Triple Threat

city of…” No, if she followed those lines of questioning, she’d use up all the questions just asking about the many towns and unincorporated areas in Monterey County. “Will it be near the water?”
    “Sloppy question. Expect better from you Ms. Firecracker. Do-over. Near the
what
?”
    Stupid of her, Dance realized, her heart pounding. There were a number of bodies of water and rivers in the area. And don’t ask about the ocean. Technically, Monterey wasn’t on the Pacific. “Will it be within a half mile of Monterey Bay?”
    “Good!” he said, enjoying himself. “Yes. That was nine. Almost halfway there.”
    And she could see he was telling the truth completely. Every answer was delivered according to his kinesic baseline.
    “Do you and Gabe Paulson have a partner helping you in the event?”
    One eyebrow rose. “Yes. Number ten. You’re halfway to saving all them poor folks, Kathryn.”
    “Is the third person a member of the Brothers of Liberty?”
    “Yes. Eleven.”
    She was thinking hard, unsure how to finesse the partner’s existence into helpful information. She changed tack. “Do the victims need tickets to get into the venue?”
    “Twelve. I want to play fair. I honestly don’t know. But they did have to sign up and pay. That’s more than I should give you, but I’m enjoying this.” And indeed it seemed that Keplar was.
    She was beginning to form some ideas.
    “Is the venue a tourist attraction?”
    “Thirteen. Yes, I’d say so. At least near tourist attractions.”
    Now she felt safe using one of her geographical questions. “Is it in the city of Monterey?”
    “No. Fourteen.”
    “Carmel?”
    “No. Fifteen.”
    Dance kept her own face neutral. What else should she be asking? If she could narrow it down a bit more, and if Michael O’Neil and his crime scene team came up with other details, they might cobble together a clear picture of where the attack would take place then evacuate every building in the area.
    “How you doing there, Kathryn? Feeling the excitement of a good game? I sure am.” He looked at the clock. Dance did, too. Hell, time had sped by during this exchange. It was now 2:42.
    She didn’t respond to his question, but tried a different tack. “Do your close friends know what you’re doing?”
    He frowned. “You want to use question sixteen for that? Well, your choice. Yes.”
    “Do they approve?”
    “Yes, all of them. Seventeen. Getting all you need here, Kathryn? Seems you’re getting off track.”
    But she wasn’t. Dance had another strategy. She was comfortable with the information she had—tourist area, near the water, a paid-for event, Christmas related, a few other facts—and with what O’Neil found, she hoped they could narrow down areas to evacuate. Now she was hoping to convince him to confess by playing up the idea raised earlier. That by averting the attack he’d still score some good publicity but wouldn’t have to go to jail forever or die by lethal injection. Even if she lost the Twenty Questions game, which seemed likely, she was getting him to think about the people he was close to, friends and family he could still spend time with—if he stopped the attack.
    “And family—do your siblings approve?”
    “Question eighteen. Don’t have any. I’m an only child. You only got two questions left, Kathryn. Spend ‘em wisely.”
    Dance hardly heard the last sentences. She was stunned.
    Oh, no…
    His behavior when he’d made the comment about not having siblings—a bald lie—was identical to that of the baseline.
    During the entire game he’d been lying.
    Their eyes met. “Tripped up there, didn’t I?” He laughed hard. “We’re off the grid so much, didn’t think you knew about my family. Shoulda been more careful.”
    “Everything you just told me was a lie.”
    “Thin air. Whole cloth. Pick your cliché, Ms. Firecracker. Had to run the clock. There’s nothing on God’s green earth going to save those people.”
    She understood now what a waste of time this had been. Wayne Keplar was probably incapable of being kinesically analyzed. The Ten Commandments Principle didn’t apply in his case. Keplar felt no more stress lying than he did telling the truth. Like serial killers and schizophrenics, political extremists often feel they are doing what’s right, even if those acts are criminal or reprehensible to others. They’re convinced of their own moral rectitude.
    “Look at it from my perspective. Sure, we