Phelps led them into a large walk-in cooler, turned on the lights, and closed the door. Modular stainless-steel shelving units lined the walls. A few black body bags occupied several slots.

“These three,” Phelps said. He unzipped the bags enough to expose ashen Hispanic faces.

Nathan stepped forward for a closer look. “May I?”

Phelps backed up a step. “If you’re planning anything more than just viewing, I’ll have to log it.”

“No, nothing like that. I’d just want to see if they have any tattoos or other distinguishing marks.” He unzipped the bags. “Harv, take a look.” He pointed at one of the bodies, specifically at a tattoo on a shoulder. The letter S was written across the outline of a dagger.

“Does that tattoo mean something to you?” Phelps asked.

“Yes,” Nathan said. “Can you tell us what you know about this case?”

“At this point we don’t have much, but it seems to have the attention of some very important people. The director of the FBI called me last night just after the bodies arrived. I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that as far as the media are concerned, this shooting is nothing more than a random armed robbery attempt.”

“Interesting,” Harv said.

“Would either of you care to enlighten me?”

Nathan removed his ball cap and turned his head to the side.

“Is that what I think it is? That was your house? You were there with Sacramento’s SAC?”

“Look, David,” Harv said, “like the FBI director, we need to keep this under wraps. A very dangerous person tried to kill Nathan last night. We think he’ll try again.”

Phelps frowned, his body tightening.

“We weren’t followed.”

“Is my staff in danger by having these bodies in here?”

A reasonable question, Nathan thought.

“No,” Harv said, “absolutely not. The man these dead guys worked for doesn’t give a damn about them.”

Phelps said nothing.

Nathan zipped the body bags closed. “I’m sorry we can’t tell you more.”

“I can’t share everything on cases I work on either. We have to keep certain aspects of crimes secret to rule out false confessions. You know the drill.”

“We do,” Harv said. “You’re a stand-up guy, David. I appreciate it. Will you please keep our visit here confidential?”

Phelps said he would and escorted them to the exit. They thanked him again and stepped out.

Walking back to Harv’s Mercedes, Nathan spoke quietly. “At least this confirms they were Montez’s men.”

“Versus federal agents?” Harv whispered back.

“I know, it wasn’t likely, but I needed to be sure.” Nathan paused. “Don’t look at me like that. Do you believe everything Cantrell told us?”

Harv sighed. “So far, yeah, I do. But only because she told us so damned little. You know the CIA.”

“That’s what worries me.”

Chapter 25

Chapter  25

On the drive back to La Jolla, his phone rang. Holly.