Riptide

stronger than a bull. Meaner, too. He didn't look like a
    computer nerd. Whatever that was supposed to mean nowadays.
    "So,"Thomas said,"you're Buck's son."
    "Yes," Savich said and grinned. "I know what you're thinking.
    My dad was all blond and fair, a regular aristocrat with a thin
    straight nose and high cheekbones. I look like my mom. You can
    bet that my dad was always pissed about that. I never had my dad's
    smart-ass mouth, either. That pissed him as well."

"Your dad could charm the widow's peak off a fascist general and
    outwit a Mafia don. He was an excellent man and friend,"Thomas
    said, eyeing the man. "I wasn't expecting you to bring anyone else."
    He found himself clearing his throat when Savich didn't immediately
    respond. "This is all rather confidential, Mr. Savich. Actually,
    it's all extremely confidential, there's a life at stake and--"
    Savich said easily, "Where I go Sherlock goes, sir. We're a package
    deal. Shall we continue or would you like to call this off?"
    The young woman didn't say a word. She didn't even change
    expressions. She just cocked her head to one side and waited, very
    quietly, silent. A professional to her toes, Thomas thought, just like
    her husband.
    Thomas said then, "Is your name really Sherlock?"
    She laughed. "Yes. My father's a federal judge in San Francisco.
    Can you imagine what the crooks are feeling when they're hauled
    in front of him--Judge Sherlock?"
    "Please sit down, both of you. I'm grateful that you came, Mr.
    Savich."
    "Just Savich will do fine."
    "All right. I understand you head up the CAU--the Criminal
    Apprehension Unit--at the FBI. I know you use computers and
    protocols you yourself designed and programmed. And with some
    success. Naturally, I really don't fully understand what it is that
    happens."
    Savich ordered iced tea from the hovering waiter, waited for the
    others to order as well, then leaned forward. "Like the Profiling
    Unit, or ISU, we also deal with local agencies who think an outside eye just might see something they missed on a local crime. Normally
    murder cases. Also like the ISU, we only go in when we're asked.
    "Unlike the ISU, we're entirely computer-based. We use special
    programs to help us look at crimes from many different angles. The

programs correlate all the data from two or more crimes that seem
    to have been committed by the same person. We call the main program
    PAP, the Predictive Analogue Program. Of course, what an
    agent feeds into the program will determine what comes out.
    Nothing new in that at all."
    Sherlock said, "All of it is Dillon's brainchild. He worked on all
    the protocols. It's amazing how the computer can turn up patterns, weird correlations, ways of looking at things that we wouldn't have
    considered. Of course, like Dillon said, we have to put the data in
    there in order to get the patterns, the correlations, the anomalies
    that can point a finger in the right direction.
    "Then we look at the possible outcomes and alternatives the
    computer gives us, act on many of them. You said Buck Savich was
    an excellent friend. How did you know Buck Savich, sir?"
    "Thank you for the explanation. It's fascinating, and about time,
    I say. Technology should catch crooks, not let the crooks diddle society
    with the technology. Yes, Buck Savich was an incredible man.
    I knew him professionally. Tough, smart, fearless. The practical
    jokes he used to pull had the higher-ups in the Bureau screaming
    and laughing at the same time. I was very sorry to hear about his
    death."
    Savich nodded, waiting.
    Thomas Matlock sipped his iced tea. He needed to know more
    about these two. He said easily, "I remember the String Killer case.
    That was an amazing bit of work."
    "It wasn't at all typical," Savich said. "We got the guy. He's dead.
    It's over." Then he looked at his wife, and Thomas saw something
    that suddenly made him aware of the extraordinary bond between
    them. There was a flash of incredible fear in Savich's eyes, followed
    by a wash of relief and so much gratitude that it went all the way to
    Thomas's gut. He should have had that bond with Allison, but one

stray bullet in a woman's head had put an end to that possibility forever.
    Thomas cleared his throat, his mind made up. These two were
    bright, young, dedicated. He needed them. "Thank you for explaining
    more about your unit. I guess there's nothing more to do
    except tell you exactly what's going on. My only favor--and I
    must have your agreement on this--if