“Nothing to do but wait, now,” he said.

Lance sat behind his borrowed desk, watching the faces of a group of a dozen men and women, while Hugh English spoke to them.

“I know you’ve all been expecting this at some point, ever since the death of Dick Stone, and now the time has come. A short time ago, the director told both Lance Cabot and me that Lance will be the new DDO, effective immediately. For those who haven’t yet met him, I’m pleased to introduce you all.” He ran through the introductions, while Lance consulted a list of names and photographs on his desk that he had already memorized. When English was done, Lance got up, walked around his desk and sat on its edge.

“I’m very pleased to meet some new people and glad to see again the ones I already know,” he said. “First, I want to thank Hugh English for postponing his retirement and so ably continuing in this office until the director had time to make a new appointment. Though I know Hugh is looking forward to his retirement, we’re going to miss his knowledge and his wisdom, and I hope he has imparted enough of both to you all, so that you can help me find my feet in this new job. It makes it tougher on all of us that we knew and worked with Dick Stone and that we will not have the full benefit of his experience.”

Hugh English stood up. “Excuse me, Lance, but I think my time to exit this stage has come.” He turned to the group. “Thank you all for your hard work over the years, and I hope you’ll give Lance the same level of dedication and loyalty that you have given me.” English shook hands with Lance, and without another word, he left the room.

Lance gave his departure a moment’s silence, then turned back to his audience. He indicated a cart filled with file folders, some of them very thick. “I’ve already begun to read these, and let me say that, so far, I’m very impressed with their completeness and lucidity. In a day or two, I hope to be up to speed on all operations, but I’m sure I’ll have some questions for most of you before that time. Any questions for me?”

A man in the rear of the room raised his hand. “Will you be working out of this office?”

“For the moment, until Hugh has had time to make his move, and a few alterations have been made. My extension number will be the same in both offices, though, so I won’t be hard to find.”

His laptop beside him emitted a small chime. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, turning the instrument so that he could see the screen. He looked back at his office. “Any other questions?”

“What about vacations already scheduled?” a woman asked.

“Keep them scheduled,” Lance said, “subject only to the sort of last-minute emergencies I’m sure you’re all accustomed to. Anyone else? No? Well, thank you all, and I look forward to working with each of you. By the way, as we speak, all stations are being notified of the personnel changes, so there won’t be any surprises in your contacts with those in the field.” Lance ran a finger down his list of names and photographs, looked around the room and settled on an attractive woman in her forties near the back of the room. “Mona Barry? Will you stay a moment, please?”

The others ambled out of the room, and Mona Barry rose and walked forward. “Yes, sir?”

“No ‘sirs’ are necessary; Lance will do,” he said.

“Yes, Lance?”

“I’m told that you are our best photo analyst, Mona.”

“That’s very flattering.”

“I expect you know how good you are.” He turned the laptop so that she could see the screen. “I’ve just received these photos from our station in St. Marks, in the Caribbean.” He pressed a button, and his printer began to work. “I’d like you to give them your closest attention, and at the earliest possible moment.” He also copied them onto a DVD and handed it to her.

Mona picked up the printout, set her reading glasses on her nose and began examining the three photographs. “What do you want to know about them?”

“These are photographs submitted by three men to the government of St. Marks on applications to buy houses on the island. All three are British subjects and the photos appear to be the sort used on British passports.”

“Are they wanted for something? Either by us or by the law somewhere?”

“It’s suspected that one of them may be a fugitive from justice in Britain, and another may be-and this is on a strictly need-to-know basis, Mona-Teddy Fay.”

She looked up at Lance. “So he’s alive?”

“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”

“Well, I never worked with Teddy, and since there are no known photos of him on record, the best I can do is clean them up, rid them of facial hair and show them to people who knew Teddy better than I did.”

“That’s exactly what I want you to do,” Lance said, “and as quickly as humanly possible.”

“I’ll call you when I have something,” Mona said, then left the office.

Lance went back to reading operations files.

42

Dino and Genevieve were lunching on the terrace of the beach cottage when the phone rang inside. Dino got up and went to answer it. “Hello?”

“Dino, it’s Thomas; you’re about to have visitors.”

“Who?”

“The local police and a Colonel duBois, who is Croft’s replacement. Be careful in dealing with him.”

“I will,” Dino said. He looked up to see a car stopping outside. “They’re here; thanks, Thomas.” Dino got his and Genevieve’s passports and his NYPD ID from their room and went outside. Genevieve was looking up with big eyes at two uniformed policemen and a civilian. “Gosh,” she said. “Are you the police?”

Dino walked to the table. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said. “May I help you?” He gave them a little smile.

“Yes, indeed, you may,” said the civilian, who was wearing a sharply cut tan suit that set off his cafe-au-lait coloring. “What is your name?”

“I am Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti, of the New York City Police Department,” he said, handing the man his badge wallet.

The man inspected the badge and ID card closely.

“May I know your name?” Dino asked pleasantly.

The man looked up at him. “I am Colonel Marcel duBois, of the Home Office.”

Dino offered his hand. “How do you do?”

DuBois shook it hastily. “May I see your passports.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course,” Dino replied, handing them over. He waved a hand at the table. “Would you like some lunch or a glass of iced tea? It’s always interesting to meet a colleague.”

DuBois looked at him sharply. “Colleague?”

“We are both police officers, are we not?”

DuBois ignored the question. “What is your business on St. Marks?”

“We are here on vacation.”

“For how long?”

“We had planned to leave tomorrow, but I understand travel has been interrupted because of a murder.”

“What do you know of this murder, Lieutenant Bacchetti?”

“Only that it occurred and that the victim was Colonel Croft. I assume you are his replacement?”

“That is so. What other details do you have of this murder?”

“None whatever, I’m afraid. In my work in New York I have specialized in homicides for many years. If I can be of any assistance, I would be happy to do so.”

“Thank you, that will not be necessary. We have the required skills and experience in our own department.”

“I’m sure you do; I just thought that an outside opinion might be helpful.”

“Opinion of what?”

“Interpretation of the evidence.”

“We do not share evidence of crimes with outsiders.”

“As you wish.”

Now duBois seemed intrigued. “What would you say of this, Lieutenant? Colonel Croft was shot while sitting in the central courtyard of the St. Marks Police Station.”

“From inside the station?”

“From outside.”

“A rifle shot, then.”

“That is our assumption.”