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me.”
    â€œHello, Paul.” Sandoval’s voice sounded throaty, sexy.
    â€œI’ve got a visitor down here. A guy named Arashi.”
    â€œArashi?” For the first time he heard anxiety in her voice. “I’ll be right down. Don’t tell him anything!”
    The phone clicked dead.
    Cochrane put the phone down and looked at Arashi, who was smiling faintly.
    â€œShe’s coming down here,” he said.
    â€œYeah, I’ll bet she is,” said Arashi. “Before she gets here, listen to this: I can offer you fifty thousand dollars for pertinent information about your brother’s work. Maybe even a little more.”
    Cochrane shook his head, grumbling to himself, How many times do I have to tell these people I don’t have any more notion of what Mike was working on than they do? But then a new thought struck him: Maybe I can find out about it. Mike must have left some information with the people he worked with. Maybe I can learn about his research from them.
    A light tap on the door. Cochrane got to his feet and went to it. He opened the door and Sandoval stepped into the room, still wearing the slacks and blouse she’d worn at dinner.
    Arashi stood up. “Hello, Elena.”
    â€œMitsuo,” she said. “What brings you here?”
    Arashi smiled. “Don’t play games. You know damned well why I’m here.”
    Closing the door, Cochrane said sharply, “He claims you’re not a federal agent.”
    â€œShe’s not.”
    â€œI’m not,” Sandoval admitted, going to the sofa. “I didn’t like to mislead you, Paul, but I needed your trust and that seemed the easiest way to get it.”
    â€œAnd all this is about my brother’s work?”
    Arashi perched on the armchair again as Sandoval sat on the end of the sofa as far away from him as possible.
    â€œThe information must be in his computer,” Arashi said to her.
    â€œIt’s gone missing,” she replied.
    â€œThe police…?”
    â€œThey don’t have it. I asked that Sergeant Purvis about it. There wasn’t any laptop at the murder scene.”
    â€œHis home?”
    She shook her head. “Paul checked. It wasn’t there, either.”
    â€œThen whoever killed him must have it.”
    â€œMost likely.”
    â€œThat’s not good,” Arashi muttered. “Not good at all.”
    They both turned toward Cochrane.
    He looked at each of them in turn, then said, “I guess I can ask his colleagues at the Calvin Center. Maybe they can tell us something about it.”

PALO  ALTO:
CALVIN  RESEARCH  CENTER
    A rashi breezed out of Cochrane’s mini-suite as soon as Cochrane agreed to try to find out what his brother had been working on.
    As the door closed behind Arashi, Sandoval got up from the sofa, too.
    â€œWait a minute,” Cochrane said, reaching for her arm. “If you’re not a federal agent, just who in hell are you?”
    She looked distressed, her lips pressed into a thin worried line. “Paul, I can’t tell you. Not yet. Please believe me, it’s much too urgent. I wouldn’t have lied to you if it hadn’t been so urgent.”
    Before he could reply, she hurried to the door and left him standing alone in the mini-suite, feeling confused, puzzled, and more than a little annoyed at her elusiveness.
    If they don’t know what Mike was doing, why are they so damned spooled up about it?
    Cochrane slept poorly, haunted by nightmares of his brother’s battered, bloody face. He woke up depressed, worn out. Mike’s funeral, he knew. Thisis going to be a truly shitty day. He showered and shaved and then phoned Sandoval. She’d already checked out, the desk clerk told him, and paid for his room as well. Surprised, irritated, he called his sister-in-law to lamely ask her if she could send somebody over to the hotel to pick him up.
    â€œWhat’s the