Zigo escorted me back in without another word. Agent Dei was waiting at the table. Rachel Walling still stood by the counter. I calmly sat down and looked at Dei.

"How'd it go?" she asked in a pleasant tone.

"It went fine. My client says I can talk to you. But it's not going to be a one-way street. We trade. I answer your questions, you answer mine."

She shook her head.

"Uh-uh, that's not how it works. This is an FBI investigation. We don't trade information with amateurs."

"You're saying I'm an amateur? I bring you a photo of the long-lost Robert Backus and I'm the amateur?"

I saw movement and looked over to Rachel. She had brought her hand up to her face to hide a smile. When she saw me looking at her she turned toward the counter and acted like she was studying the photo of Backus again.

"We don't even know if that is Backus," Dei said. "You've got a guy with a beard, a hat and dark glasses. It could be anybody."

"And it could be the guy that is supposedly dead but somehow managed to kill five men in Amsterdam a few years ago and now, what, six men here. Or is it more than the six listed in that newspaper story?"

Dei gave me a tight, unpleasant smile.

"Look, you may be impressing yourself with all of this, but we're still not impressed. It still comes down to one thing: you want to get out of here, then start talking to us. Now you have your client's permission. I suggest you start by telling us who this client is."

I leaned back. She was a fortress I didn't think I could break through. But if nothing else, I had gotten that smile from Rachel Walling. That told me I might have a shot at climbing over the FBI barricade with her later.

"My client is Graciela McCaleb. Terry McCaleb's wife. Widow, I mean."

Dei blinked, then quickly recovered from the surprise. Or possibly it wasn't surprise. Possibly it was a confirmation of some sort.

"And why did she hire you?"

"Because somebody switched out her husband's medicine and killed him."

That brought a momentary silence. Rachel slowly stepped away from the counter and came back to her chair. With few questions or any direction from Dei I told them the story of how I had come to be called by Graciela, the details of her husband's tainted medications, and my investigation up until the point I reached the desert. I began to believe I was not surprising them with anything. Rather, it seemed more like I was confirming something or at least telling a story they already knew parts of. When I was finished Dei hit me with a few clarifying questions related to my movements. Zigo and Walling asked nothing.

"So," Dei said after the story was finished. "That's an interesting story. A lot of information. Why don't you put it into context for us now. What does it all mean to you?"

"You're asking me that? I thought that's what Quantico does, puts it all into the blender and pours out a case profile and all of the answers."

"Don't worry, we will. But I'd like your view of it."

"Well," I said, but then didn't continue. I was trying to put it all together and into my own blender, adding Robert Backus in as the newest ingredient.

"Well, what?"

"Sorry, I was just trying to put it together."

"Just tell us what you are thinking."

"Did anybody here know Terry McCaleb?"

"We all did. What does that have to do with-"

"I mean really know him."

"I did once," Rachel said. "We worked cases. But I hadn't been in touch. I didn't even know he was dead until today."

"Well, you should know, and will know once you go over there and check his house and his boat and everything else, that he was still working cases. He couldn't let it go. He worked some of his own old un-solveds and he worked new cases. He read the papers and watched TV. He made calls to cops on cases that interested him and offered to help out." "And this got him killed?" Dei asked.

I nodded.

"Eventually. I think so. In January the LA. Times ran that story in the file you have there. Terry read it and got interested. He called over to Vegas Metro to offer his services. They shined him on, not interested. But they weren't above dropping his name in the local paper when it ran a follow-up story on the missing men."

"When was that?"

"Beginning of February. I'm sure you can check. Anyway, that story, his name in that story, drew the Poet to him."

"Look, we're not confirming anything about the Poet. Do you understand that?"

"Sure, whatever you want. You can take this whole thing as a hypothetical if you want."

"Go on with it."

"Somebody was abducting those men-and we now know burying them in the desert. Like all good serial killers he kept his eye on the media, to see if anybody was putting two and two together and getting close. He sees the follow-up story and he sees McCaleb's name. It's an old colleague. My guess is he knew McCaleb back in the day. At Quantico, before Terry came out to set up the Behavioral Sciences outpost in L.A. Before he went down with the bad heart."

"Actually, Terry was the first agent Backus mentored in the unit," Walling said.

Dei looked at her like she had betrayed some trust. Walling ignored her and I liked that about her.

"There you go," I said. "They had that connection. Backus sees the name in the paper and one of two things happened. He took it as a challenge or he knew McCaleb was relentless and was going to keep coming, despite the apparent lack of interest in him from Metro."

"So he went after McCaleb," Dei said.

"Right."

"And he had to eliminate him in a way that would not raise questions," Rachel added.

"Right."

I looked at Zigo. It was time for him to chime in but he said nothing.

"So he went over there and checked him out," I continued. "He had the beard, the hat, the glasses, probably a little plastic surgery to go with it. He hired Terry to take him fishing."

"And Terry didn't know it was him," Rachel said.

"Terry got suspicious of something but I'm not sure of what. Those photos were part of a series. Terry knew something was up with the guy and took extra photos. But I think that if he knew then that the guy was Backus he would've done something about it. He didn't, and that makes me think he wasn't sure what he had or who the guy was."

I looked at Rachel.

"You looked at the photo. Can you tell, is it him? I mean, in a hypothetical sort of way."

"I can't say, hypothetically or not. I can't see his eyes or enough of his face. If it's him he was cut. His nose is different. So are his cheeks."

"Easily changeable," I said. "Come to L.A. sometime. I'll take you to a guy I know in Hollywood who does work for the escort trade. He's got some before and after photos that will make you praise the wonders of medical science."

"I'm sure," Dei said, even though I was talking to Rachel. "Then what? When's he switch McCaleb's meds?"

I wanted to consult my chronology but my notebook was in my coat pocket. They hadn't searched me yet, so I wanted to keep the notebook out of it, maybe get out of there with it.

"Um, about two weeks after the charter Terry's boat was broken into. Whoever it was took a GPS device but I think that was just as a cover in case Terry realized somebody had-what is it?"

I had watched their reactions. The GPS meant something.

"What kind of GPS was it?" Rachel asked.

"Rachel," Dei cut in quickly. "You're an observer, remember?"

"A Gulliver," I said. "I don't remember the exact model. The sheriff's report is on the boat. It actually wasn't Terry's. It was his partner's."

"Do you know the partner's name?" Dei asked.

"Yeah, Buddy Lockridge. Don't you remember him from the movie?"

"I didn't see it. Do you know anything more about the history of this GPS device?"