Then he checked his e-mail and text messages again, looking for at least a CC on the No Fly List discovery Garza had forwarded to Kiser.

There was none.

CHAPTER 38

Having no messages from Garza at all angered Fisk, both professionally and personally. That was when his phone rang. An unfamiliar number, though he recognized the exchange. Somebody from the U.S. Attorney’s office. Probably the same guy who’d e-mailed him twice already. He listened to it ring, thinking about pressing the red circle that would kick it to his voice mail . . . but he knew how U.S. attorneys were. This guy would call again and again.

Instead, Fisk thumbed the green button on his cell.

“Fisk.”

“Hi, Detective Fisk? Kevin Leary, U.S. Attorney’s office. How are you?”

“Super busy. What can I do for you that won’t take more than one minute?”

“Oh. Um . . . look, I don’t know if you got my e-mail . . . ?”

“I have not, no.”

“Okay, sir, well, here’s the thing. I’m looking at Case Number S Dash Seven Six Four One Three? Exhibit Number Three One One Nine? Anyway, Detective, the thing is it weighed out at a one hundred and thirty-nine point two five three grams. And it weighed in at one hundred and thirty-nine point two five one grams.”

“Is this supposed to mean something to me?” asked Fisk.

“It’s the polonium,” said Leary. “From the smoky-bomb case. You didn’t see the subject line of my e-mails?”

The prosecutor was starting to get that I’m getting irritated because I’m smarter and more important than you tone in his voice. This was always Fisk’s cue to start stalling, just on principle.

“No,” said Fisk, trying to find a way out of this.

“The evidence sheet has a weigh-in and a weigh-out line.”

“I gather that. I’m sure you must have a question, Kevin. I just haven’t heard it yet.”

Leary said, “The weight change is a problem.”

“The point zero zero two grams?”

“The defense has filed a brief about there being less polonium-210 than when originally booked into evidence. This is your case.”

“It is my case. But I’m not responsible for the evidence handling. When I left it, it was in a sealed steel container inside a sealed evidence envelope.”

“Where do you think it went, then?”

“The point zero zero two grams? Are you sure you calibrated the machine correctly? What is that, half a grain of salt?”

“Detective, the defense is trying to exclude the evidence by claiming evidence tampering. If we don’t have the evidence, we have no case.”

Fisk said, “Was the evidence envelope still sealed?”

Leary said, “No, the envelope was not still sealed. Defense had to open it to weight it.”

“Was the steel container still sealed?”

“Is that a trick question?” asked Leary. “I assume it was, they didn’t say otherwise.”

“Well, then?” said Fisk.

“I don’t know,” said Leary. “Can those envelopes be duplicated?”

“I doubt it,” said Fisk. “But you should pursue that with someone responsible for handling said evidence. For example, the defense.”

Leary sighed. “You see, this is the sort of thing that brings down otherwise ironclad cases. A little bit of doubt in the jury’s mind . . .”

“. . . and O. J. Simpson goes free, I get it. Why don’t you reweigh it yourself? Maybe the mistake is on their end.”

“I did reweigh it. Pain in the ass. It says one thirty-nine point two five one grams. That’s pretty damn exact.”

“Kevin, no offense,” said Fisk. “But this doesn’t seem like my problem.”

“Your signature is next to the larger amount, so it is potentially your problem. I weighed the evidence on a scale called a Lyman Micro-Touch 1500. It’s intended for weighing bullets. Because normally bullets are the only evidence that small that needs to be weighed with any degree of accuracy, it happened to be the only scale in the evidence lockup that weighs in fractions of grams. Now the thing about the Lyman 1500 is that if it’s been out of service for a while, you have to let it warm up for up to twenty-four hours before it stabilizes for final calibration. Up to that point, it varies by a couple of thousandths in either direction. That gives a potential range for error of point zero zero five grams, top to bottom.”

“Okay, so, there we go.”

“This is all lawyer talk I’m doing now. This is how we’ll have to counter this. The machine’s accuracy is affected if you don’t have time to warm it up for twenty-four hours and then calibrate it.”

Fisk said, “I didn’t weight it in myself. I did sign for it.”

“Okay,” said Leary.

“In lawyer speak,” said Fisk, “no matter what kind of scale you use, there will always be some level of error. So the only scientifically supportable approach is to round the observed figure to a reasonable, scientifically supportable number based on the published accuracy of the machine.”

“One hundred and thirty-nine . . . uh . . .”

“One hundred and thirty-nine point two five grams, correct.”

“But still . . . if it says in your logbook—”

“The logbook will not be entered into evidence,” said Fisk. “Here’s what you do. You put a little footnote in the filing that says, quote, ‘All exhibit weights expressed to published limits of machine accuracy.’ That’s a scientific term that you can look up in any manual of bench chemistry. If it ever comes up—and it won’t—but if it does . . . then I’ll have to get on the stand and explain that I’ve taken all these courses in evidence handling and scientific measurement and blah blah blah, and that scales have inherent levels of inaccuracy, that they have to warm up, calibration, blah blah blah, and that’s why we round the number to one thirty-nine point two five, that this number is the scientifically correct number despite the fact that the machine has a higher level of recordable and observable resolution.”

The line was silent.

“Kevin. A hundred and thirty-nine point two five grams.”

Leary said, “Okay.”

“I should not have to be telling you how to do this. Okay? This is stuff you’re supposed to know.”

Leary said, “Okay. I’ll get back to you.”

Fisk said, “No rush,” and hung up.

He darkened the screen and sat there a while, looking at his phone.

CHAPTER 39

Secret Service agent Dukes said, “Fisk, I only have a minute.”

“It’s the Mexican president’s itinerary. There’s one blocked-out period of time that isn’t accounted for.”

“Okay.”

“That doesn’t concern you?” asked Fisk.

“It might if I didn’t know what it was.”

“So you do know what it is.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Fisk waited a breath. “So what is it?”

“Some things I’m not allowed to share, Fisk. Even with a friend. That’s my job.”

“Not even if it might affect your job. That is, protecting visiting heads of state.”

“If I knew there was an immediate need to know, maybe. Why not ask your girlfriend?”

Fisk winced. “That’s funny.”

“It’s smart. I’d help her out if I could, too. And if I wasn’t otherwise married.”

Fisk scowled. He was tired of this. “What time is the restaurant walk-through?”

CHAPTER 40

The Waldorf was fully occupied,” said President Vargas, watching his bags being unpacked on the seventh floor of the Sheraton. “I guess I’ll make do.”

He seemed to regret the attempt at humor almost as soon as he uttered it.

“I didn’t know the man well,” he said. “But I know he was your personal hire.”

Garza nodded, wanting to move past this. “It is a terrible loss. Do you understand my concerns now?”