"S'all right. What's going on?"

"My men found some clothing that I presume belongs to you and Thomas. We also found lots of titanium flechettes in the outer seawall where they shot at you and, thankfully, some undamaged projectiles that hit the water and got caught in the beach matting. We'll have good ballistics on these if we ever have a weapon to match them against.

"Anyway, I'm having the clothing brought around for you to identify. They'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Goodbye, sleep.

She dressed for Thomas, an odd gesture, since he wouldn't see her-he was 250 miles away. She dressed in something she thought he'd like, an old green cotton dress that made the most of her modest bosom, clung at the waist, and flared out to midcalf. It had been her mother's. Her father had liked the way it brought out the red in Patricia's hair, but she hadn't worn it for a long time. She put on black flats and was combing her hair when the NGPD arrived.

The clothes were hers and Thomas's and, after she identified them, the policewoman left them with her. She sat on the couch, still sleepy, Thomas's shirt wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl, feeling foolish and smiling. He's got to come back for his shoes, doesn't he?

Another call came in on the satphone and she made herself wait for the second ring before she answered it. "Hello.""Hi ther-" Thomas's voice broke off suddenly with a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Sorry. Hi, there."

She couldn't help laughing. "Did you have trouble sleeping, too?"

"Who got to sleep? I couldn't, on the plane, because I was thinking of... the evening, and once I got here, there was too much to do. I'm about to go to bed now."

"I hope you sleep better than I did." She sighed. "When will you be back here?"

"I don't know yet."

Will you ever be back here? "How's your investigation coming?"

He hesitated. "What Alice said."

He doesn't want to talk about it. "Curiouser and curiouser?"

"That's the one. We'll have to talk about it later-wow! That's the biggest cockroach I've ever seen!"

The way he said it was odd, contrived, and she blinked, staring at the wall, concentrating. "Um, is there much of an insect problem there in Houston?"

He sighed relief. "Mosquitoes, cockroaches, all kinds."

"I'm glad I live out here. I can't stand cockroaches. I think it's those little antennae waving around."

"Exactly."

Bugs. He thinks the phone line is tapped. His? Or have they pulled the escrow keys for my satphone? This is worse than sitting in the boat with the police! "How will you get rid of them?" she asked. Not even alone on the phone!

He laughed. "I'd step on them, but they make a horrid scrunching sound."

"Some big strong male you are. How are you with mice?"

"They... well, they squeak."

"You are seriously in need of professional counseling. Or sleep."

"Yes. I wish you were here."

"Cockroaches? No way." She kept her tone light but felt on the edge of tears.

"Better you should come here."

His groan was deep and heartfelt, cheering her immeasurably.

"You'll be hearing from me. We'll talk after I've gotten some sack time."

"Sweet dreams.""Hace menos de cuarenta y ocho horas que te halle."

Patricia shook her head. "I know. Less than forty-eight hours. Interesting choice, there. Hallar. So you found me. Were you looking?"

"I guess so." He sounded surprised. "Hasta luego."

"Si. Be careful with my heart. I might need it back someday."

She hung up before he could respond.

11.

Becket: Arenque rojo

Thomas, Jazz, and Ensign Terkel huddled in the dark cargo space of the chandler's truck as it bumped and rattled along pier 28 of the Buffalo Bayou INS Station. For his part, Thomas was silent, nursing a large coffee in a disposable cup. He'd only been awake for thirty minutes. Terkel and Jazz were talking softly, Jazz drawing Terkel out about some esoterica of baseball.

Good job, Jazz. Terkel had started the ride strung tight as a wire, but his voice was audibly relaxed now.

The truck slowed, then jerked to a stop, and Thomas held his coffee out at arm's length to keep it from slopping onto his uniform. He heard the front doors open and muffled voices.

Thomas stood and heard Terkel and Jazz follow his example.

A chief petty officer and five seamen were waiting at the back of the truck.

Thomas had his ID out and extended. "Good evening, Chief. Commander Becket, INSCID." He pronounced it like the first half of insidious. "Would you please take me to your CO?"

The man's eyes were wide, staring at Thomas's face without once glancing at the ID, but he snapped to attention and saluted. The others in the crew also snapped to.

He knows who I am and he's very surprised to see me. Thomas jumped down to the pavement. Is it because you didn't expect me in this truck or is it because you thought I was dead?

Jazz jumped down behind him and took an equipment bag from Ensign Terkel, which he gave back to the ensign as soon as he'd dropped from the truck. The two formed up behind the chief petty officer and, as Thomas turned toward the sentry at the bottom of Sycorax's gangplank, nudged him forward.Two of the larger seamen from the work crew started to move forward and Thomas said, "As you were, gentlemen! You've got a truck to unload."

The sentry was armed with an M-21 automatic rifle and holstered sidearm. He stepped squarely in front of the gangplank and said, "Halt and identify yourself!" His voice held a note of panic.

All three officers held their ID's out in front of the sentry's face.

Thomas spoke, "Commander Thomas Becket, Lieutenant Hamilton Graham, Ensign Bartholomew Terkel, Criminal Investigation Division. I presume you know the chief, here. Stand aside."

The sentry shook his head. "This vessel is a gamma-level security installation."

Thomas shook his head. "Read the ID's, Seaman. We are all cleared to that level."

"Sir, you don't have assigned access!"

Thomas held his hand out toward Jazz, who slapped a piece of paper into Thomas's hand. Thomas unfolded the paper and read it aloud.

From: Adm. J. Peterson, CinCGulfOps To: Comdr. Randall Wall, CO Sycorax The following personnel are to have complete and unrestricted access to Sycorax including secured gamma-level stations. Comdr. Thomas Becket, Lt. Hamilton Graham, and En. Bartholomew Terkel, as well as any personnel designated by Commander Becket as long as they have gamma-level security clearance or better.

You will render them any assistance they require.

Thomas held the paper out to the sentry. "This order was acknowledged by your CO three days ago. I'll give you two minutes to clear this with the duty officer who should've let all sentries know. After that we'll just arrest you for obstruction."

"Uh, one moment, sir." The sentry picked up the station phone and talked into it.

Thomas looked pointedly at his watch. The Sycorax had pulled in an hour before, unscheduled, but their radio order for supplies to BBINS stores had been reported, thanks to some groundwork by Jazz. Thomas had no doubt that they'd have been out to sea again by dawn.

The sentry put down the phone. "Sir, Lieutenant Rodgers is on his way from the bridge."

Thomas took one step up to the soldier until he was right in his face. "Did the duty officer acknowledge our clearance?" His voice was loud and harsh.

The sentry flinched. "Uh, yes, sir."

Thomas lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "Then you've got two seconds to get out of my way before I take that gun away from you and ram it down yourthroat."

The sentry's lips turned white, compressed, and Thomas saw anger in his eyes, but the man stepped to one side and braced to attention.

Thomas walked past him without another word and heard Terkel's, Jazz's, and the CPO's footsteps on the gangplank behind him. They paused and saluted the ship's stern as they stepped aboard, then turned for the starboard stairway to the bridge level. The aforementioned Lieutenant Rodgers met them at the foot of the stairs. "What's this about, Commander?"

"Lieutenant Rodgers, I presume?"

"Yes... sir." The delay was deliberate.

Thomas rolled his eyes toward heaven. "Is your CO on the bridge, Lieutenant?"

"Commander Wall is dressing. He should be on the bridge shortly."

Thomas smiled mildly. "Fine. We can wait for him there. In the meanwhile, Chief, please show Lieutenant Graham and Ensign Terkel to your fifty-caliber machine gun storage." He looked at the CPO. "If you would be so kind."

"Aye, aye, sir." The chief petty officer's face was carefully neutral, though his eyes shifted briefly to Rodgers.

Thomas preceded Lieutenant Rodgers up the stairs. The bridge hatch was dogged open and he stepped into the interior. He'd served on a Witch Class boat many years before, but the Sycorax had been heavily modified, the compartments behind the room knocked out to triple the size of the usual bridge. It was still crowded, though, with several instrument and control stations beyond the standard.

A seaman stood watch near the helm cycling through some sort of menu on a touch screen, but he snapped to attention-with almost parade-ground rigidity-when Thomas and the lieutenant entered. Rodgers said, "As you were, sailor."

The degree of formality wasn't typical of the INS. Commander Wall must run a tight ship.

Thomas moved from station to station: remote piloting for the surveillance drone, two seats for sonar, a bank of five seats for electronic intelligence, and a raised command seat with repeater screens in the center.

He turned back to Lieutenant Rodgers, who was standing at parade rest, watching Thomas, expecting him to be impressed, perhaps. "Tell me about Machinist Mate Calvin McIntyre, Lieutenant."

Rodgers blinked. "McIntyre went AWOL eight days ago, when we put in at Abbott Refugee Processing Center. He had a two-hour pass to visit the Isabel Island Base Exchange and he didn't come back. One of our men saw him get on the ferryfor New Galveston."

"What sort of sailor was he?"

Rodgers shrugged. "I wasn't surprised when he ran. He... well, he wasn't up to the standard we maintain on this vessel. His fitness reports have not been good in the three months he was with us."

Thomas nodded encouragingly. "Interesting. Who saw him get on the ferry?"

Lieutenant Rodgers frowned. "I'm not sure, sir. The XO, Commander Puffet, handled the inquiry and apparently talked with the shoreside authorities. He would know."

"Captain on the bridge!" bellowed the seaman near the helm.

The lieutenant and the seaman braced to attention as Commander Wall stepped into the room. He was handsome in a way Thomas had never been, even before the fire. Straight nose, clear blue eyes, high forehead, and blond wavy hair just short enough to avoid violating regs. He was half a head taller than Thomas, and his uniform was starched and perfect.

"Commander Becket," he said, nodding. He didn't offer his hand but stood in an aggressive parade rest. "I understand there was a mix-up at the gangway. We don't normally read the admiral's directives to seamen. If we'd received some notice of your intent to visit..."

Thomas turned over his hand, palm up. "Things do fall between the cracks, don't they? Like your notification to GulfOps about this provisioning stop. Your last reported position was over a hundred and fifty miles southwest of here screening traffic into Fort Bend County."

The skin around Wall's eyes tightened.

"Yes, well, we were shadowing a foreign freighter just outside the EEZ. They hadn't filed for clearance to an American port, but it looked like they might be trying for Louisiana. That brought us north. They filed, though, a couple of hours ago.

Before returning to our station, I decided to reprovision."

Thomas smiled, "And a good thing, too. This saves me having to chase you down at sea."

From outside the bridge came a loud muffled crack and Lieutenant Rodgers jumped.

Commander Wall, his eyes on Thomas, said, "Stand easy, Anthony. That's just Commander Becket's men taking a ballistic sample from one of our M-2 machine guns. How is it done, Commander? A barrel of water?"

"It's a cylinder with multiple gel packs and rupture disks. Stops the bullet nicely without deforming it." Thomas nodded toward the door. "There'll be another in justa minute. Your vessel is the last one in the region we've checked. I see you've seen the news."

Wall pointed at the electronic intelligence consoles. "Oh, yes. Our reception is quite good. Everybody's talking about the Open Lotus and your investigation of fleet ordnance. It's amazing what people say over unsecured airwaves."

And secured.

"Could you tell me about your pursuit of the submersible that discovered the Open Lotus, Commander?"

"What's to tell? She ran when we did a routine hail, taking to her submersible. If we'd been any other INS vessel, we would have lost her in moments, but she was probably not expecting our sonar suite."

"You still lost her, though."