Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

another restroom he sat in a stall, shredded the rental contract and fake ID, and flushed until there was nothing but water. Since no one was in the restroom, he rinsed the last of the hair color out in one of the sinks.
    Duffel in hand, Kirby caught a shuttle to the west economy parking lot, where he’d left his own car. He would be back at the hotel in time for dinner.

Chapter 44
    Scottsdale
    Friday
    7:00 P.M .
    Doug pushed back from the clever yet cramped desk space in the motor coach, glared at Sam, and wished that Ted Sizemore lived in the deepest part of hell. A sealed part. No possibility of communication.
    Especially with SSA Patrick Kennedy.
    “You’re late,” Doug said.
    “Traffic,” Sam said.
    “Yeah, yeah. Everybody talks about it and nobody does anything about it. Shit.” Doug drummed his fingers on the desk. “We’ve got a problem.”
    Sam didn’t figure it was the traffic. “Sizemore?”
    “We look like horses’ asses. That’s the problem.”
    “And Sizemore looks better?” Sam asked. “Did anyone in the FBI know when the courier was due?”
    “We’re trying to find out. As close as Kennedy and Sizemore are…” Doug grimaced. “Who the hell can be sure? This has clusterfuck written all over it.”
    Sam didn’t argue. He’d been thinking the same long before the crime strike force reached Scottsdale.
    “Level with me about your CI,” Doug said, pinning Sam with a bleak look. “Did she know?”
    “No.”
    “That quick?”
    “Yes.”
    “We found a red wig in the parking lot. Know anything about it?”
    “Should I?”
    Doug’s hand slammed down on the desk. “Don’t fuck with me on this one.”
    “If anything goes on official records anywhere, my CI will be targeted by the same man who did the Purcells.”
    Doug became very still. “You’re certain of that?”
    “As certain as I can be without attending a funeral.”
    “Are you saying that the murderer wears a badge? Is that why you don’t want your CI’s name known to the FBI?”
    Sam chose his words very carefully. “I don’t know.”
    Doug waited.
    So did Sam.
    “You’re heading for some time off without pay,” Doug said flatly. “Talk to me.”
    “I need your word that you won’t tell anyone. And that includes Kennedy. Otherwise I’ll take the time off without pay and the nastygram in my file and any other punishment the Bureau dreams up.”
    “Shit. I don’t believe it. Colton is right. You’re fucking your CI.”
    “No.”
    Sam figured the fact that he’d like to jump Kate was none of the FBI’s business. If he wondered how long it would be before he took her up on the invitation in her eyes, well, that was his problem.
    There was a long silence.
    “Colton is saying that the redhead he saw you with is your CI,” Doug said finally.
    “It’s a free country. Even jackasses get to bray.”
    Another long silence.
    “Okay,” Doug said. “Nothing we say leaves this room. And Christ help us both if Kennedy finds out. Now sit the hell down. I’m tired of looking up at you.”
    Sam took some files off a chair and sat on the edge of it. He was a long way from being relieved or relaxed. He trusted Doug with his life, but he hated having to trust Doug with Kate’s.
    “My CI saw this coming after the parking lot shootout,” Sam said. “She gave me permission to tell you and no one else. I told her you would keep your word.”
    Doug heard the rest of what wasn’t said: if Doug went back on his word, he and Sam would sort it out personally rather than sniping at each other through the FBI bureaucracy.
    “You sure you aren’t sleeping with her?” Doug asked.
    “Damn sure.”
    “But you want to.”
    “If the Bureau starts cracking down on ‘want to,’ we won’t be able to field a single agent.”
    Doug almost smiled. “Did your CI know about the shipment today?” he asked for the second time.
    “No.”
    “Did you?”
    “No.”
    “Then how do you explain the fact that you were in the parking lot with a woman wearing a disguise?”
    “Bad luck. Or good luck, depending on your point of view. Bad luck in that she was nearly killed. Good luck in that the courier would have bled out before he was discovered.”
    “You’ll take an oath that it was a coincidence that you were in the parking lot when the attempted robbery went down?” Doug asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Hard to believe.”
    “Why? If coincidences didn’t happen, we wouldn’t have a name for them. Hell, we have agents coming