Storm Front

stone, everything would be somewhat perfect.”
    “I’ve got it. Jones apparently ditched it at his old farmstead, and a woman I know is tearing the place down,” Virgil said. “It popped right out of the wall.”
    “An amazing coincidence,” Davenport said. “Astonishing, really.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Virgil said. “I suspect Jones wanted it found. The money’s probably where he wanted it to go, so . . . he doesn’t care about the stone anymore. Or maybe he does care, maybe he never wanted to betray his old friends in archaeology. So he left it where we’d find it.”
    “Okay,” Davenport said. “Although, I’ve got a feeling that you haven’t looked under all the available rocks.”
    “I’ll tell you, Lucas, we really don’t want to do that. At least, not until we hear what’s finally happened with the Hatchet.”
    “Got it,” Davenport said. “Speaking of Jones, his daughter’s asking for you. She’s over at the hospital.”
    “I’ll stop this afternoon,” Virgil said. “But first, I’m gonna bring the stone up and stick it in the evidence locker, and let you geniuses figure out what to do with it. I’m done with it.”
    “See you when you get here.”
    —
    A ND HE MADE a call to Lincoln, the intelligence agent, or whatever she was. He pressed “1” on the double-secret telephone, and she answered two seconds later. “What?”
    “I thought I’d give you a chance to say, ‘Thank you,’” Virgil said.
    “Thank you.”
    “You’ve still got him?”
    “Got who?”
    “All right. I hope it works out for you,” Virgil said. “Is there any possibility that I’ll ever know how it turns out?”
    He could hear her thinking, and then she said, “I’ll tell you what, Virgil. There are some possibilities out there, where we just couldn’t talk to you. I’m not talking about us doing anything illegal, I’m just saying, there are some possibilities.”
    “Give me a hypothetical.”
    “Hypothetically, if you were in this sort of situation, say, and the target was picked up and eventually agreed to turn—”
    “Okay. I got that,” Virgil said. “But listen: if it’s just a straight bust, or you take down a group, but it doesn’t make the papers . . . give me a ring. I don’t need details, I’d just like to know what happened. How the story came out.”
    “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “I have to say, Virgil, you are a journey all of your own, and I hope you enjoy yourself in the rest of it.”
    “What do you want me to do with the secret phone?”
    “Nothing. In a day or two, it’ll turn itself off, and it’ll never come back. If you open it up, you’ll find that the electronics have been reduced to a brownish goop. I wouldn’t taste it. If, for some reason, we need to talk to you again, we’ll know where to find you.”
    “But I won’t know where to find you.”
    “That’s correct.”
    And she was gone.
    —
    W HEN HE GOT to Mankato, he found Sewickey sitting in the parking lot, in his Caddy, with the engine running. Sewickey got out and said, “Thank God. I’ve been here for four hours. I saw all that about the Mossad woman and Bauer on TV, and I figured you’d show up to talk with the Israeli.”
    “You’re looking for the photographs?” Virgil asked, remembering that he’d promised them to Sewickey, if Sewickey stayed out of Virgil’s hair.
    Sewickey said, “Exactly. I need to get back to Austin. There’re rumors that a piece of parchment has come up on Santorini that mentions a town called ‘Atalant,’ obviously a reference to Atlantis. I’m going, and right quick, but I need to get to Austin first.”
    “If you had a camera . . .”
    “I do. A brand-new one. In the Caddy,” he said.
    “I’ve got the stone, right here in the truck,” Virgil said. “Get your camera, you can take some shots, and I’ll take a couple of you examining the stone, and we’ll be all square.”
    “Virgil, you are a prince among men,” Sewickey said.
    “Not so much,” Virgil said. “I figure if you get these photographs, you’ll stick them straight up Bauer’s ass.”
    Sewickey laughed. “I will indeed. And make the oil and gas guys happy, at the same time. Who knows, maybe I’ll get my own TV show.”
    They went up to Yael’s room with the stone and made three dozen photographs, using a bedsheet as a seamless backdrop, and then a dozen more of Sewickey examining the stone with a magnifying glass, while wearing an Aussie