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lost to the Giants, he ate, rinsed his dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher—not a complicated process when he’d drunk the beer direct from the bottle and the pizza had arrived encased in cardboard. When the kitchen was returned to its usual sterile state, he checked his mail and scanned the newspaper.
    A story on the second page caught his attention. The column was small, the details sketchy. Sourced from a piece published in a local Shreveport paper after the death of Ben Fischer, the article rehashed the scandal surrounding the Nordika —a ship that had been hijacked out of the port of Lubek on the Baltic Sea near the end of the Second World War. The wreck sunk off the coast of Costa Rica, had become central in the investigation into both the Chavez cartel and the cabal, and had been the scene of the mass murder of the team of Navy divers that Todd Fischer, Sara’s uncle and Ben Fischer’s brother, had commanded.
    The article mentioned the fact that Ben had brought back possessions belonging to Todd Fischer. Marc had been aware that Ben had gone to Costa Rica to assist in the search for his brother and the seven other missing divers, but to hisknowledge, he hadn’t brought anything back. If he had, Todd’s son, Steve, a CIA agent, who had been active in the recent investigation, would have received the items and Marc would have known about it.
    If Ben had brought items back and concealed them, there could only be one reason: they would somehow have added fuel to the scandal and disgrace surrounding the disappearances. If that was the case, then the items were undoubtedly connected to the investigation, and he needed to see them.
    But that wasn’t all that worried him.
    If Ben had brought back material that could provide a lead in the ongoing investigation, then he wasn’t the only one who would be interested in that fact. Lopez and Helene Reichmann—the head of the cabal—would have a stake in recovering what could be incriminating evidence.
    There was also another angle. No documentation pertaining to the cache of looted gold, artwork and artifacts the Nordika was purported to have carried had ever been found but, thanks to the media, the legend was now public knowledge. Despite the fact that the Navy had dived on the wreck a number of times and grid searched thearea, and that the Nordika was now cleared for recreational diving, the treasure hunters were still lining up.
    He studied the newspaper article again. It had been picked up by one of the national dailies, so it was too late to put a lid on it. Chances were there was nothing in it, that whatever Ben Fischer had brought back from Costa Rica had been nothing more remarkable than his brother’s personal effects. But Bayard didn’t like leaving anything to chance.
    Picking up the phone, he dialed Sara’s number.
    The phone rang several times then clicked through to her answering service. He left a message.
    Just before he hung up he thought he heard a small click.
    He didn’t normally conduct business from his land line. When he was at home he liked to keep his life as ordinary and real as he could. If he had to make work calls, he had his cell and a satellite phone in his briefcase, but he hadn’t considered a cautionary call to Sara as work.
    Picking up the receiver, he listened, but aside from a faintly hollow background sound, all he could hear was the dial tone. The building wasold, a grand Victorian lady with high, ornate ceilings and a creaking lift—as far removed from his high-tech day environment as he could get. Sometimes when it rained, the electrics got a little freaky, which could explain the noise. Lately, with the heat and humidity, they’d had rain most days. That probably explained the sound he’d heard.
    Frowning, he set the receiver back down.

Four
    Shreveport, Louisiana
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    S ara Fischer stepped up onto the airy veranda that wrapped around three sides of