked into the home secretary’s office, strode to his desk. “Good afternoon,” he said, placing the files in his hand on the desk. “I require search warrants and arrest warrants for these six men,” he said, “without delay. Please make a note of the names, as I shall be keeping the files.”

“What grounds do you have for these warrants?” the home secretary asked.

“The prime minister’s request,” duBois replied.

“I shall have them delivered to your office in an hour,” the home secretary replied. “Ah…where is your office?”

“Where Colonel Croft’s office once was,” duBois replied. He waited while the home secretary wrote down the names, then took the files and left the office and Government House.

As he reached the bottom of the steps duBois noted with pleasure that his driver was standing next to a new, white Mercedes S500 sedan. His old BMW 3 was not in sight.

“Congratulations, Colonel,” his driver said, opening the rear door for him.

“Thank you, Nigel,” duBois replied. “Take me to my new office.”

“Yes, sir,” Nigel replied. He put the car in gear and sped away.

DuBois ran his fingers over the leather interior and fiddled with the rear-seat controls for the air conditioning and radio. “Nigel?” he said.

“Yes, Colonel?”

“See to the installation of satellite radio as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Colonel. The phone and communications radio have already been installed; the handsets are in the rear armrest.”

DuBois opened the armrest and examined the equipment with satisfaction. “Faster,” he said, then felt the seat press into his back with the acceleration.

41

Holly and Stone sat and waited while Bill Pepper fired up his laptop and waited for it to boot. “Something’s wrong,” he said.

“What?” Holly asked.

“It’s not booting properly,” Bill replied. “Instead, it’s crashing. Let me try again.” He rebooted.

“I don’t like this,” Holly said. “When did they take the laptop?”

“When they arrested me at my office,” Bill said. “Oh, shit, it’s crashed again.”

Annie spoke up. “Use your backup boot disk,” she said. “It’s in your desk drawer.”

Pepper went into his study and came back. “Gone,” he said. “They must have taken it when they searched the house.” He went into the living room and removed a picture from the wall, revealing a small safe with an electronic keypad. He tapped in the code, opened the safe, removed a computer disk and rehung the picture.

“Thank God,” Holly breathed.

Pepper returned to the dining table, inserted the disk and rebooted. “It’s giving me a choice of start-up sources,” he said. “Let’s try the hard disk; if it won’t boot from the hard disk, then it’s going to have to go to Langley for a recapturing of all the files.” He sat and watched the screen. “Seems to be booting,” he said. “I’m in!”

Holly walked around the table and stood behind him. An encryption page appeared on the screen. Pepper went through three stages of typing in long sequences of numbers and letters, then, finally, the desktop appeared.

“Here we go,” Pepper said. “I’ll bring them up side by side.” He hit some more keys. “There,” he said, “Pemberton on the left, Weatherby on the right, Robertson in the middle.”

“Well,” Holly said, “I can tell you that Robertson isn’t Teddy. He’s too young by fifteen years. I don’t think Teddy could fake that.”

Stone came and stood next to Holly. “They look like passport photographs,” he said.

“British-sized passport photos,” Pepper replied. “Does either of the other two look familiar to you, Holly?”

Holly stared at both the photos. Pemberton had a military-style brush mustache, and Weatherby had a Vandyke, with mustache and goatee. “No,” she said, “not immediately. Is that a toupee?” she asked, pointing to Pemberton.

“Possibly,” Pepper replied.

“Definitely,” Stone said. “The hairline is too low for a man his age. But Weatherby’s hair looks real enough.”

“Gray,” Pepper said. “Pemberton’s looks gray, too, but Weatherby’s is whiter.”

“About the same weight,” Holly said, “but Weatherby seems to have had a broken nose at some point.”

“Did Teddy Fay have a broken nose?” Stone asked.

“Not that I can recall,” Holly said.

“You’ve met Teddy?” Pepper asked, surprised.

“Once, possibly twice,” she replied. “Both times disguised.”

“What about their chins?” Pepper asked.

“Hard to say, since Weatherby has a goatee.”

“Eyes?” Stone asked.

“They both have the wrinkles you’d expect in a man in his sixties,” Pepper said. “The ears aren’t dissimilar, but Pemberton’s stick out more.”

“You’re right,” Holly said.

“Look,” Pepper said, “we’re not going to be able to analyze these pictures here; it’s time to forward them to Lance; he’ll have Tech Services on them immediately.”

Holly shrugged. “I was just hoping we’d catch something that would give us a clue about one of them, something that would help make him Teddy. But there isn’t anything.”

“Shall I transfer them?” Bill asked.

“Can you print copies?”

“Sure, and in color.”

“Then shoot them to Lance.” She watched as Bill sent the e-mails, then printed the photos, handed them to Holly and closed the laptop.