Page 45 of Close Up

“She’s notmyMiss Brazier,” Nick said. He was startled by the wistful sensation that whispered through him. “She’s a client. You’re the one who told Luther Pell that Vivian needs a bodyguard.”

Pete’s gunfighter eyes narrowed a little. “It’s true. Someone’s after her.”

“Given that someone tried to kill her last night, I’m inclined to believe you. Have you made any more progress decoding those poems?”

“Some. Nothing that points to the identity of the assassin or the person who hired him to kill Miss Brazier, though.”

“You’re sure the killer is a man?”

Pete shook his head. “I can’t even be certain of that.” He opened the briefcase at his feet and took out a notebook. “Take a look at some of the unencrypted poems, compare them to the encrypted version, and see what you think. Far as I can tell, the victims were all standing in the way of something someone else wanted—money, an inheritance, control of a company. About the only other thing I noticed is that, in addition to taking a month for each of what he calls hiscommissions, the Poet usually takes a break between murders. About three months.”

“The Poet?”

“That’s what Luther and I are calling him until we get a proper name.”

Nick opened the notebook and looked at the latest entries. “Huh.”

“What?”

“He targeted Vivian almost immediately after he completed the previous commission. He didn’t take the usual three months off.”

“Right.”

“So something made him change his pattern.”

“Luther and I agree but we can’t figure out what might have caused him to do that.”

Nick thought for a moment. “If the murders are more than just a business for him, if he truly likes the process of stalking and killing another human being—”

“He does.” Pete grunted. “Far as I can tell, he gets a real thrill out of his damned commissions. Gets depressed when they end.”

“He’s addicted to killing.”

“Yep.”

“In that case the change in the pattern may indicate that he’s losing control of the addiction. He needs more and more of the drug. Or maybe he suffered some sort of psychotic break.”

“He’s already broken,” Pete said. “Probably doesn’t pay to try to analyze him.”

“True.” Nick closed the notebook. “I’ll take a look at your transcript later and see if anything else stands out.”

“You do that. I’ve got a talent for code breaking but I’m not nearly as insightful as you are when it comes to figuring out how the bad guys think.”

Nick looked at him. “You’re getting a kick out of working with Pell again, aren’t you?”

“It’s been a while since I got to do the one thing I do best. The encryption business hasn’t been good since the government closed downthe Black Chamber and then went after Luther Pell’s department and fired his team. Idiots.”

Nick raised a brow. “Pell’s team?”

“’Course not. I was talking about those damn bureaucrats back in D.C. After the War they figured that they didn’t need spies and encryption people anymore. What was it Henry Stimson said?”

“According to the legend it was something to the effect that gentlemen don’t read each other’s mail.”

“What hogwash.” Pete heaved a heavy sigh. “Well, those fools back in Washington will soon be scrambling to rebuild their spy apparatus. Everyone can see what’s coming.”

“War.”

“Yep.” Pete stretched out his legs and contemplated the tips of his shoes. “Pell tells me he’s running his own private version of what he used to do when he handled the old Accounting Department. Calls it Failure Analysis, Incorporated. Does contract work.”

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