Riptide

gills."

"Not a thing, Adam. It's Agent Hawley and Agent Cobb. Let's
    see what they have to say. I suppose they're sworn to secrecy about
    where they've come from?"
    Adam said as he walked toward the front door, "They would be
    drawn and quartered if they ever opened their mouths."
    Adam shook the two men's hands and stepped back. Tellie Hawley
    said, "It's good to see you again, Adam. Mr. Matlock, Ms. Matlock.
    Bet you're wondering how we got ourselves assigned to this."
    "It did cross my mind," Thomas said, as he waved them toward
    the living room.
    "Boy, it's hot out there," Scratch Cobb said, gave Becca a big smile,
    and unbuttoned his black suit coat one button. "A very nice house,"
    Scratch added to Thomas as he walked beside him into the living
    room. He was looking at a particularly lovely old Tabriz carpet.
    "Thank you,Agent Cobb," Thomas said. "Won't you be seated?"
    After everyone was settled, Agent Hawley said, "Since we were
    the ones who initially spoke to Ms. Matlock in the hospital, and
    since I knew you, sir, Mr. Bushman decided we should stay on as
    the leads. Of course Savich and Sherlock are on it as well, and he
    approves of that. It doesn't mean, of course, that the folk here at
    FBI headquarters are sitting on their hands. They're not."
    Thomas nodded. "No, they never do. I'm very sorry about the
    agents Krimakov murdered in New York, Hawley. It's got to be an
    awful blow."
    Tellie Hawley turned pale, then just as suddenly he flushed red
    with anger. "The bastard killed four more people in cold blood.
    He just waltzed into the hospital--God knows how he was disguised
    --and he killed the two agents guarding her room, then
    went inside and put six shots in Agent Marlane and three more
    shots in Dels head. How did he get away? We don't know. Damnation,
    it's driving everyone nuts. His aged photo is plastered every

where. We've got dozens of agents walking around a mile radius of
    NYU Hospital showing' everyone his photo. Nothing yet." He
    stopped and Becca could feel the pain, the guilt, the rage, radiating
    from him, spilling out in waves. He'd been the one in charge, the
    one giving orders. She wouldn't want to be in his shoes. She felt
    guilty enough in her own shoes.
    Sam. Oh God, Sam. What to do?
    She watched Tellie Hawley get himself together. He cleared his
    throat, looked directly at her, and said, "Now, Ms. Matlock, we're
    here to speak to you in detail about your time with him."
    "I'm very sorry, Agent Hawley, but I've told you everything I
    know. I wish there were more but I just can't come up with anything
    else, even irrelevant."
    Agent Hawley sat forward in his chair, his hands dangling between
    his legs. "The mind is a marvelous instrument, Ms. Matlock.
    It takes in stuff you're not even aware of. We're betting you do
    know more about Krimakov. You just don't remember it on a conscious
    level. We're hoping it's lurking in your subconscious. Ah,
    Agent Cobb here is an expert hypnotist. He'd like to take you under,
    really get at what this guy was like, maybe even what he looked
    like. You know, stuff you've blocked out or you're not even aware
    that you know, stuff you just can't bring up to a conscious level."
    Agent Cobb handed her the old photo of Krimakov. "You've
    seen this?"
    "Yes, of course. My father showed it to me immediately, the
    aged photo as well. I've studied and studied it. I'm sorry, but I just
    don't know if it's him. I never saw him. He was always in the
    shadows."
    "Look again at the aged photo."
    She took it, studied it yet again. She still saw an older man,
    whose face was lean and deeply tanned from years of living on the

Mediterranean. His hair had receded, leaving two deep slashes of
    tanned scalp on either side of a spear of gray hair. His eyes were
    dark, his features Slavic, wide, flat cheekbones. He looked like he
    could be a very nice grandfather. And she wondered: Is that you?
    Are you the one who took me from Jacob Marley's house? Did you
    lick my cheek? She handed Agent Cobb back the photo. "I have
    thought and thought. I really don't consciously remember anything
    more. I'm willing to go under."
    "Are you sure, Becca? You don't have to."
    She glanced toward her father, who was standing behind a chair,
    looking at her intently. She didn't know that very handsome man
    with all those expressions on his face that she didn't understand,
    but then, she realized that she did know him; on a very deep level,
    she knew him quite well. It was a very strange