Pete said, “Don’t decide right now. Let it sit. If I can’t deliver my end, I’ll let you know.”

Linton shook his head and backed up a step before he turned away. Pete watched as he retraced his steps, hands in his coat pockets. Wind blew spray, like a fine mist, across the breakwater, wetting the concrete so that Linton left a brief set of shoe prints in his wake.

•   •   •

The real hurdle Pete faced was talking Willard Bryce into playing his part, which was critical to the overall success of his scheme. Pete called Willard the next morning as soon as he calculated Mary Lee had left for work. They agreed on a time and Pete swung by and picked him up at the designated corner like a couple of spies. As with Linton Reed, Willard was a man who loved to self-dramatize. Why else go to such lengths when they were the only ones who gave a shit? Small talk back and forth on their way to the beach, where they parked and sat in the car.

Willard said, “I don’t understand why we had to meet. I thought our business was done. I have your report and I’ve paid you everything I owe.”

“I’ve been thinking it might be a smart move to check Mary Lee’s work space. Maybe there’s information to be picked up in a place she thinks is safe from prying eyes.”

“Stop right now. This has gone far enough.”

“Just listen to what I have to say. She feels comfortable at work, right? She’s relaxed. She assumes you have no access to the lab, so she might leave stuff around. Might be notes back and forth between her and this Pensky fellow.”

“You said there was nothing going on.”

“I said I didn’t think there was. I said there might be other explanations. All I’m saying now is it won’t hurt to look.”

“I won’t do it. How the hell would I manage that? I can’t ask for her ID and go off for an hour. Are you insane?”

“You don’t have the stomach for it, I’ll handle it myself. Here’s how I see it. There’ll be a couple of swipe locks—one to get into the building, the other to get into the lab. All you have to do is get me her ID and her PIN. You have any idea what that is?”

“It’s 1956. She uses that for everything. The ID I can’t help you with. She takes it with her when she goes to work. How else would she get in?”

“Then get it when she’s not at work,” Pete said, patiently. Willard was a moron. Did the man have no imagination?

“I never know when she’s going in. Especially lately. It could be any hour.”

“Does she sleep at night?”