He removed the bug-detection equipment from the leather case and began a careful sweep of the apartment. Proficiency at detecting and removing listening devices was critical in the executive protection business. Fleming had the most advanced equipment made, which was out of the price range of all but the wealthiest private citizens. Desh found two wireless bugs and placed them in a soundproof container he pulled from the case. Smith had assured Desh he would kill all bugs immediately. Desh didn’t believe him for an instant.
Desh changed into his own pants, pulled his cell phone from the pocket where it had spent the night, checked it for messages, and rearmed himself. He retrieved his windbreaker and zipped it over the gray sweatshirt to hide his shoulder holster. His shirt and undershirt had been cut from his body the night before and were ruined. He gathered them up, along with the sweatpants, and piled them nearby for later disposal.
This completed, Desh gently shook Griffin until he began to stir.
Griffin opened his eyes and appeared to be in a fog, struggling to make sense of the man standing before him. Finally, a name and a context must have swum into place to match the face. “David Desh?” he mumbled drunkenly in disbelief.
“Yeah. It’s me. Time to wake up.”
“Why am I on the floor?” he asked, confused.
“How do you feel?”
Griffin’s brain hadn’t quite finished rebooting and his responses were slow. “Great,” he said at last, almost in surprise. “Never felt better.”
Desh nodded. Kira Miller had assured him this would be the case and in this, at least, she hadn’t lied.
While Griffin roused himself and finally got up, Desh made a pot of coffee. Several minutes later Griffin joined Desh at his kitchen table, sipping the coffee gratefully.
“You had a visitor last night,” began Desh. “Do you remember anything about it?”
Griffin searched his mind but finally shook his head in frustration. “Not a thing.”
“It was Kira Miller.”
“Kira Miller!” repeated Griffin in alarm.
“Don’t worry. She just knocked you out and left. She used a benign drug. You’ll be fine. And she won’t trouble you again, I guarantee it.”
“What did she want?”
“Me.”
Griffin looked at Desh as if seeing him for the first time. “You really look like hell, you know that?”
Desh smiled weakly. Given that he was sleep deprived, unshaven, uncombed, and had spent part of the night inside the trunk of a car, he didn’t doubt it. “Thanks. I feel like hell too.”
“What happened to you? And what are you doing here now?” Griffin scratched his head. “For that matter, if she was after you, why knock me out?”
“I’d love to answer all of your questions, Matt, but I really can’t.” He held out his hands helplessly.
“Look, David, this secrecy crap has to go. My apartment was broken into and I was knocked out. I’m up to my ass in this. I need to know what’s going on.”
Desh sighed. “You make a good point,” he said. “Maybe at some point I’ll tell you everything, but not right now. There’s too much going on and I don’t know who to trust. It’s better for both of us if you don’t know any more than you do already.”
“Then find yourself another hacker,” snapped Griffin.
“I don’t blame you for being angry,” said Desh sympathetically. “A known psychopath and murderer has attacked you, and you want to know what you’ve gotten yourself into. But I’m asking you to trust me. Eventually, I’ll tell you everything.” He paused. “And I’ll throw in a fifty percent bonus as hazard pay for what you’ve already gone through.”
“You can’t spend money when you’re dead,” noted Griffin, unimpressed.
“I’ll see to your safety,” Desh assured him. “This was a one time thing. It won’t happen again.”
Griffin eyed him skeptically but finally nodded. “Okay—for now at least,” he added cautiously.
“Good. Now that that’s settled,” said Desh, changing the subject rapidly so Griffin wouldn’t have time to reconsider, “I want you to find everything there is to know about Kira Miller. If it’s accessible by computer, I want it. School records, guidance counselor notes, scholarly articles, books she buys online—hell for that matter anything she buys online, from perfume to paperclips. I told you about the two teachers from Middlebrook, her high school alma mater. One was murdered and the other went missing about sixteen years or so ago. Find anything you can about this. Newspaper articles, police reports; everything. I want to build as complete a profile of her as is humanly possible.”
Griffin studied him carefully. “All right,” he said reluctantly. “As long as we’re still trying to find a mass murderer, I’m willing to take some personal risk. But this had better not veer off into questionable territory,” he warned. He pointed to the plaque on his desk. “Remember, I use my skills for good only.”
“And that’s what I like about you, Matt,” said Desh smoothly. He sighed. “While you’re working on this assignment, do you mind if I crash on your couch? I’m exhausted. The prospect of driving home right now without any sleep is looking pretty bleak.”
“Mi sofa es su sofa,” responded Griffin, his amiable self once again.