I chuckled politely and informed him, "I used to be NYPD, Homicide. I'm here to teach basic law enforcement."

He laughed. "Okay. If we find him, we'll ask him to call you. That's all I can do if he's not a suspect in anything."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd escort him to your location. He's in some danger."

"Yeah? What kind of danger? Now we're talking danger."

"I'm talking national security, and that's all I can say at this time."

"Oh, now you're a Fed again."

"No, I'm a cop in a bind. I need this, and I can't say why."

"Okay. We'll put his picture on a milk carton. You have a photo?"

I took a deep breath and said, "It's not much of a photo, and it's very old, and I don't want posters in his old neighborhood either. We're trying to catch the guy who's trying to find him, not scare the guy off. Okay? By the way, I called the L.A. FBI office, an Agent Sturgis, and they're working on this, too. Whoever finds him first gets a gold medal."

"Wow. Why didn't you say so? We'll get right on it."

Cops can be pains in the ass. "But seriously, Lieutenant."

"Okay. I'll work this one and give you a call."

"Thanks." I gave him my and Kate's phone numbers.

"How's the weather in New York?"

"Snow and ice."

"Figures." He hung up.

Kate looked up from her computer and said to me, "You didn't have to be so secretive with our people, or with the LAPD."

"I wasn't secretive."

"Yes, you were."

"Well, it's not important that they know why, it's only important that they know who. Chip Wiggins is missing and needs to be found. That's all they need to know."

"They'd be more motivated if they knew why."

She was right, of course, but I was trying to think like a cop and act like a Fed, and all this national security crap was getting to me.

Kate went back to her computer and said, "I'm not finding anything in any of the Burbank or L.A. area directories."

"Tell the computer why you need to know."

"Fuck off, John." She added, "I am your boss. You'll keep me informed and listen to me."

Wow! I replied, in my I'm-outta-here tone, "If you don't like the way I'm handling this case, and you're not happy with my results so far-"

"Okay. Sorry. I'm just a little tense and tired. I was up all night." She smiled at me and winked.

I sort of smiled back. Ms. Mayfield had a tough side, too, and I'd be well advised to remember that. I said to her, "Sturgis says to say hello."

She didn't reply, but continued banging away at her computer and said, "This guy could have moved to Nome, Alaska, for all we know. I wish I had his Social Security number. Check your e-mail to see if we have any message from DoD or the Air Force regarding the personnel files of those eight guys."

"Yes, ma'am."

I punched up my e-mail, but aside from a lot of interoffice stuff, there was nothing there. I said to Kate, "Now that we have some names, we can specifically ask the Air Force for the Wiggins file."

"Right. I'll do that." She got on the phone, and I heard her making her way through some bureaucracy or another.

I said to no one in particular, "I hope Asad Khalil is having as much trouble finding Wiggins as we are." I got into my computer and tried a few avenues on the Information Highway, including the Air Force Web site. There was an MIA and a KIA section, and incredibly I found Steven Cox, killed in the Gulf War. But there was no section called "Guys on Secret Missions."

Kate put down her phone and announced, "It may take a while to get Wiggins' file. The Chip thing threw them. They want his service number or Social Security number. That's what we want."

"Right." I played with my computer, but aside from a good recipe for chocolate chip cookies, I wasn't getting much. I really prefer the telephone.

Kate kept bugging me to call the Counterterrorism office in D.C., and I kept putting it off because I knew it would be an hour conversation, followed by me on the shuttle to Washington. And in truth, with only one target still standing for Khalil, it was more important that I find Wiggins before Khalil did.

There are lots of ways to find a missing Joe Citizen in America-land of record-keeping, credit cards, driver's licenses, and all that. I've found people in less than an hour, though sometimes it can take a day or two. But sometimes you never find a person, even if that person was once Mr. Happy Homeowner with a wife and kids.

All I had on this guy was a nickname, a last name, a last known address, and the fact that he'd served in the Air Force.

I called the California Department of Motor Vehicles, and an unusually helpful civil servant gave me the name of an Elwood Wiggins in Burbank with the same last known address plus the date of birth. Voild! Now I had a name, and a DoB that fit. I was getting a picture of this guy Chip, and I pictured a jerk-off who was totally irresponsible about keeping the world informed as to his whereabouts. On the other hand, that might be keeping him alive.

I said to Kate, "Try Elwood from now on. That's on his driver's license." I added, "DoB for Elwood is right for Chip-nineteen sixty. Not a son, not a father."

"Okay." She banged away at her computer, scanning telephone directories.

I called the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office to see if a Mr. Elwood "Chip" Wiggins had done me the favor of dying naturally. A clerk there informed me that a number of Wigginses had passed on in the last year, but not Elwood.

I said to Kate, "Coroner's office doesn't have a record of him."

She said, "You know, he could be out of L.A. County, out of the state, and out of the country. Try the Social Security Administration."

"I'd rather look for him on foot." I added, "Anyway, they'll want his Social Security number."

"Try the Veterans Administration, John."

"You try. But I'll tell you, this character probably doesn't keep anyone informed. I wish we had a hometown for him. Notify Air Force Personnel that we have the name Elwood, and date of birth. That may help their computer."

So, we worked the phones and computers for the next half hour. I called LAPD Missing Persons again and gave them Elwood and the date of birth, and did the same with my colleagues at the FBI L.A. office. But I was running out of clueless people to call. Finally, I had a thought and called Mrs. Rose Hambrecht.

She answered the telephone, and I re-introduced myself.

She informed me, "I've given all the information I had to a General Anderson from Wright-Patterson." i

"Yes, ma'am. I don't have that information yet. But I have other information about the eight men on that Al Azziziyah mission, and I wanted to confirm some of it with you."

"Don't you people work in concert?"

No. "Yes, ma'am, but it takes a while, and I'm trying to do my job as quickly-"

"What do you want?"

"Well, I'm focusing on one person, a man named Chip Wiggins."

"Oh, Chip. He's a real character."

"Yes, ma'am. Would you know if his first name is Elwood?"

"I never knew his real first name. Only Chip."

"Okay, I have a Burbank, California, address for him." I read her the address and asked, "Is that what you have?"

"Let me get my phone book."

I held on while Mrs. Hambrecht went to find her phone book. I said to Kate, "How're we doing there?"

"Nothing. John, it's time we turned this problem over to the whole ICC. We've already delayed too long."

"I don't need fifty agents to call back the same people and agencies we've already called. If you need help, then you go ahead and put out an e-mail or however you alert all the troops. Meanwhile, I know how to find a fucking missing person."

"Excuse me?" said Mrs. Hambrecht, who was back on the line. "What did you say?"

"Uh… just clearing my throat." I cleared my throat. She said, "I have the same address you have." "Okay… would you know Mr. Wiggins' hometown?" "No. I don't know much about him. I only remember him from Lakenheath on our first tour of duty there in the nineteen eighties. He's a very irresponsible officer."