“I know—and then his son dies while live-streaming his suicide. He’s on a committee that’s examining the practicality of instituting quantum encryption capabilities in our military networks. With all that we know about this form of sending data, it’s unhackable. There might be something there. I’m going to keep looking into it.”

“Listen,” I said, “I found evidence that a blogger and freelance journalist named Thomas Kewley from Baltimore took his own life. Based on my conversation with Calvin, Kewley was likely onto the Matchmaker when it happened.”

“Hmm . . . Have you heard anything more from Werjonic?”

“No, not since we spoke at lunch. I tried calling him a little while ago, but he didn’t pick up.”

Ralph saw me straightening my tie instead of loosening it, which would’ve been more natural for me to do at this time of day.

He looked at me quizzically.

“Big date with Christie,” I explained. “Welcoming her back to the city.”

“Nice. When this is all over, maybe the four of us can get together—you, Christie, Brin, and me.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hey, you don’t by any chance know where Sasha is, do you?”

“The last time I saw her was about an hour ago. She was working with Greer on the Selzucaine connection.”

“Yeah. I wanted to speak with her about that. I pulled up a number of leads on who the major distributors are along the East Coast.”

“Check in with Greer at his office. It’s on the eighteenth floor. She’s probably up there.”

“Gotcha.”

“By the way, you ever hear of Vidocq?” I asked.

“What’s that, some yoga pose? Yogurt brand? Some sort of French cheese?”

“A French detective, actually. He lived about two hundred years ago. Calvin bought me a book of his memoirs. Calvin seemed to indicate that it has something to do with the case, but I’m not sure what that might be.”

We left my office, and Ralph walked beside me toward the elevator bay.

“Hey,” he said. “How well do you know Greer?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. A vibe.”

“A vibe?”

“Okay, we’ll call it a gut feeling. And not a good one.”

“I’m not a big believer in gut feelings.”

“I know.”

“Did he do something to make you suspicious?”

“No. Nothing in particular.”

“I don’t know him extremely well, but he’s a straight shooter. I trust him.”

“Alright. That’s enough for me.”

We reached the elevators.

“Say hi to Christie for me.”

“Will do. Keep me up to speed.”

A nod.

“And let me know what you find out from Sasha,” I added.

“I will.”

++++

free

wonder

thinking losing spinning memory turning once again.

briskly fading go season’s viewing sharply they blur now unfocused again . . .

The words tilted and jumbled through Timothy’s head. All a mess. Nonsense.

Or maybe not.