“Thanks, Benny,” she said. “Who knows—maybe I’ll make chief after all…in twenty or thirty years.”
“It might happen sooner than you imagine,” Pendergast said. He shifted in his chair. “Ah, Assistant Director Pickett. Why don’t you join us?”
Glancing toward the exit from the conference room, Coldmoon saw Pickett leaning against the doorframe. Just how long he’d been standing there, Coldmoon didn’t know. But the man’s presence seemed a signal for the meeting to adjourn, because everyone began gathering their things, nodding and shaking hands, and heading for the door. Coldmoon stood to join the exodus, only to see Pickett motioning for him and Pendergast to remain behind. They stood at the door in an awkward silence.
Pickett glanced over his shoulder, making sure the others had gone. Then he cleared his throat. “I, ah, understand you two went toe-to-toe with the late Senator Drayton on my behalf,” he said. “You look…well?”
Pendergast nodded.
Pickett hesitated again, with an almost embarrassed expression on his face. “That means a lot to me. On both counts.”
“And I am equally grateful,” said Pendergast, “for the way you protected our investigation from the senator. I regret the impact on your career.”
“Actually,” Pickett said, “Senator Drayton didn’t have the chance to follow through on his threats. He was more of a blowhard than a man of action.”
So he’s getting his promotion, after all, Coldmoon thought.
There was a silence as Pickett fixed Pendergast with a long and particular stare. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to ask you one more time,” he said. “For the record, you understand.”
“I understand.”
Pickett took a breath. “So: you have no idea where that creature came from?”
“Absolutely none.”
“Or what it was doing here?”
“I have no idea.”
“And you don’t know what happened to it?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Pickett swiveled his gaze toward Coldmoon. “And you?”
Coldmoon shrugged. “No, sir.”
“In other words,” said Pickett, “you’re both as ignorant as everybody else.”
“Alas,” said Pendergast, “I’m afraid this is one case I failed to solve.”
The color rose in Pickett’s face, and for a moment Coldmoon thought he was going to get angry. But then he smiled faintly. “Perhaps it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“A most wise stratagem,” Pendergast said.
“It’s a shame, though,” said Pickett. “That your stellar record, and your partner’s, might be darkened by this failure.”
Shit. Coldmoon hadn’t really thought of that. He couldn’t wait to get to Denver and into a normal FBI routine investigating ordinary things like terrorism, organized crime, and serial killers.
“On the other hand,” Pickett said, “solving the D. B. Cooper hijacking is a tremendous coup. I believe that was the FBI’s longest-running unsolved case. No doubt that will balance things out as far as your record is concerned.” He took a breath. “I’m still a little confused how you managed to do that in the midst of all this, though.”
“Serendipity,” said Pendergast.
“As soon as we put the finishing touches on that case and wrap it up, we’ll make the announcement. I imagine…” He paused. “There will be some sort of press conference and commendations for you both.”
“We look forward to it.”
Coldmoon began to feel better.
Pickett cast his gaze out the window over the wrecked landscape. “This case was just too crazy. Who could have predicted this?” He turned his scrutiny back to Pendergast. “Just so you don’t think I’m an idiot, I know you know a lot more about this.”
“As you said, sir, better to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“Which leads to my final question. Is there any reason for concern—in your opinion, of course—that there might be any further threats of this kind?”
“I believe,” Pendergast drawled, “that you can rest easy on that point.”
With this, he fell silent. What he did not say, nevertheless, spoke volumes.
“Then that’s all,” Pickett said. “Thank you. Now, is there anything I can do for either of you?”
“You can allow Agent Coldmoon to catch his flight to Denver,” Pendergast said. “And Constance and I would greatly appreciate spending tonight in our own beds, back in New York.”