Caitlin smiles like a child hiding a cookie. “I also have some good news. My father called back and told me that if I was sticking by my story, there must be something to it. He’s going to help.”

“How?”

“By committing the full resources of the media group to investigating Marston and Portman. He’s already spoken to Senator Harris from Virginia. Tomorrow, Harris is going to the Senate Intelligence Committee to ask for a special resolution authorizing the opening of the Payton file. Failing that, he’ll ask that it be moved from FBI custody to a place where it can’t be tampered with, at least until Director Portman’s involvement in the case can be clarified. If that doesn’t work, he’ll stand up on the Senate floor and ask the same things on C-Span.”

I feel the relief of a man trying to push a car uphill when four strong backs join him in his effort. But the feeling vanishes quickly. “Asking that the file be opened is good. But if he can’t get that, it’s best that the file stay where it is. At least until Sunday.”

For a moment Caitlin looks confused. Then she grabs my wrist. “Lutjens is going to try for the file?”

“Sunday.”

“I’ll tell my dad to call the senator back.”

“It’s nice to have powerful friends.”

Her eyes twinkle with irony. “Isn’t it?”

Kelly laughs. He’s not sure what he’s gotten into, but he’s clearly enjoying it.

“How did Mr. Kelly here save your life?” Caitlin asks.

“He killed two guys who were trying to kill me. One was Arthur Lee Hanratty’s brother.”

“Jesus. Did this happen near the river? We heard some kind of call on the scanner, but it was coded.”

“That was it.”

“Can I print this story?”

“Absolutely. The more public this thing gets, the safer we are.”

“We ought to be very safe, then. I’m getting nonstop calls from the major papers, the networks, everybody.”

There’s a sharp knock at the door, and Caitlin walks into the hall for a hurried conference. When she returns, her face is flushed pink with excitement. “The police just trapped the Whitestone suspects in the Concord Apartments. I’m going over to cover the arrest.”

The Concord Apartments are a low-income housing development, and a center of drug and gang activity in Natchez. “The residents over there aren’t big fans of the police,” I warn her. “They’re probably as volatile as old dynamite right now.”

“That’s why I’m going. You want to come along?”

“I can’t take the time. I’ve got to file my interrogatories and requests for production along with my answer. That’ll keep Marston off balance, make him think I’m ready to go to court on a moment’s notice.”

“Speaking of Marston, where’s your other friend?”

“My other friend?”