matched. And they have nothing to do with the barrel. This has to be the gun used in the homicides.”
“Good enough. I’m just tying up some loose ends. Let me have the serial number on the barrel. For the office records.” After writing it down, Vail hung up and handed Kate the phone. “Call the armorer at Quantico and see if this is the barrel that was in Bertok’s gun when it was issued to him.” He handed her the slip of paper with the serial number on it.
Kate called Quantico and was put through to the armorer. She read him the serial number and, after five minutes, said thank you and hung up. “You were right. That is not the barrel that was originally in Bertok’s weapon. It all makes sense. Whoever did this committed the first three murders with a Glock 22 of their own, kidnapped Bertok, took his issue gun, and switched the barrel from the first three murders into his Glock. Then they committed the fourth murder with Bertok’s gun and left the casing because it would now match. Shot at you with the gun before escaping out the rigged window, and they had already placed Bertok’s body in here. Then they just had to leave the gun behind, which tied up all loose ends.” A look of revelation creased her features. “Which means that if all this was staged, the key in the moneybag can’t be anything more than another wild-goose chase.”
She looked at him to confirm her theory, but he was taking out fingerprint powder and a brush from the evidence kit. He dusted the white window frame with black powder. “Nothing there,” he said.
Then he took off the casing and dusted the metal release mechanism. “And nothing there. So much for a quick solution.”
Vail packed up the kit and took it out to the car. They got in and Kate asked, “What do we do now?”
“Do you have any contacts at ATF?”
“I could make a call to headquarters and find one.”
“We need a factory trace on the barrel.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll have to see where that leads us.”
“Is it me, or are we losing ground?”
“Well, let’s see. We now have five murders, we’re short four million nine hundred thousand plus, and we’re still being played like a whorehouse piano.” He smiled. “I’d say we’ve got them right where we want them.”
SEVENTEEN
THEY HAD BEEN DRIVING FOR ALMOST A HALF HOUR WHEN KATE cracked her window to let the warm sunny air stream across her face. It felt good against the cool artificial flow being pumped so uniformly throughout the car. She needed some sort of sensory feedback to separate the real from the staged. She, like everyone else, had been taken in by the Pentad’s plan to blame Stan Bertok for the murders. She let her mind find its way through the twists and turns of the case, looking for any inconsistency that the FBI would eventually have picked up on to lead them to the truth. She was not sure there were any. In the end, the money would not have been found, and the search for it would have become no more than a frustration eventually downgrading to a mild curiosity as everyone thankfully moved on to new priorities. She closed the window and looked back at Vail. He glanced at her with an absentminded smile. He didn’t seem to appreciate what he had done. Then a more immediate downside of the discovery hit her. “Do you want to tell Don about Bertok or should I do it?”
“You’re the one who has to keep him happy.”
“We swallowed the Pentad’s frame hook, line, and sinker. I’m pretty sure that’s not going to make him happy. Until a half hour ago, this case, minus the money, was solved. Now we’ve got another murdered agent, no suspects, and not the slightest idea where the money is.”
“Then give him Pendaran. If he has someone to go after, it’ll take some of the sting out of being wrong about Bertok.”
“What about tracing the gun barrel? We can’t really tell him about Stan Bertok without explaining what we’ve found out about his gun.”
“Give that to him too.”
She looked at him quizzically. “You’re suddenly generous.” She let it hang in the air to see if Vail would respond. When he didn’t, she said, “I know you like to keep the best lead to work on yourself. Giving up both Pendaran and the gun will leave you nothing. Unless you’re keeping something