Diablo Mesa(26)

“Yes, sir. Several fingers on both victims were fractured. Pliers or a similar tool, used to crush and twist.”

Lathrop, impatient to break in, now interrupted. “It was torture most foul. We’ve removed the remains of internal organs to test for toxins and so forth. We’ll ship out those evidence containers tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” murmured Morwood. “ID?”

Lathrop again spoke over Corrie. “ID, yes, very important. Extremely important. Both victims had dental work, and we’ve got X-rays and are looking for a match in the databases. Unfortunately the acid erased any chance of fingerprint identification. The male is about forty to fifty, the female thirty-five to forty-five. I might note both sported wedding bands, and she had a modest diamond engagement ring—deformed, no doubt during the torture.”

This all came out in a rush.

“Wedding rings?” Morwood asked sharply. “They were married?”

“Certainly, and probably to each other,” Lathrop said. “In 1947, a woman wouldn’t normally go around with a man not her husband.”

“And the date?”

“Based on the coins found in the pocket,” Lathrop went on, “1947 seems like a probable date, since there was an uncirculated penny of that year, several coins predating that, but nothing later. So 1947 is the terminus post quem. The manufacturing date of the shell casings is 1947 as well.”

Corrie was annoyed to hear that Latin phrase, which Lathrop loved to employ and had once mocked her for not knowing.

“Any trace of radiation?” Morwood asked.

“First thing we checked,” said Lathrop. “None.”

Morwood said, “You probably know of the two bomb scientists who went missing up at Los Alamos in 1947—vanished into thin air. They were later shown to be spies, and it was presumed they had defected to the Soviet Union. When these two bodies were discovered, I thought we might have found them…until one turned out to be female. Still, I wonder if there might be a connection. Corrie, what do you think?” he added as Lathrop started to open his mouth again.

“I think that’s a lead worth looking into, sir,” said Corrie. This, she realized, was why Morwood had been so interested in the two bodies—and why he’d looked disappointed when one turned out to be female.

“Any success in figuring out what the device is?” Morwood asked.

“Not yet,” said Corrie. “HiChem Industries no longer exists. They did classified defense research, aeronautical engineering, missile and weapons design, that sort of thing. We’ve got pictures of it out to several engineers.”

“I’d like to check it out of evidence,” said Morwood, “and bring it to Los Alamos. There’s a fellow I know up there, a scientist, now semi-retired. Dr. Angus Eastchester. He might be able to identify it.”

“Of course,” said Corrie. “If you want, you can take it now. We’ll do the checkout paperwork after you leave.” She picked it up and put it back in its evidence box, then sealed it and made a note on the label.

“Much obliged,” said Morwood. “I’ll sign it back in directly after showing it to Eastchester.”

Garcia, who had said nothing, nodded approvingly.

Morwood looked at Corrie. “You’re doing a fine job, Agent Swanson. And thank you, Dr. Lathrop, for your invaluable contribution. This is a most peculiar case.” He shook his head. “I wonder what Dr. Eastchester will have to say about it.”





16



THE DAY HAD dawned, as usual, without a cloud in the sky. But what had started out fine had quickly been spoiled by a wind that kicked up early, and as the day wore on, it increased. Nora found working unpleasant, the wind scouring up billows of dust and blowing it across the excavation site. There were no trees to slow it down. The dust accumulated in her hair and face and clothes and got into her eyes, and she could feel it crunch between her teeth.

Mitty, who normally spent the day next to Skip, finally got so irritated that he abandoned the dig and retreated under one of the trailers.

Despite the dust, the dig was progressing apace. It was, as Vigil had said, some of the easiest excavation terrain she’d worked in—flat, soft ground, with no roots and few stones to deal with, and just enough caliche in the soil to hold it in place. She and Vigil methodically worked the quads, going down layer by layer, while Skip ran the screening operation, putting the sand first through a coarse screen, then a fine one. Kuznetsov and Cecilia Toth had used ground-penetrating radar to provide high-resolution charts of each quad, showing what might lie under the surface. But the shadows that appeared on the GPR, once they uncovered them, turned out to be of little interest.

Tappan had spent the morning watching the excavation, undeterred by wind or boredom. He was always about, asking questions, offering suggestions, and otherwise making his presence felt—but not, Nora thought, in a bad way. She wondered how he was running his other businesses remotely.

Nora carefully took the dirt samples from each quad Banks had asked for, one hundred grams at a time, sealing them in glass containers, labeled and set into a tray. When the tray was full, Skip carried them to the Three Engineers’ lab in Quonset 1.

Nora was relieved beyond measure when lunchtime rolled around. They all retreated to the shelter of Quonset 1, where a lunch had been laid out, with a variety of sandwiches, salads, tea, and coffee.