“If that’s so,” Ruth said, “everything we’re seeing here could be a ruse, too, to cover his flight. He didn’t give us the chance to serve him, or to question him.”

Anna was shaking her head. “I saw his music room, the destruction of his beautiful guitars. He wouldn’t do that. No, someone else did this.”

Dix said, “Either way, Salazar is finished here. I doubt even his adoring students are going to clean this up for him.”

Griffin said, “Has anyone spoken to Dr. Hayman?”

Dix said, “After we searched I phoned him, asked him if he’d seen his brother. He said he hadn’t and that he was worried, since they were to have had coffee together this morning, and demanded to know what was going on. I told him only that his brother wasn’t here and his house was trashed. He was understandably very upset, but he said he couldn’t imagine who would do this. I told him we would find his brother and left it at that.” Dix paused a moment, then added, “I’m as sure as I can be that he knows nothing about any of this or his twin’s criminal activities.”

Griffin was shaking his head. “Two brothers, admittedly not raised together, but how could one not know what the other is?”

The Hoover Building

Washington, D.C.

Late Tuesday morning

Savich made it back from the Harts’ to the Hoover Building in forty minutes. Traffic hadn’t slowed yet, though snow started to fall like a thin white veil as he drove. The forecasters had threatened more in a couple of hours, and he was glad to beat the worst of it. Ollie met him when he stepped into the CAU.

“Did you question Mr. Sleeson?”

Ollie nodded. “A retired gent with a beard down to his navel, really pissed, since he’d reported his precious SUV stolen on Sunday evening and hadn’t heard a word until I called him.

“Unfortunately, he wasn’t any help, didn’t see who took it, didn’t hear a thing. You should know Delsey’s hopping mad, says she’s being kept prisoner in your house and it’s not fair. She’d have come with me to Maryland to talk with Mr. Sleeson if I’d let her. But not to worry. Coop had her under control when I left. Oh, yes, she tried to call her brother to complain, but couldn’t reach him. She might call you, but I think Coop will talk her out of it, get her going with his jokes.”

“Thanks, Ollie. What else we got?”

“Melissa Ivy has arrived. She’s in the interview room with Mr. Maitland.”

“Good. I’m glad he was available. If he asks, tell him I’m in my office. I’ve got something important to take care of.”

Savich went into his office and studied MAX’s screen. He smiled and called Dix.

Dix answered on the third ring.

“Noble here.”

“Dix, Savich. I think we’re in business. Here’s what MAX found. There’s a thousand-acre parcel of hilly, undeveloped, essentially worthless land outside of Maestro. It was sold by a Mr. Weaver last summer for more than it was worth to a land trust. Not unusual so far, but MAX found the trust had no other domestic holdings, and was owned by an SFB Industries, which appears to be a front company owned by yet another corporation, American Colonial Trust, incorporated in the Cayman Islands. Things get murky here, but MAX found a welter of front companies owned by AZT. One of them is yet another finance company that’s under investigation for ties to the Lozano crime family, Salazar’s family.”

Savich could practically see Dix’s manic grin. “Bingo, Savich. If it was Weaver’s, I know the parcel and so do you. There’s a limestone cave on it. Remember Winkel’s Cave and our hairy adventures?”

Not pleasant memories, Savich thought. “Winkel’s Cave—there’s both a front and a back entrance on Lone Tree Hill. And the cave’s big, certainly big enough to house drugs and gang members.”

Dix said, “We knew they had to go somewhere, but this is the perfect hideout. There’s nothing out that way, only an unused road in ruins and rough terrain. This is it, Savich, this has got to be it. I want you to buy MAX a beer.”

Savich paused. “You guys be careful, Dix. These MS-13 gang members, they’re dangerous.”

“I know,” Dix said. “Yes, I know. We will.”

Savich was about to leave his office when Judy Garland sang out “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” He looked down at caller ID. Bo Horsley. He didn’t have time, he didn’t—no choice. He said, “Hi, Bo. You calling to tell me more about the Jewel of the Lion exhibit?”