But Fitch had plenty of money, and the work involved only the slightest risk of flying bullets. The work had also been quite fruitless, and this was the reason Local was in Biloxi.
Swanson and Fitch listened as Local, without the slightest trace of apology, detailed their efforts of the past four days. Claire Clement had not existed before she appeared in Lawrence in the summer of 1988. Her first apartment was a two-bedroom condo she rented by the month and paid for with cash. The utilities were in her name-water, electric, gas. If she'd used the courts of Kansas for a legal name change, there was no record of it. Such files are kept locked, but they had managed to access them nonetheless. She didn't register to vote, didn't purchase car tags, didn't purchase real estate, but she did possess a Social Security number, which she'd used for employment purposes at two places-Mulligan's and a clothing boutique just off campus. A Social Security card is relatively easy to get, and it makes life much easier for a person on the run. They had managed to obtain a copy of her application for it, which revealed nothing useful. She had not applied for a passport.
It was Local's opinion that she had legally changed her name in another state, just pick one of the other forty-nine, then moved to Lawrence with a fresh identity.
They had her phone records for the three years she lived in Lawrence. There were no long distance calls billed to her. He repeated this twice so it would sink in. No long distance calls in three years. At the time, the phone company did not keep records of incoming long distance calls, so the printouts revealed nothing but the local activity. They were checking numbers. She used her phone sparingly.
"How does a person live with no long distance calls? What about family, old friends?" Fitch asked incredulously.
"There are ways," Local said. "Lots of ways, really. Maybe she borrowed a friend's phone. Maybe she went to a motel once a week, some budget place where they let you charge calls to your room, then pay for them with the bill when you check out. There's no way to trace that."
"Unbelievable," Fitch mumbled.
"I gotta tell you, Mr. Fitch, this girl is good. If she made a mistake, we haven't found it yet." The respect was obvious in Local's voice. "A person like this plans every move from the viewpoint that someone will come looking later."
"Sounds like Marlee," Fitch said, as if he were admiring a daughter.
She had two credit cards in Lawrence-a Visa and a Shell gas card. Her credit history revealed nothing remarkable or helpful. Evidently, most of her expenditures were in cash. No telephone cards either. She wouldn't dare make that mistake.
Jeff Kerr was a different story. His trail to law school at KU had been easy to follow, most of the work having been done by Fitch's initial operatives. Only after he met Claire did he pick up her habits of secrecy.
They left Lawrence in the summer of 1991, after his second year of law school, and Local's men had yet to find anyone who knew exactly when they left or where they were going. Claire had paid cash for the June rent that year, then vanished. They had spot-checked a dozen cities for signs of a Claire Clement after May of 1991, but so far had found nothing helpful. For obvious reasons, it was not possible to check every city.
"My guess is that she ditched Claire as soon as she left town, and became someone else," Local said.
Fitch had figured this out long ago. "This is Saturday. The jury gets the case on Monday. Let's forget what happened after Lawrence, and concentrate on finding out who she really is."
"We're working on that now."
"Work harder."
Fitch glanced at his watch and explained that he had to go. Marlee would be expecting him in a matter of moments. Local left for a private plane and a quick trip back to Kansas City.
MARLEE HAD BEEN in her little office since six. She slept little after Nicholas called her around three. They talked four times before he left for the courtroom.
The Hoppy scam had Fitch stamped all over it - why else would Mr. Cristano threaten to crush Hoppy if he didn't pressure Millie to vote right? Marlee had scribbled pages of notes and flow charts, and she'd made dozens of calls on her cellphone. Information was trickling in. The only George Cristano with a listed phone number in the metropolitan D.C. area lived in Alexandria. Marlee had called him around 4 A.M., and explained she was so-and-so with Delta Airlines, a plane had gone down near Tampa, a Mrs. Cristano was on board, and was this the George Cristano who worked with the Justice Department. No, he worked at Health and Human Services, thank God. She apologized, hung up, and snickered at the thought of the poor man racing to CNN to see the story.
Dozens of similar calls had led her to believe that there were no FBI agents working out of Atlanta named Napier and Nitchman. Nor were there any in Biloxi, New Orleans, Mobile, or any nearby city. At eight, she made contact with an investigator in Atlanta who was now pursuing leads on Napier and Nitchman. Marlee and Nicholas were almost positive the two were stooges, but this had to be confirmed. She called reporters, cops, FBI hotlines, government information services.
When Fitch arrived promptly at ten, the table was clear and the phone was hidden in a small closet. They barely said hello. Fitch was wondering who she was before she was Claire, and she was still analyzing the next move to uncover his Hoppy scam.
"You'd better wrap it up, Fitch. The jury is numb."
"We'll be through by five this afternoon. That soon enough?"
"Let's hope so. You're not making it easier on Nicholas."
"I've told Cable to hurry. That's all I can do."
"We got problems with Rikki Coleman. Nicholas has spent time with her, and she'll be a hard sell. She's well respected on the jury, by the men and women alike, and Nicholas says she's slowly becoming a major player. He's surprised by this, actually."
"She wants a big verdict?"
"It looks that way, though they haven't discussed specifics. Nicholas detects a real bitterness toward the industry for duping kids into addiction. She doesn't appear to have much sympathy for the Wood family, she's more inclined to punish Big Tobacco for hooking the younger generation. Anyway, you said we might have a surprise for her."
Without comment or formality, Fitch lifted a single sheet of paper from his briefcase and slid it across the table. Marlee scanned it quickly. "Abortion, huh?" she said, still reading, unsurprised.
"Yep."
"You're sure this is her?"
"Positive. She was in college."
"This should do it."
"Does he have the guts to show it to her?"
Marlee released the paper and glared at Fitch. "Would you, for ten million bucks?"
"Of course. And why not? She sees this, she votes right, this is forgotten, and her dirty little secret is safe. She leans the other way, then threats are made. It's an easy sell."
"Precisely." She folded the piece of paper and removed it from the table. "Don't worry about Nick's courage, okay? We've been planning this for a long time."
"How long?"
"That's not important. You have nothing on Herman Grimes?"
"Not a thing. Nicholas will have to deal with him during deliberations."
"Gee thanks."
"He's damned sure getting paid for it, don't you think? For ten million, you'd think he should be able to sway a few votes."
"He's got the votes, Fitch. They're in his pocket right now. He wants it unanimous. Herman might be a problem."
"Then bump the sonofabitch. Seems to be a game you enjoy."