Read Online Mortal Faults by Michael Prescott - Free Book Online Page B

Marshals Service and ran a keyword search on “Andrea Lowry.”
    No hits. No Andrea Lowry was listed in the WITSEC program as a real name or an alias.
    She returned to the Bureau’s own database and repeated the search. Nothing there, either. The FBI had never investigated any case involving Andrea Lowry—or if they had, the case was too recent to have been entered into the system.
    So that was that. She had kept her promise, and it had cost her nothing. She could truthfully tell Abby that Andrea Lowry, whoever she was, had not reinvented herself with the help of the federal government.
    Part of her, oddly, was disappointed. She really had wanted to help Abby. Though it was true that they’d each come to the other’s rescue in Los Angeles, Abby had taken far greater risks on Tess’s behalf.
    But if WITSEC was a dead end, there was nothing she could do. She would call Abby later, when she was safely away from the office, and give her the news.
    She had settled back to work when her intercom buzzed with word that Assistant Director Michaelson was on the line.
    Michaelson ran the L.A. field office. Tess had worked with him twice—first during the Mobius case and more recently on the Rain Man. There weren’t too many people in the Bureau she actively detested, but Richard Michaelson, known as the Nose in recognition of his most prominent facial feature, was one of the few. He was, in fact, at the top of the list.
    “Richard,” she said, putting on her best pretense of affability, “what can I do for you?”
    “You can tell me why the hell you’re interested in Andrea Lowry.”
    This was so unexpected she needed a moment to process it. “Andrea Lowry?”
    “Cut the bullshit. I just heard from Tenth Street.” The address of Bureau headquarters. “You ran a search on her.”
    “How could you—” She stopped herself. Her knowledge of computers was minimal, but even she knew that the system could be programmed to red-flag any unusual searches. Though why the name Andrea Lowry would trigger such a response she had no idea.
    “I didn’t realize Big Brother was watching me,” she said carefully.
    “Why in God’s name would you think she was in witness protection, anyway?”
    “I was just, uh, running down a long shot.”
    “It’s not your case. You shouldn’t be running down anything. How did Lowry come to your attention?”
    “I’ve heard things.”
    “From who?”
    “I believe the proper question to ask is: from
whom
. I’m not at liberty to divulge my sources. Maybe you’d like tell me who called you from Washington?”
    He simmered. She was happy to let him think she knew more than she did. He might not call her bluff.
    “If you have any leads, solid or not, pertaining to Andrea Lowry,” he said after a moment, “you’d better damn well hand them over to us. We’re running the investigation. It’s our project.”
    “I don’t remember you being such a glory hog, Richard.”
    “Glory?” He snorted. “You think I
want
MEDEA? Goddamn thing is so hot it’s radioactive.”
    MEDEA. The code name of the case, presumably. Usually cases had unimaginative code names, shortened to facilitate computer entry. THERMCON, for
Therm
ite
con
spiracy. UNABOM, for
un
iversity and
a
irline
bom
bings. Occasionally someone would get more creative. One name she’d always liked was CASTAWAY, a mob-related investigation aimed at putting a Mr. Paul Castellano away. That one had a certain charm.
    And now MEDEA. Somebody had been in a mythological frame of mind when coming up with that one. Who was Medea, anyway? Some figure in Greek mythology. Tess had been given a thorough exposure to the classics in parochial school, but all she remembered about Medea was that she played a role in the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece.
    “Come on now.” She tried a little fishing. “You’ve never been afraid of a high-profile case.”
    “Ordinarily that’s true. But when it’s political ...”
    “Politics is your