“She scares me too. Anything else you can think of that might help me?”

“Just give me my little sister back, Horatio. You do that, you’ve got a friend in Tampa for life.”

LEN RIVEST LED SEAN AROUND the grounds of Babbage Town. Behind the mansion was a network of buildings of various sizes. Sean observed that every door had a security panel next to it. One of the largest buildings covered about a quarter of an acre and was surrounded by a seven-foot fence. It had what looked to be a grain silo attached to it.

Sean pointed to the silo. “What’s in that thing?”

“Water. They need it to cool some equipment.”

“And in the other buildings?”

“Other things.”

“And which one did Monk Turing work in? And what did he do here?”

“I was hoping I could avoid saying.”

“Len, I was under the impression that you hired us to help find out how Monk Turing died. If you don’t want us to do that, just say so and I can get on back home and stop wasting everybody’s time. I’ve just spent a half-hour being told nothing by that Champ guy, I don’t intend on repeating the process with you.”

Rivest dug his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, Sean. I know you were at the Service with Joan, and I don’t like playing cat and mouse like this with a fellow fed. Between you and me I think the powers-that-be are having second thoughts about private investigators being here.”

“And who are the powers-that-be?”

“If I knew that I’d tell you.”

Sean gaped. “Are you telling me you don’t know who you’re working for?”

“If someone has enough money they can cover their tracks pretty well. My paycheck says I work for Babbage Town, LLC. I got curious once and tried to track down the corporate identity a little further and was told any other attempt to do the same would result in my ass being canned. This job pays far better than anything I’ve ever had before. I got two kids in college. I don’t want to blow it.”

“So how do you know they’re having second thoughts?”

“I get private communications on my computer each day. I told them you were already on the plane, and that you should at least have a chance to take a crack at this thing. Because it might get dicey.”

“Because of the FBI’s and CIA’s involvement?”

Rivest scowled. “Camp Peary of all damn places. But if you can solve it fast and hopefully show it has nothing to do with Babbage Town then maybe our problems go away.”

“But if it does have to do with Babbage Town?”

“Then I probably start looking for another job.”

“Champ Pollion thinks it has to do with some big conspiracy orchestrated by the military-industrial complex.”

Rivest groaned. “Please, I’ve got enough problems without wasting time on bullshit theories coming from that geek.”

“Okay, let’s focus on the basics. How did Monk Turing die?”

“Gunshot wound to the head. Gun was next to the body.”

“Where exactly was he found at Camp Peary?”

“Extreme eastern end of the complex that fronts the York River. You would’ve passed it coming down here if you’d looked across the water.”

“Fenced-in area?”

“Yeah, his body was lying just inside it. Evidence on the corpse indicates he climbed over. I’m sure the area’s patrolled, but apparently not 24/7. There’re thousands of acres to Camp Peary, and much of it undeveloped. Even the CIA doesn’t have the money to secure every square inch of it. Monk got in there somehow.”

“Where’s the body now?”

“A temp morgue was set up in White Feather, a small town fairly close to here. A medical examiner from Williamsburg did the post. There’s no doubt about the cause of death. I’ve seen the body and the report. But feel free to take a look.”

“Okay. Was Turing married?”

“Divorced. We’re still trying to locate the ex. No luck so far.”

“Kids?”

“One. Viggie Turing, age eleven.”

“Where’s she now?”

“Right here. She lived with her father in Babbage Town.” He inclined his head toward some cottages. “The buildings on the perimeter over there are housing for the people working here. Some of them live in the mansion too.”

“Is Viggie a nickname or a family name?” “It’s short for Vigenère or so I heard.” Sean said, “After Blaise de Vigenère?” “Who?”

“Never mind. Turing have any known enemies?”

“Well, he had at least one unknown one.”

“But what about the suicide theory? Near contact wound, gun found nearby?”

“Could be,” Rivest conceded slowly. “But my gut tells me otherwise.”

“Sometimes the gut is wrong.”

“It worked for me at the FBI for twenty-five years. And it’s telling me something’s wrong here.”

“I’ll want to talk to Viggie.”

“You’re going to have a hard time pulling anything out of that kid.”

“Why’s that?”

“If she’s not a little autistic, she’s something close. Monk could reach her, but nobody else really can.”

“Does she even know her dad’s dead?”

“Let’s put it this way, no one really knows how to break it to her. But it won’t be pretty.”

“Why, is she a violent child?”

Rivest shook his head. “She’s quiet and shy and one helluva pianist.”

“So what’s her problem?”

“She lives in her own world, Sean. You can be talking to her normally and all of a sudden it’s like she disappears. She just doesn’t communicate on the same level as you and me.”

“Has she been evaluated by a professional?”

“Don’t know.”

Sean thought of Horatio Barnes. “If it comes down to it, I might have someone who can help. Who’s looking after her now?”

“Alicia Chadwick among others.”

“And who is she?”

“She works in one of the departments here. I said Monk was the only one who got through to Viggie. But Alicia seems to be able to do it too, if on a limited basis.”

“Who found Monk’s body?”

“A guard on patrol at Camp Peary.”

“Any forensics at the crime scene to suggest any leads?”

“None that I know of.”

“The gun?”

“It was Turing’s. He had a permit for it.”

“Were his prints on the gun?”

“It seems like they were.”

“It seems like they were? Either they were or they weren’t!”

“Okay, they were. There was also nothing to suggest he’d been bound and no defensive wounds.” Rivest blurted out, “Look, maybe a damn Camp Peary guard pulled the trigger.”

“Using Turing’s gun?”

“Monk was trespassing. A guard shot him and they’re trying to cover it up.”

Sean shook his head. “If he was trespassing the guard would have a good reason to kill him. Covering it up just digs the hole deeper. And you wouldn’t use Monk’s own gun to do the deed.”

“Who the hell knows with the CIA?” Rivest protested.

“The second reason is even stronger. Monk was killed with a near contact wound. If a guard was close enough to do that he could’ve arrested Monk without killing him.”

“They got in a scuffle and the gun went off accidentally?” Rivest suggested.

“But there was no evidence of a fight, you said.”

Rivest sighed. “Who the hell knows where the real truth lies.”

“So what’s the CIA position?”

“That he climbed over the fence and shot himself.”

“You obviously don’t think that?”

Rivest looked around uneasily. “There’re a lot of eyes around here.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning a place like this, there might be spies.”

“Spies? Why do you think that?”

“No proof. Just my gut again.”

“Anything turn up in Turing’s personal possessions?” Sean asked.

“The Bureau’s taken all that stuff. His computer, papers, passport, etc.”

“Who was the last person to see Monk alive?”

Rivest said, “It might have been his daughter.”

“Doesn’t the Bureau have experts who can help with her?”

Rivest seemed to welcome this change in topics. “They brought one of these so-called experts down and she got nowhere with the kid.”