“By the way, you will have a unique resource available to you from my own unit that is new to many of you. We have developed a number of computer programs that allow us to combine data-mining capability with an artificial intelligence engine—we call the program MAX, after my laptop. We have found it extremely useful to us, though we haven’t made it available this broadly before, or in a case of this importance.

“I’ve assigned agents Drucker, Bruner, and Hart to instruct you about its capabilities. Some of you will be asked to work with them on this project. All of you will have the benefit of any information MAX provides. If you haven’t worked with these agents before, I’ll tell you they’re excellent detail people. They share with MAX an uncanny ability to help you when everything starts to look like chaos.”

Savich paused. “Now, before we split up, I’d like to hear ideas about directions any of you want to take that we haven’t covered.”

The agents were eager for open discussion, which quickly turned to the crime scene photos Savich had tacked to a large bulletin board. The meeting continued long after Maitland had left. Pots of coffee were consumed, and the snow blanketed the windows despite the warmth of the room. When sandwiches and pizzas were delivered from the cafeteria upstairs, everyone took a break.

Frank Halley saw Savich talking to a man he didn’t recognize, a big guy, a sharp dresser, standing near the door with his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in black slacks, white shirt, black tie, and black leather jacket. He looked like a smart-ass wiseguy with that hard face of his. Frank walked over and put himself in the guy’s face.

“And who the hell are you?”

“I’m Detective Benjamin Raven, Metro Police.”

Frank turned on Savich. “What’s a local cop doing here, Savich?”

“It so happens that the Supreme Court Building is in the Washington, D.C., jurisdiction, Frank. We’re leading the investigation, but Detective Raven is our local liaison with the police commissioner at the Henry J. Daly Building.”

Frank gave Ben one final look, then took himself off to the table where there were still two unopened pizza boxes.

Savich said, “Don’t mind Frank. He’s a good agent, just protective of the Bureau and somewhat territorial. Now, how did you manage to ditch Ms. Markham? I would have sworn she’d have been hanging on to your coattails to get herself in here.”

Ben ran his fingers through his thick hair, causing it to stand on end. “I didn’t ditch her until she was safe back at the house in Colfax. I’m lucky she didn’t follow me in. I’ll bet she could have talked her way past the guards.”

Savich laughed. “She seems like a pistol, Ben, smart and insightful.”

“Well, maybe. Who knows? All I know so far is that she’s a pain in the butt. She wanted to smack a reporter at Justice Wallace’s house. Can you believe that? She’s one of them.”

“Yes, well, don’t forget, Justice Califano was her stepfather, and the shoe’s on the other foot now. But the thing is, she’s on the inside. Use her, get her talking. I’ll bet she knows things she can’t even put together right now, things that are in her brain waiting for you to get them out.”

“Actually, she’s already started to earn her keep.” And then he told Savich about Justice Sumner Wallace hitting on Margaret Califano. “Doesn’t that boggle the mind? The guy’s a grandfather.”

Savich said, “This is going to take some thought. You’re right, Callie did good, give her a medal. I guess after she told you that, you can trust her not to feed stuff to the Post.”

“Okay, yeah, so she’s a straight shooter, at least so far. Like I said, I dropped her off at the Kettering home before I drove back in. Nearly landed myself in a ditch a couple of times. The roads are a mess.”

“The snow’s supposed to lighten up tonight, be gone by tomorrow. Hopefully it won’t freeze, the ice would really make it tough for us to get around.”

“At least the pizza’s pretty good here.”

“Yeah, agents are often stuck here for meals during an investigation, so the cafeteria keeps the food coming, about anything you like. The only section Sherlock doesn’t approve of is the Mexican wagon. Ah, I see Agent Halley looking over here at you again. He’s not a happy camper since he thinks Director Mueller should have appointed him to run the show, so ignore the attitude.”

“Not a problem. Everyone at Metro is hyped about this. I’m lucky to be heading up the field assignments. I’ve got maybe a dozen cops ready to do whatever you need.”