Cold Dark Matter. Alex Brett

T-shirt a dark topaz. It brought out the amber flecks in his eyes, something I'm sure he was well aware of. To put it bluntly, he looked good and I was out of chips. I had nothing left to lose.

      "Grenier kept diaries. They're missing. That's why Duncan sent me here."

      Benson eyes narrowed momentarily as he processed that information, then his expression opened and he gave me a radiant smile. "You know, O'Brien, you look a little uncomfortable. Do you need to use the bathroom? I'll tell you what. There's a nice private ladies' room right down the hall. Officer Yates will take you down there, then you come back and maybe we can finish up this conversation."

      He got up and walked right beneath the video camera. "Can you come in here?" he said up to it. Then he turned to me. "You won't try to run off, will you? It's a small island."

      "Show me a toilet with a door, and you have me in the palm of your hand." Just as you knew you did, you prick, I thought.

      When I came back Benson was still sitting on the bed. Now, though, he looked more at ease. He was leaning back on his elbows and had one leg crossed over the other. When he saw me he stood up and met me halfway across the floor. Then he did something unexpected. He discreetly put his hand on my forearm, a silent warning to trust him. He waited until the uniform had disappeared out of the cells then turned quickly to me. He pulled something from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. "I found this in a sweep of your car."

      It was a small black disk: a listening device, also known as a bug. What the hell was it doing in my car? I looked up at him completely baffled, but he gave me a warning glance and stepped back. The uniform came through the door and stopped below the video camera. She reached up.

      "I've lost video." She fished around the back. There was a click and the red light above the electric eye went back on. "What the hell?" The question was addressed half to Benson and half to herself.

      "End of tape," he said, his voice offhand. "It does that sometimes, triggers the automatic turnoff."

      She cocked her head and looked at him. "It's a loop."

      "It still clicks over. Sometimes the mechanism just gets confused."

      Man, this guy could lie without even a quiver. When the uniform had gone back out I asked in a neutral voice. "So where do we go from here?"

      He turned and started to gather up the stuff on desk. "You go wherever you want. I go back upstairs to my desk."

      I stood there stupidly, not comprehending. Minutes ago I was about to be charged. "I'm free?"

      He slipped the ink strip in the bag. Then he looked at it, then me, with innocent surprise. "You didn't think it was for you, did you? It's for the guy next door. You?" He slipped the form into the bag as well. He let a beat pass then looked me directly in the eye. "You have friends in high places. You've been sprung, no charges laid. Have an excellent day."

      Outside in the car I gave myself a nanosecond to think. First the disappearing Duncan, then a bug in my car, then being sprung by a mystery phone call from someone with pull. It didn't make sense, particularly on zero hours of sleep. Still, there were a few little details I needed to confirm. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed Duncan's house. There was no answer and no voice mail. The second call was to the director of the school that Duncan's children, Alyssa and Peter, attended. I was listed as an emergency contact for the kids so I knew that she'd talk to me.

      "Alyssa and Peter?" she said, surprised. "But they're not here. I understand they'll be away for some time."

      I felt my chest constrict. "Since when?"

      "Dr. Carmichael called in this morning. Some sort of family emergency. He didn't say when they'd be back. I do hope it's nothing too serious."

      I looked out the window. A palm tree next to the car rustled and bent in the wind.

      The first thing I did was hit a bank machine. I took out the maximum daily limit and walked away. Next, I took the SUV, which now felt like it had a giant neon flag waving above its roof, and wove through the streets of Kona, first driving conspicuously down the main tourist drag along the beach, then climbing onto the smaller streets above. There I spent half an hour slinking down alleys, squeezing through one-way lanes, and pulling around blind corners to see what might follow me up. When I was sure I didn't have a tail I pulled into a vast public parking lot behind the tourist strip, pulled my briefcase and all other personal items out of the car, and descended into the clots of humanity on the sidewalk below. I did a little shopping, bought shades, a sun hat, and a few different T-shirts. I moseyed along the street, stopping frequently to survey the human throng, and made several abrupt changes in direction and destination. Paranoia was driving my actions.