“Thanks.”

“Unless I kick you. Then feel free.” He pushed at the bar’s door, and held up his own eye. A red light flicked out and scanned him, then Newcomen. As far as the computer log was concerned, Hyram T. Wallace and Bertram K. Bendix from New Mexico had just entered. Both identities were over twenty-one and came with clean bills of health. No alarms tripped, and they were in through the second set of doors into the warm fug of the bar.

Petrovitch started to undo his coat, and scanned the patrons, running their faces through the US database. He spotted his target over in a darkened corner, well away from the jazz band doing their thing on the cramped stage.

“Ready?”

“I don’t know what for, but okay.”

Petrovitch ignored the several empty booths and chose one already occupied by a young man, only the top of his head visible above the seat back. He slid along the seat opposite him, while Newcomen found himself facing a startled dark-haired girl with a hint of an epicanthic fold about her upper eyelids.

“Don’t try and get up,” said Petrovitch. “We only want to talk.”

The man – a slimmer, younger version of Newcomen – was pale already.

“Did my parents send you?” His voice quavered.

“We’re not private investigators, and we’re not here to enforce the injunction. Relax.” Petrovitch threw his hat on to the table and shrugged his coat off. “You’re not in trouble with me.”

“Then what do you want?”

Petrovitch leaned forward and beckoned him closer. “My name is Dr Samuil Petrovitch.”

The man blinked. “Oh my g… word. You are. You are him. How did you…?” He stopped and started again. “You just walked in here?”

“Yeah, pretty much. This is Joseph Newcomen, FBI.”

“FBI? Oh.”

“It’s fine. He’s with me, and he really hasn’t got time to worry about you two.” He looked at Newcomen. “Isn’t that right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Newcomen.

“Excellent.” Petrovitch turned back to the couple.

“I’m Alan,” volunteered the man. “This is Jessica.”

“I know who you are. I know all about you.” Petrovitch smiled. “Let me buy you both a drink and you can tell me all about my daughter and Jason Fyfe.”

22

Petrovitch caught the waitress’s attention with a raise of his hand. She had epic breasts and a slightly too-tight blouse: not quite enough to get her hauled up on a public lewdness charge, but more than sufficient for Newcomen to blush pink and make a poor attempt at looking away.

“Whatever my friends had last time – unless you’d like something different – and whiskey for me and Joe Friday. Stagg if you’ve got it. Better still, just bring the bottle and some glasses.”

“Sure thing, hon,” she said. She collected an empty bottle of lite and went back to the bar. Her skirt was on the tight side, too, and Newcomen’s gaze was drawn away from the table.

Petrovitch turned Newcomen’s head back around and scraped his finger at the corner of the man’s mouth. “Let’s just wipe the drool away, shall we?”

“But she’s barely wearing anything,” said Newcomen, his forehead damp.

“Yobany stos, she can wear what she likes. Unless you’re going to arrest her, leave her alone.” He returned his attention to Alan. “So. Jason’s a postgrad in your department, right? And you know him pretty well.”

“He’s my lab supervisor. He’s pretty cool.” He kept on glancing at Jessica, almost as if he was checking everything he was saying with her.

She wrapped her fingers around her soda and made the ice rattle. “He lets me hang out in the lab. I’m an arts major, and so I’ve got plenty of time spare. It made it easier for me and Alan, you know, to…” She watched the bubbles rise in her glass. “Spend time together.”

“Yeah, look,” said Petrovitch. “Anything that’s going to help me find either Jason or Lucy is good. I need to know it all, no matter how uncomfortable it might make either you or me. Okay?”

Alan nodded. “Okay. Jason. Nice guy. Smart, but he had a talent for explaining hard stuff so that even a freshman could understand. He could be kind of intense at times, talking about his subject, or his music: this stuff, jazz. I liked him.”

“How well did he know my daughter?”

“Pretty well, I guess. They hung out together: them both being foreigners was maybe a reason.”

Jessica cleared her throat. “I think he wanted to know her a whole lot better.” Alan raised his eyebrows at her, and she scowled back. “It’s a girl thing to notice the vibes. He acted differently around her to when he was around me. I was a friend; she was someone he wanted to be more than a friend.”

She stopped as the waitress reappeared with bottles and glasses and a pitcher of water balanced on her tray. She dealt out the coasters like a card sharp and got everyone’s drinks right without prompting. Somehow she guessed that Petrovitch drank his whiskey straight up, and it was Newcomen who needed the water.

Newcomen winced once when she bent forward to push Alan’s bottle of beer over to him, and again when she placed the shot glass in front of Petrovitch. When she’d gone, he glared.

“You kicked me.”

“You were staring at her chest.” Petrovitch cracked the seal on the whiskey and poured himself a generous measure, then slid the bottle down to Newcomen.

The agent splashed a little spirit out, barely enough to wet the bottom of the glass, and topped it up with water.

Petrovitch shook his head and raised his glass. “Na bufera!”

Without knowing what they were saying, the others joined in the toast. He hid his smile behind his glass.

“Where were we? Jessica?”

“Jason would look at her, at Lucy, when she was busy with something. You know, like when she had her head in something electronicky, or when she was doing the math at the whiteboard, or when she was halfway up a ladder fixing an aerial thing. He’d look at her that way you look at someone when you don’t want them to know how much they mean to you.”

“She didn’t notice, did she? She broke his heart and she never realised.” Petrovitch poured himself another finger of whiskey. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m pretty sure he wasn’t the only one. But I think he had it the worst.” Jessica stirred her half-melted ice cubes with her straw. “I guess she didn’t know the effect she had. Some girls do that innocent act, in order to attract the guys. Your Lucy didn’t act.”

“Considering some of the stuff she’s done, it’s a wonder she turned out sane, let alone innocent. What did Jason do when he found out she was missing?”

“We were junking burnt-out circuits,” said Alan, “and someone, can’t remember who, stuck their head around the door. Said Lucy was out of contact. The next thing I knew, he’d gone, and had left a note with the Dean saying he’d taken some days off.”

Newcomen hunched over, deep in thought. “There was a snowstorm. Lucy wasn’t actually reported missing until three days later, when the plane from Eielson made it out there.”

“We found out about that on the Monday, but Jason was long gone by then. I thought at the time he’d be interested in the news, but I had no way of reaching him. I didn’t realise that he had a thing for Lucy.”

Jessica put on her ”stupid men” face and poked Alan in the ribs.

Petrovitch brooded, while the others looked on. Eventually he asked: “Anyone else been asking questions?”

Alan shrugged. “Not of me, or Jessie. Maybe some of the tenured staff, but none of the students. We talk about it sometimes, but when we ask the faculty, they say Jason’ll come back when he’s ready. They don’t say anything at all about Lucy.”

“I’m really sorry, Dr Petrovitch,” said Jessica. “I got to know Lucy a bit: not many girls in a physics department, I guess. I asked her once if she minded all the things that they said about you.”