Dressing up in a costume was idiotic.  Even as a child, the thought of begging for candy was ridiculous.  Here her mom was giving the stuff away to other kids and sending her out to get more from the neighbors.  It would have been smarter to stay home and keep what they had.  Her mom told her they did it because it was fun.  Barbara had no idea what she was talking about.

Halloween still held a faint repulsion for her.  It was a gaudy, superstitious ritual with children dressing like fools and adults acting like children.  But here she was at the Copperhead Club standing in the dark zone between the bar and the dance floor.  The bass beat of poorly remixed pop songs filled the air like artillery.  She sipped at her drink, a double Jim Beam on ice.  She wore her black dress and a black conical hat.  A carnival mask covered the top half of her face.

"Of all the witches here."  A man dressed as the Lone Ranger broke through the crowd and leaned toward her ear.  "You are by far the sexiest."

"You recognized me."  She unconsciously adjusted her hat.  She didn't feel as in disguise as she did a moment before.

"Even blind, I would find you."

"Stop it with the corny lines."  Barbara sounded exasperated but stretched up and planting a long moist kiss on Delgado's waiting mouth.

Perhaps Halloween wasn't so bad.  They could stand in this public space, surrounded by people, and kiss.  There was no need to hide from the watchful eyes of the Agency.  Tonight they weren't Dr. Gracie and Major Delgado.  They were only two people in love, out having a good time.

Delgado would have never suggested this rendezvous if he knew about Haddad.  He would have felt it was wrong to go out and enjoy themselves so soon after what had happened.  It was the only reason she was okay with keeping him in the dark about the killing. 

No one in security had noticed that the poor fool had gone down to the Music Box and never came back up.  She didn't know how Wiley had pulled it off, but he must have done some fancy work on the electronic logs and possibly even paid-off or threatened some of Delgado's staff to keep it quiet.  She hated that they were making a fool out of the Major and desperately wanted to tell him.  But it was better this way.

She ran her hand down his back and tasted and his breath as he slowly drew away.

"Shall we dance?"  He held out his hand to her.

She looked to the dance floor and watched as the young crowd jumped and gyrated like they were possessed by dark forces—very stupid dark forces.

"I don't think so."

"Come on, we don't have to do it their way."  He grabbed her hand and tugged her out onto the floor.  She was reluctant but found herself yielding to him.  "Here, put this hand here and that hand there.  It will be just like prom."

Barbara didn't say anything.  She swayed with him for a few steps before leaning her whole body against his and slow danced like an awkward teenager.

Prom.  Another thing her mom thought was fun and forced her to do.

A cringe tightened her shoulders as she thought of the dress.  Hideous emerald green with a puffy tulle skirt, she had felt like a St. Patrick's Day float.  It was far worse than any of the Halloween costumes she'd been given to wear over the years.

It was much more enjoyable being in the club with Delgado than the high school gym with Robbie Dixon.  Half a dance with him was all she could stomach.

She should suggest they go somewhere to talk.  Ever since getting back from Denver, Barbara had been working on figuring out who at SBI Pharmaceuticals had been in touch with Tray and canceled the clinical trial on his sister.  They were a mammoth organization with offices and centers in thirty-eight states and sixteen countries.  She focused her efforts on Phoenix.  So far all she had been able to learn was from the internet and was completely useless.

She had contacted Gil Mason again and convinced the worm to search for any unusual claims from SBI employees in the area over the past year, but had little hope that it would turn up anything relevant.  She needed the Major to start digging into them with his contacts.  Even with only being on loan to the DTAA, he still had access to many of their information gathering resources.  Perhaps he could even get the Aira employees to turn their surveillance efforts to the company.

She really should get away from this noisy place and go over the case with him.

"Are you okay?" Delgado asked.

She pulled back a bit to look at him.  "Fine.  Why?" 

"You're squeezing pretty tight."

"I just don't want to let go."

*** 

Grierson was shuffled through the papers on his cluttered desk as though looking for his thoughts.

"What the hell kind of show are you running down there?"  His distraction sucked all the anger out of the question.

Just like every interaction with Grierson, Maxwell wasn't sure how much was show intended to unnerve him and how much was the man's natural bumbling disposition.   He gave his boss a moment to focus his attention on him.  When that didn't happen, he answered, "Like I told you on the phone, some of these people you recruited—"

"You recruited."  The old man looked up for the first time and fixed him with eyes that were the nondescript color of mud—a shade not worthy of a name.

"Under your orders."  Maxwell wasn't sure how to play this.  He could feel his control over the meeting slipping through his nervous fingers.  Grierson had already laid into him twice over the phone and now he seemed to want to do it in person.  The chief was fishing for something.  Perhaps he was hoping Maxwell would fall on his sword, so the DTAA could quietly sweep him away and close this incident.  His career already had suffered enough damage.  He wouldn't be scapegoated for something that had nothing to do with him. 

Maxwell leaned back and smiled.  It was his smile that told the world he was relaxed and content, without any worries.  "I'm just saying they're not all that stable.  From all indications, Dr. Haddad was suffering from severe depression."

Grierson looked back up from his search with mock-surprise.  "Oh!  So he decided to commit suicide by getting himself eaten?"

No.  Not suicide.  And he didn't die from being eaten either.  From a review of the camera feed, it was obvious that he'd died on the first strike when the beast ripped out his throat.

Maxwell pulled out his cell phone and pretended he was checking a text.  Better to look disinterested than let the withered desk-jockey goad him into anger.  At least the Philadelphia office allowed for a ploy like this.  The sky outside the window was blotted out by office buildings but it was a huge improvement over the Groom Lake base.  Not to mention, Maxwell's own familiar hole in the ground.

As he slipped the phone back in his pocket, he said, "What I meant was: he wasn't thinking straight.  He was taking unnecessary and unauthorized risks.  He didn't even know she had changed until it was too late."

"And about that."  Grierson went back to the hunt through the pile of bureaucratic refuse.  His eyes said, where are you, where are you. 

Probably in your refrigerator next to your car keys, you senile bastard.

"Why did you only have one person on duty when she was turning into a wolf?"

How many times would he need to go over this?  

"She wasn't scheduled to transform."  Maxwell decided to leave out R.J.'s theories.  The idea that she would change more often as she got older might worry Grierson.  And the possibility that she could choose when to change whenever she wanted might confuse him.  "Admittedly it was an error.  We trusted the meteorological reports too much.  We had similar problems at the beginning, but with her not changing when she was supposed to."

"And you're sure it has nothing to do with the little honey you're spending all your time with." 

Grierson was a slippery little toad.  It shouldn't have been a surprise that he was spying on Maxwell.  But the revelation stopped him like a dog whose owner just yanked back hard on the leash.

Before he could think of a response, Grierson finally pulled a clump of files from a pile he had already sifted through three times and tapped them on the edge of the desk.  Despite his success, there was no victory in his face.  Just a dull, blank expression that turned into a lecherous grin as he said, "I believe Emily is her name."

There was a letter opener in a pen jar on the edge of the desk.  The handle was tarnished silver and shaped like a set of golf clubs.  One of the clubs extended into a long thin blade.  Maxwell estimated he could plunge it to the hilt into Grierson's left eye socket in under three seconds.

The sector chief leaned in over his desk in a buddy-buddy gesture.  "Don't worry.  I've been there.  Off on assignment.  Some pretty young thing strutting under your nose.  I've seen pictures of this Kendrick lady."  He gave a low whistle.  "I don't blame you one bit.  Mind you, I prefer them with a little more meat on their bones, if you know what I mean?"

His gray-pink slug of a tongue moistened his lips.

Maybe less than two seconds.

"But the important thing is not to let your dick interfere with the job."

"It isn't, sir.  This accident is completely unrelated to my relationship with Ms. Kendrick."

Was it?  He was out following a lead on Aaron.  Had he been in town would it have changed anything?  Is that what Grierson was thinking?

"I wouldn't have been scheduled to be in the bunker that night even if I was in town.  The only thing being in Phoenix would have changed was my response time once the alarm was sounded and Haddad had already been dead for several hours.  And the trip was worth it.  I gained some valuable information on the boy's whereabouts."

Grierson waved the files around like there was a bad odor in the air.  "I don't want to know anything about that.  I want all the plausible deniability I can get.  It was a mistake committing to the boy's retrieval.  Torrealba has a lot more friends in the Venezuelan government than we realized.  Our actions..."  He cleared his throat.  "You're actions could have serious diplomatic ramifications.  As far as anyone is concerned, you're acting alone."

"Understood."

"Now for some good news."  He handed the folders over to Maxwell.  "New staff.  Two fresh recruits.  And you don't even have to go and meet them.  They're all lined up.  They'll be at the Music Box on Monday."

"You managed to get a new geneticist that fast."  Maxwell was genuinely impressed.

"Good God, no.  Do you have any idea how much work it was to line up Haddad?  His replacement is going to take some time.  It's damn hard to make a scientist of that caliber just disappear."  He snapped his fingers like he was performing a magic trick.  "You got yourself a new nurse and an additional research assistant, specializing in veterinary care.  Just try not to feed them to your wolf."