“There were two victims,” Lance said. “The young man was an FBI agent, finishing up a law degree at Yale. His last class was on criminal appeals. U.S. Marshals have the authority to question victims of and witnesses to federal crimes, and murdering an FBI agent is a federal crime.”

“How do we know the guy was FBI? It’s not mentioned in the story.”

“I have other means of knowing it,” Lance replied.

“I like it,” Dino said. “Is there any way the use of this badge can come back to bite me on the ass?”

“Only if you commit a federal crime while wearing it,” Lance said. “I suppose.”

“Who was the federal judge who appointed us?” Stone asked.

“It’s all in your commissioning document, in the envelope,” Lance replied. “She’s an old friend. Of the Agency.”

Stone took this as a denial that Lance had had, sometime in the past, carnal knowledge of a woman who, later, became a federal judge.

“Well, now,” Lance said, “I suppose there is nothing impeding your questioning the young lady in question. I’ve texted you her contact information, and I’ll be dying to know what she has to tell you.”

“I suppose,” Stone said, “that being United States Marshals doesn’t prevent us questioning her electronically, as on the telephone?”

“I suppose,” Lance said. “That would obviate a trip to New Haven, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Stone agreed.

“If you would conduct this questioning by speakerphone, it would save you the necessity of relating to me what she said, or even of taking notes. Though a recording couldn’t hurt.”

“Let’s make use of the cone of silence, shall we?” Stone said, leading the way to Dick Stone’s little office. The three of them entered the office, followed by Lance, Primmy, and Viv, who arranged themselves while Stone dialed the number he had been given.

27

Stone called the number, and the phone was answered by a young woman.

“May I speak with Carly Riggs, please?”

“Who’s calling?”

“This is United States Marshal Stone Barrington,” he replied, “and my partner, Dino Bacchetti.”

“You’re from the press, aren’t you?”

“I assure you, we are not. We are both duly appointed marshals.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’m a law student, nearly a graduate, and every law student knows that Dino Bacchetti is the police commissioner of New York City.”

“Would you like for Marshal Bacchetti to confirm his identity personally?”

“Yes.”

Stone handed the phone to Dino.

“This is Dino Bacchetti. To whom am I speaking?”

“You’re Dino Bacchetti, who I heard speak at Yale Law last semester, and you don’t even know who you are calling?”

Stone handed Dino the paper with the woman’s name.

“You are Carly Riggs?”

“I am. Why did it take you two guesses?”

“He’s a little slow,” Stone said.