"Wow, no shit. Didn't they teach you at law school that it's a crime to lie to the cops?"

"Cut the crap, Barry. One minute. You promised."

"If you want the full minute, speak more clearly."

"Okay. Possibly Cliff Daniels betrayed this country. Possibly he gave enormously sensitive information to the wrong people in Iraq and compromised a very important operation. You wondered why a CIA person and a military policewoman were sent to his apartment. Now you know-espionage."

There was a long, contemplative pause. He said, "My oldest boy-Elton-he's a Marine. First Marine Division. Already been to Iraq once." After another moment he mentioned, "Did my own four years as a Jarhead before I became a cop. Semper Fi."

"Couldn't get into the Army?"

"Hey, I tried. Only the Army recruiter, he said I possessed two irreconcilable issues: My parents were married, and I don't look sufficiently stupid."

"Really? You look stupid enough to me."

We both laughed. He said, "All right, I'll give you more than a minute. Go ahead, blow some more smoke up my ass."

So I gave him part of the story, essentially that Daniels got in over his head and gave a foreign agent some information, though we didn't yet have a clue what that information was, because it was in code, and the code was a ballbuster. Nor did I clarify how we learned about this.

He was a smart guy, though. He knew that when dealing with a federal government official, he was not hearing one-third of the story, another third was sprinkled with fairy dust, and the final third was total bullshit. But I fed him enough truth and his cop brain was filling in some of the blanks. I wrapped it up, saying, "Here's the big piece you were missing-motive-why somebody wanted to murder Cliff Daniels. In fact, the list of people who didn't want Daniels dead would fill a matchbox. There are people in Washington, and here in Baghdad, who would benefit greatly from his death. We're sure his killer was a woman, and possibly she was hired help, but don't exclude the possibility she was working on her own."

For a moment, Barry said nothing. He needed time to process these clues and revelations, and he eventually asked the right and proper question. "What do you want me to do about this?"

Bian had done some thinking on this topic, because she immediately responded, "Now you know there was a murder. That simplifies your problem. Focus on the killer."

When he made no reply, Bian added, "Colonel Drummond has a theory that all murderers make mistakes. Is that your theory as well?"

"Yeah, most do. We also have a thick file of cold cases that dates back to 1969. See if you can talk him into examining it. We'd love to know what mistakes they made."

"But this killer may have left trails," Bian insisted. "That high-priced wig. Probably hers. Wigs are no longer fashionable for women-how many stores in the D.C. area sell expensive hairpieces these days? And that triple-X video… we assumed it was his and maybe we assumed wrong. Likewise, how many stores in the area sell porn?" I gave Bian a look and she asked Barry, "Am I overstating the obvious?"

"Yeah, I do this stuff for a living. And you're overlooking that people purchase wigs and porno on the Internet these days. I'll check around, though."

Bian looked at me to see if I had anything to add. I suggested, "They had to have gone out together once or twice before. Dated, slept together, whatever. Check his charge-card records. See where he socialized lately. Maybe somebody will remember her."

"Long shot. We already know the guy had a lot of lady friends, right? Who knows which ones people will remember."

"There are no short shots here, Barry."

"You out of bright ideas?"

So I explained my new theory about how the murder was more stylistic than we initially surmised, including a few ideas about the possible symbolism in the staging of his death. On that topic I suggested, "You might spend a little time thinking about what that was intended to convey. If any profilers owe you a favor, call it in. If we get a better idea about how he was killed, maybe we'll get closer to why, and by whom."

"You realize I'll have to do this on my own time."

"You'd better do this on your own time." I added, "And watch your back."

"I figured out that part on my own." He asked, "Say I find something-how do I get in touch with you?"

"You don't. I'll check in with you."

"Got it. So what are you two doing in Baghdad?"

"Vacationing."

"Aw, come on. This has something to do with Daniels's murder. Right?"

"It's the hottest thing in adventure tourism. They advertise it as a safari, only you're the prey. Very exciting."

He laughed. "My boy, Elton, he said it sucks over there."

"Your boy has a good head on his shoulders."

"Let me tell you, he used to be a little asshole. Not all cops' kids are angels. The Corps straightened him out." He chuckled. "The first time he made his bed, his mama wanted to know who manufactured the robot that looks like her kid."

"Barry, listen. If you don't want Elton to spend the rest of his career over here, find something."

"Stay in contact." He hung up.

Bian lifted her beer can and we performed a quiet aerial toast. She said, "They failed to close the back door."

"But they didn't forget. These people aren't stupid, Bian. They won't ignore it."

"I know. What happens if he's caught?"

"He'll be okay. He's a big boy. He understands the risks."

"You're sure about that?"

"He's not a federal employee so they can't screw up his paycheck, or… say, reassign him here. You and I, on the other hand, might have a big problem."

"Screw them."

"Why are you doing this, Bian?" I popped that question out of the blue and watched her closely to see how she responded.

She did not bat an eye. "Duty, honor, country. It's that simple."

"Obeying orders is part of duty, and country can be interpreted many ways. You're not telling me something, Bian. I'd like to know what it is."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"With you, nothing is obvious."

"Is that a criticism?"

I took her hand and said, "No, it's not. You're a very exciting, unpredictable, and fun woman to be around. These past three days, despite everything, I've had a great time. I mean that. But from the moment I met you, I've sensed that you have your own agenda."

"This is the second time you've brought this up. It's getting old. What is it you think I'm doing?"

"Something more than truth, justice, and the American way. This is personal for you. I'm just not sure why."

She took a sip of her beer and examined me curiously. "That's hypocritical. You've been with me every step of the way. Has someone put a gun to your head?"

"Well… Ali bin Pacha, for one."

"Oh, screw off. Why are you bucking the system? Obviously not to get in my pants."

"Hey, that's below the belt."

To be polite, she smiled at my bad pun. She said, "I told you, I lost friends and soldiers here. I'd blow the whistle on these people in a heartbeat, but the scandal would destroy everything a lot of good soldiers have accomplished through blood and tears. That's something I'm not willing to do. I hope you're not either. But I'm more than willing to trade my career if I can force these people to make it right. Other people are giving their lives and limbs."

"Okay. I believe you."

"You better. And stop trying to psychoanalyze me. It makes me uncomfortable."

I sipped from my beer.

She said, "I know you're the cynical tough-guy type, and I know you'd never confess to doing anything altruistic. And I also know that it's a veneer, and that, underneath, you're maybe even a bigger sucker than I am, and maybe you're as compelled to find the truth here as I am."

Then, out of the blue, she added, "I'm going to take another shower. When I was here, we'd go weeks without them. I hated that almost more than I hated being shot at. It's so nice to feel clean in Iraq for a change."