“Excellent,” Holmes remarked, settling into his chair and opening the textbook as Skye returned to her paper.
Holmes was several chapters into the textbook, and Skye had just sent the document to Morris as an encrypted email, when Caitlin returned with dinner. Skye shut down her laptop and stowed it in its case, then cleared her desk to use as a dinner table. Holmes was amused by the cardboard containers, but admitted the food was excellent. The three had a congenial dinner, then Holmes cordially walked the two ladies to the perimeter gate before returning to his—now very temporary—quarters.
* * *
The next morning the Project: Tesseract team, plus one, met. They summarized the analysis of Skye’s actions and concluded definitively that no damage had been perpetrated on the continuum. They then reviewed all the detailed data they’d obtained from Holmes’ Continuum 114, to see if they might already have some of the needed documentation. They did, in fact, have all of one required case, and part of another; Skye had the video data transferred to classified DVD.
Then, using Holmes’ schedule, they began accumulating the remaining three-and-a-half cases.
It took the rest of the week to painstakingly review and record the data; it was a hurtful activity for Holmes, as it continually reminded him of the world and the friends he had left behind. But it was necessary for him to be there, to ensure everything was recorded in as much detail as possible. Skye and Caitlin tried to keep the sessions short for his sake, noting his pallor and withdrawn demeanor.
In the evenings Skye had Morris’ permission to get Holmes out of the base, and Holmes was glad to go, thankful for the diversion of new experiences to help get his mind off his loss. Several times they moved a few small items from his quarters to Skye’s ranch, usually arriving about twilight. Once he spent the night, riding down the pass with Skye the next morning. In general, however, they either went to a restaurant for a leisurely dinner, or up the pass to Skye’s ranch, where they tended the horses before Skye prepared dinner herself, then returned Holmes to the base. Holmes decided she was an excellent cook, on a par with Mrs. Hudson but with a wider repertoire, and told her so, to her gratification.
* * *
“It’s done,” the military police officer reported to Colonel Jones one evening when Holmes and Chadwick were dining in the Springs. “Cameras in the trees, focused on the house; another on the roof of the barn. Sensors all along the fence lines on the posts. The entire ranch is under surveillance now. You can call it all up on your computer, and only your computer; we set it exactly the way you instructed.”
“Good,” Hank Jones noted, relieved.
“Permission to speak freely?”
“Granted.”
“You suspect ‘em?”
“Not particularly,” Jones admitted. “Not at all, actually. But under the circumstances, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Something’s going on, we’ve got a classified situation there, and at least now I know they’ll have security for the place.”
“True,” the MP agreed. “They’ve got that now. No guards, but…”
“One thing at a time, soldier. Dismissed.”
* * *
“I dunno,” Little Joe told Tracker on his radio as he drove around the top of Ute Pass, aimlessly looking for any black vehicle containing a male and female matching Holmes’ and Chadwick’s descriptions. “They’re too damned fast. That woman drives like a bat outta hell, and I can never guess what they’re gonna do. Do you have a description of her car yet?”
“No,” Tracker noted. “Not yet. Other than it’s black.”
“I KNEW that,” Little Joe complained. “Make and model would be nice. Until I can actually follow ‘em to the house, we won’t know where they live.”
“It may be better, if she lives in so remote a location, that you and your vehicle aren’t seen going by in any case,” Tracker mused. “You’d be remembered.”
“True. How are you gonna find out where she lives then?”
“I have my ways,” Tracker chuckled. “If this doesn’t work out, there are always backup plans. You know all the contacts I have.”
“Yeah. Am I involved?”
“Maybe.”
“Cool…”
* * *
The documentation sessions in the Chamber went well, and by week’s end not only did Holmes have an excellent feel for the project’s operational procedures, Skye also had all the proof General Morris could possibly want. She presented it to him, in the form of six classified DVDs, on Friday after lunch; Holmes chose to remain in Skye’s office to allow for Morris and Chadwick to discuss the situation in private.
“Excellent,” Morris responded. “My wife will be pissed, but I’ll come in this weekend and review these myself, probably with Welker to get DSS’s concurrence. Were there any discrepancies from the stories?”
“Nothing of consequence,” Skye said. “The stories were deliberately vague in places, due to what we’d term security issues, but nothing was falsified. And you know I’d tell you if there was a problem.”
“I know, Skye. You’re opinionated, and you’ll tell me point-blank if you think I’m off in the weeds. You’re a straight shooter, Doctor, and this old soldier appreciates that.”
“Thank you, General,” Skye said with a pleased smile. “I do try.”
“Anyway, I’ll get Holmes some paperwork that’ll keep him out of the hands of INS until we can figure out exactly what to do with him. Then he can move in with you, and get comfortable in our world.”
“Right. I expect he’ll want to return to detective work again, once he’s got modern matters down.”
“Oh, that reminds me. He already has. He’s looked into a matter for Colonel Jones, and pointed him in an interesting direction. Jones wants to consult with him. Can you arrange a meeting for the two of them? Jones said something about a retainer fee for consulting services.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Skye exclaimed, excited. “Yeah, I’ll set something up for them as soon as Jones has an opening available.”
“Good. Listen, Skye, when are you and Dr. Hughes putting the project on hold? I know you’ve been busy getting this data for me, but…” Morris waved the DVDs about. “I need to get with Washington on the matter, and I need to know the complete status.”
“I thought I’d run through a few basic diagnostics the first part of next week, then shut it down for discussion,” Skye said, becoming subdued. “We’d have done it this week, but we were busy with those.” She nodded at the DVDs he held.
“Okay, that’s fine. Keep me posted. Oh, here.” He handed her a memo.
“What’s this?” Skye wondered, taking it and scanning it.
“A nice, bland, unclassified little document that’ll keep Holmes’ ass out of the hoosegow this weekend while I’m reviewing these,” Morris jabbed a finger at the DVDs. “If any police, INS, park ranger, or other such type wants to question his bona fides, this refers them to me. Have him keep it in his wallet. By Monday I should have something formal ready.”
“Good job. Thanks, General. Is it okay if we move this weekend?”
“Sure, why not? You’ve seen what’s in the video, and you vouch for it; so does Hughes. This is just a CYA move on my part. Dr. Hughes informs me Security read him in this morning as a permanent member of Project: Tesseract, based on what you’ve got.”
“Yeah, he was already read in temporarily. But it’d be good to have formal paperwork on him, to make him look like a legitimate member of society. You know, birth certificate, social security, all that stuff.”
“Give me time, Skye,” Morris protested. “That sort of thing doesn’t happen overnight, even when the person originated in this country. Holmes is—was—I guess still is, a citizen of Great Britain. That means international strings to be pulled. Not to mention it’s a very unique situation. It’s going to take awhile.”
“As long as you’re working on it, I’m happy,” Skye said with a mischievous grin.
�
��Skye, if anybody but you said that to me, they’d get an ass-chewing faster than they could sneeze.” Morris snorted.
“Ah, you know you love me.”
“I know I’ve known you for years. And I know I consider you a trusted colleague. Even so, if you were military, I’d bust your ass for insubordination.” He grinned, to remove any sting his words might carry, then added, “Now get that unbusted ass out of my office and get that detective of yours up to your ranch and settled. And don’t forget Colonel Jones.”
“You got it, General!” Skye exclaimed, sauntering out as requested.
* * *
Skye literally danced into her office. Holmes looked up in surprise from the quantum mechanics text.
“My, aren’t we chipper,” he declared dryly.
“Here you go,” she sang, offering him the memo. “Put this in your wallet and keep it there.”
“What is it?” Holmes wondered, pulling out his leather pocketbook before accepting the paper. He scanned it while she watched. “Oh,” he said, pleased. “My preliminary authorisation papers.” Holmes folded the document and tucked it away in his wallet. “Does this mean I am approved to move out of the temporary quarters?”
“Yep.” Skye radiated happiness as she moved behind her desk and reached for her laptop. “We can move you this weekend.”
“That will not take long,” Holmes said with dry humor, watching as she brought something up on the computer screen and studied it. “I can have the lot packed inside ten minutes. I do not intend to take all the uniforms with me—although I will likely take several, to use as disguises. General Morris did give his permission.”
“He did. That’s part of your cover story.” She reached for the telephone. “But meanwhile I need to set up a meeting between you and Colonel Jones. Jones requested it.” Skye dialed the phone.
“Oh? He must have some new information regarding the two murders.”
“Christine? This is Dr. Chadwick. General Morris told me to contact Colonel Jones about arranging a meeting between him and Commander Holmes. Yes, as soon as possible. Yes, I’ll hold.” Skye put her hand over the mouthpiece to tell Holmes, “Jones’ secretary. She’s gone to tell Jones. Wup, she’s back.” Skye uncovered the mouthpiece. “Yes, Christine? Oh? Yes, we can be there in fifteen. Thanks! See you in a few minutes.” Skye hung up the phone.
“C’mon, hotshot,” she told Holmes, standing and heading for the door. “He put everything else on hold to meet with you.”
* * *
Christine ushered them into Colonel Jones’ office, but Skye paused at the door.
“I’ll wait out here,” she suggested, turning back toward the outer office. “After all, I’m not part of the investigation.”
“Nonsense, Skye,” Holmes protested. “You are my liaison, and if Colonel Jones should desire my assistance, I will undoubtedly require yours, in turn.”
“He’s right, Doctor,” Jones agreed. “Please, come in and listen. You may be interested in what I have to say.” He waved the pair into chairs. “Has Mr. Holmes filled you in like I suggested?”
“He did, on the way over here, very, very discreetly.”
“Good. I wanted to update you, Mr. Holmes, and ask a favor.”
“By all means,” Holmes said graciously. “Please proceed.”
“It seems you were right,” Jones confirmed. “I sent a team up the road from the perimeter breach, and we did find the site where Michaels’ pickup truck was tampered-with.”
“Pray tell,” Holmes murmured, leaning back in the chair, steepling his fingers, and half-closing his eyes.
“There were ruts on the roadside that matched the vehicle’s tires. There was a spring snow the day before, but it thawed and left the road shoulders muddy, and it’s been dry ever since. We got lucky there.”
“Indeed fortunate,” Holmes murmured.
“I have photographs, if you’d like to see.”
“Not necessary. The knowledge that it was there is sufficient for now.”
“We could see where someone had been under the truck, specifically under the front axle, and we were even able to get a few cloth fibers out of the mud.”
“Excellent,” Holmes smiled.
* * *
“Any DNA for identification?” Skye interrupted, and Holmes’ eyes flew open as he glanced at her in surprise.
“Not likely, but the lab is checking, just in case,” Jones answered. “We’re also doing a chemical analysis to see if we can identify the fibers, or pull any other clues from it, like perfume constituents, dyestuffs, or the like.”
Skye nodded, and Holmes absorbed the information.
* * *
“Nucleic acid identification. Interesting,” he muttered, remembering Skye had been addressed as a former investigator on at least one occasion in his recollection. “Forensic science has come as far as all the others, it would seem.”
“Only some of the technology,” Jones shrugged. “We still use the same footwork you always have. It’s just, now, we can squeeze more information out of any clues we find…sometimes.”
“Very well,” Holmes glanced at Skye. “Another matter with which to request my liaison familiarise me.”
Skye looked dubious, but nodded.
“Do continue, Colonel,” Holmes added.
“Okay. We did as you suggested, digging into the background of the two men, too. And that uncovered something interesting: A spy ring.”
“What?” Skye sat upright.
“Espionage,” Holmes murmured, satisfied. “I cannot say I am surprised. Please elaborate.”
“Well, we don’t know much yet, just that there seems to be one. But some of my…undercover associates…contacted me when they realized I was investigating the matter as a double homicide, instead of suicides. It turns out Michaels and Davis had volunteered, and were working for them. The two lieutenants were, in effect, double agents, trying to infiltrate the espionage ring.”
“Evidently they were caught,” Holmes decided.
“It appears so,” Jones agreed. “And were killed for it.”
“But what are they after? The spies, I mean,” Skye wondered.
“Whatever it is, it’s here on Schriever, not in the Mountain,” Jones observed grimly. “And that narrows it down to a handful of possibilities. Your project, Doctor, is one of them.”
“Oh, shit,” Skye whispered. “Oh, shit.” She paled.
“Stay calm, my dear Skye,” Holmes murmured, laying a quelling hand on her arm. “I know your concerns all too well. Yet it may be something else entirely they are after.”
“True,” Jones agreed. “It’s too soon to tell. But that’s why I wanted to ask you a favor, Mr. Holmes.”
“Then by all means, ask.”
“My staff is already stretched thinner than I’d like, what with budget cuts out of Washington. And my jurisdiction is limited. So I’d like to put you on retainer, as a special consultant on the case.”
“Indeed.” Holmes sat bolt upright with excitement.
“Yes. Given your stature and abilities, the fee would be at the top going rate, and you’d have whatever backup and supplies you’d need. Would that be suitable?”
* * *
Skye noted the slightest sidewise glance from Holmes’ grey eyes, and she realized he was subtly requesting her advice. She was thankful she’d thought to check the typical fees for private investigators online before leaving her office; she fully understood what a generous contract Jones was offering. So she stared at Jones and slapped an enthusiastic, wide-eyed gaze on her face. “Wow! That’s cool.”
Jones and Holmes both chuckled, and once more, the grey eyes cut sideways, invoking gratitude.
“I believe that will be acceptable, Colonel,” Holmes replied. “Perhaps with an additional small fee, payable to Dr. Chadwick for her assistance. I thank you.”
“Of course,” Jones agreed before Skye could say anything. “Perfectly reasonable. I’ll make some modifications to the contract
I had prepared, and it’ll be ready for you to sign Monday morning. I’ll also have copies of all the reports.”
“Excellent. Anything else, Colonel?”
“Yes. Based on the information General Morris has been feeding certain…channels at Defense Security Service regarding your current security risk, or rather lack thereof, I anticipate granting you a facility clearance equivalent to Dr. Chadwick’s on Monday, when I should get the final go-forth on the matter. It’s being expedited. Do you have an office on base?”
“No, but he can use mine,” Skye offered. “There’s room for another desk and safe in there.”
“I am unlikely to need it,” Holmes murmured. “Except possibly the safe, for documents.”
“Then I’ll have a safe moved into your office, Dr. Chadwick, with Mr. Holmes listed as the custodian, and you as backup custodian,” Jones declared.
“Very good,” Holmes agreed, and Skye nodded. “Do you anticipate my services this weekend? I am about to move my domicile.”
“Yes, I understood from General Morris you’re moving to Dr. Chadwick’s ranch. Excellent idea, Doctor, if I might say so. You’re eminently qualified to function as his escort and liaison while he stretches his wings. And as intelligent as Mr. Holmes is, he’ll be soloing in no time.”
Though they hid it well, both Holmes and Chadwick were startled by the last statement, unaccountably perturbed by the thought.
“But no,” Jones continued, “there’s no reason to interrupt your moving plans at this point. The investigation is slow so far. Go ahead and get settled, and I’ll arrange for you to start first thing Monday. Oh, let me do this.” He opened a drawer and pulled out an odd-shaped cable cutter. “Pull down your sock and let’s get rid of that GPS detector.”
The Case of the Displaced Detective Page 13
