Friday, September 09, 2005
Shadow Soldiers05: Those Born Again Americans
As Carrie entered Rolande's lab on the first floor, pulling off her coat as she came, Rolande glanced at his watch. Jo Brandt, the born again SAS programmer, said good morning and hurried past her. Like so much of the staff, Jo Brandt preferred not to be around Carrie.
"What's wrong?" Carrie asked Rolande.
"That bank person, the one Stephen Dunn put down. He's out on bail. We wanted you back here. Corky wants us to work in pairs from now on."
Miles Courtney, who everybody called Corky except Carrie, would be that cautious.
Rolande, never conscious of the fact that Carrie might have news of her own, said, "Look, I put in a call to Dr. Xiou Xiun over at Chapel Hill. He's an expert on Chinese history. These murders do resemble a very ancient type of ritualized sacrifice from China."
She was amazed. Rolande was extremely well read on Asian history. He could even read a bit of Mandarin. So his knowledge didn't surprise her, but the idea that anybody else would know such a thing did.
"The thing is, it's not all that commonly known. I want to check with Professor Xiou. I might be able to get the jump on the investigation and turn up a worthwhile theory. He can see me this afternoon."
She nodded. "What about Dunn?"
"Not much. What about Thomson?"
"Thomson is a girl," Carrie told him.
It was his turn to be surprised. The gray eyes lit up in wonder. "A girl?" Then he grinned. "A martial arts master?" He could not hide his sense of the ironic.
She frowned. "Yes, and a good one. She's amazing."
He let out his breath in good-natured derision---almost a laugh. She decided not to argue. Just let him meet Anne Thomson and he would see for himself. "I think I can arrange a meeting with her tomorrow," she said.
"Can't you just get a copy of her book?"
"No. She was quire clear on that."
"So it's an interview." His eyes were glum. Plainly, he thought this would be a waste of his time.
"I think she knows something about this---about the thinking behind these people."
"Oh? Sure?"
"No. But I want you to see her."
He nodded. "Tomorrow morning."
She scooped up the packet that Supina had left with them. "Toxicology reports on the first victims? I want to review these. What about details regarding the victims?"
"Just what's in there."
"Yes, all right. I'm sure the first panel reports are here." She held up the folders. "If they've missed anything, I'll do the set up for us to run tests. And we can check for whatever else you have in mind."
He nodded, relieved. Rolande, though just past 50, hated sitting still, and he hated inactivity. He liked Carrie's insistence on poring over reports and statistical information. Her preference for lab work freed him up to chase after rabbit trails of information. Actually, she thought, in spite of his protests about not being a police investigator, this legwork appealed to him.
"And I need money," she added. "How do we acquire funds for projects?"
He ruffled up his hair. "Oh, ask Jo Brandt. I think she sees to things like that."
She cocked her head. "Why?" She asked. "Isn't Miss Brandt a SAS expert?"
"Of course she is. But this is a small firm. We all do double duties on menial things."
"What's your double duty then?"
"Well I don't do double duty. I'm far too important. So are you." He grinned. "But Jo, Mike Franklin, and the intern, Tom Benton, share out some of the Admin duties when Barbara is busy."
Carrie nodded. The informality of American business often surprised her.
She went up the steps and knocked on the door of the IS department. At Mike Franklin's cheerful "Come in if you dare!" she entered.
The windowless room, kept at about 60 degrees because of the cooling demands of the servers, was paneled in darkly painted wood. The servers stood in racks against one wall, and three computer workstations stood against the opposite wall. Benton's place was empty, but Jo Brandt sat at the middle station, and Mike Franklin, head of IS, was at the other. A couple posters that proclaimed faith in the Christian religion adorned the walls. Franklin, she knew, was also a born again Christian.
Religion in Carrie's own country was always private, always sacred and quiet. Here in the States, people wore it on their t-shirts, in garish colors. They asked you to your face if you would go to heaven when you died. Carrie didn't think highly of any religion, and boorish evangelicalism offended her. She kept her tone courteous. "Miss Brandt, I was wondering if I could trouble you for some funds. Is there a requisition to fill out?"
"Yes, it's online. I can e-mail you the form," Jo Brandt said. "Is reimbursement all right?"
"Fine." She nodded. "Thank you." She backed out and closed the door.
|
"What's wrong?" Carrie asked Rolande.
"That bank person, the one Stephen Dunn put down. He's out on bail. We wanted you back here. Corky wants us to work in pairs from now on."
Miles Courtney, who everybody called Corky except Carrie, would be that cautious.
Rolande, never conscious of the fact that Carrie might have news of her own, said, "Look, I put in a call to Dr. Xiou Xiun over at Chapel Hill. He's an expert on Chinese history. These murders do resemble a very ancient type of ritualized sacrifice from China."
She was amazed. Rolande was extremely well read on Asian history. He could even read a bit of Mandarin. So his knowledge didn't surprise her, but the idea that anybody else would know such a thing did.
"The thing is, it's not all that commonly known. I want to check with Professor Xiou. I might be able to get the jump on the investigation and turn up a worthwhile theory. He can see me this afternoon."
She nodded. "What about Dunn?"
"Not much. What about Thomson?"
"Thomson is a girl," Carrie told him.
It was his turn to be surprised. The gray eyes lit up in wonder. "A girl?" Then he grinned. "A martial arts master?" He could not hide his sense of the ironic.
She frowned. "Yes, and a good one. She's amazing."
He let out his breath in good-natured derision---almost a laugh. She decided not to argue. Just let him meet Anne Thomson and he would see for himself. "I think I can arrange a meeting with her tomorrow," she said.
"Can't you just get a copy of her book?"
"No. She was quire clear on that."
"So it's an interview." His eyes were glum. Plainly, he thought this would be a waste of his time.
"I think she knows something about this---about the thinking behind these people."
"Oh? Sure?"
"No. But I want you to see her."
He nodded. "Tomorrow morning."
She scooped up the packet that Supina had left with them. "Toxicology reports on the first victims? I want to review these. What about details regarding the victims?"
"Just what's in there."
"Yes, all right. I'm sure the first panel reports are here." She held up the folders. "If they've missed anything, I'll do the set up for us to run tests. And we can check for whatever else you have in mind."
He nodded, relieved. Rolande, though just past 50, hated sitting still, and he hated inactivity. He liked Carrie's insistence on poring over reports and statistical information. Her preference for lab work freed him up to chase after rabbit trails of information. Actually, she thought, in spite of his protests about not being a police investigator, this legwork appealed to him.
"And I need money," she added. "How do we acquire funds for projects?"
He ruffled up his hair. "Oh, ask Jo Brandt. I think she sees to things like that."
She cocked her head. "Why?" She asked. "Isn't Miss Brandt a SAS expert?"
"Of course she is. But this is a small firm. We all do double duties on menial things."
"What's your double duty then?"
"Well I don't do double duty. I'm far too important. So are you." He grinned. "But Jo, Mike Franklin, and the intern, Tom Benton, share out some of the Admin duties when Barbara is busy."
Carrie nodded. The informality of American business often surprised her.
She went up the steps and knocked on the door of the IS department. At Mike Franklin's cheerful "Come in if you dare!" she entered.
The windowless room, kept at about 60 degrees because of the cooling demands of the servers, was paneled in darkly painted wood. The servers stood in racks against one wall, and three computer workstations stood against the opposite wall. Benton's place was empty, but Jo Brandt sat at the middle station, and Mike Franklin, head of IS, was at the other. A couple posters that proclaimed faith in the Christian religion adorned the walls. Franklin, she knew, was also a born again Christian.
Religion in Carrie's own country was always private, always sacred and quiet. Here in the States, people wore it on their t-shirts, in garish colors. They asked you to your face if you would go to heaven when you died. Carrie didn't think highly of any religion, and boorish evangelicalism offended her. She kept her tone courteous. "Miss Brandt, I was wondering if I could trouble you for some funds. Is there a requisition to fill out?"
"Yes, it's online. I can e-mail you the form," Jo Brandt said. "Is reimbursement all right?"
"Fine." She nodded. "Thank you." She backed out and closed the door.
