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“Good ideas.” Corrie typed in the filters, in natural language but longer and more specific, listing all the parameters. She made the AI construct repeat the request in its own words to make sure she’d been understood, then she told it to run the search yet again. It took over a minute before it responded.
;:: Search complete. Indexing complete. 1,071 records saved to 0003.txt
“That’s still a lot of hits,” Corrie said. “But now, in addition to what weknowabout the victim, we’ve also put in what wethinkmight be true. But here’s the crucial thing: the software has sorted them by likelihood. So you start with number one and work down, hoping to strike gold long before you reach the bottom of the list. That’s the key difference, what AI brings to the search.”
“Fascinating,” Sharp said. “And new to me.”
“So,” said Corrie, flushing at the indirect approval, “that’s what Bellamy and O’Hara could be doing—looking through that list.”
Sharp chuckled. “They’ll love it. May I suggest, for your sake, that I be the one to break the news about their new assignment?” He hesitated. “As we discussed—red tape, and all that.”
“That would be much appreciated.”
Sharp rose. “Exceptional, Agent Swanson.”
She hadn’t quite managed to wipe the sleepy look from his face—and, since he’d handed this case to her, the compliment carried less weight than if he’d been actively mentoring her. But she could tell he’d been deeply impressed—and that was more than enough.
10
AS THE BIGblack SUV bumped along the track with agonizing slowness, Nora gazed out the windows at the landscape through which they were passing. She’d been in New Mexico a long time and had hiked the Bisti Badlands, and so these kinds of formations weren’t new to her—but she still experienced a sense of awe and menace when she saw them.
“It’s right up ahead,” said Corrie as they came around a particularly large hoodoo and entered an open, flat area. “This is where the film crew set up.”
Corrie brought the vehicle to a halt and they got out, heat swimming over them in waves.
“The film trailers were parked over there—you can see all the tracks. We’ve got a mile hike ahead of us.”
Nora looked around. “The Navajos have a name for these rock formations. They call themde-na-zin. Cranes.”
“I can see why.”
Nora doused a bandanna in water and tied it around her neck. She noticed Corrie watching. “Do you have a bandanna?” she asked.
“No.”
Nora grinned. “I happened to bring an extra… just in case.” She pulled a bandanna out of her day pack and handed it to Corrie, who followed Nora’s example.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Nora hefted her water carrier. The temperature, she figured, was close to a hundred degrees, but the air was dry and thin, and a stiff breeze was blowing. These weren’t bad conditions for July.
“Lead the way,” she said.
Corrie set off, Nora following behind, threading a path among the balancing rocks toward a black spire in the near distance. A stiff twenty-minute walk brought them to its base.
“The bones,” said Corrie, pointing to a forest of little flags stuck in the ground, “were scattered in that area. Those green rocks were right there, about two feet apart. The point was there. And the clothes were spread out in a long line back that way.”
Nora looked around, taking it all in. There was something about this place, something ineffable, that spoke to her. It felt instinctively like an unusual spot—and not a nice one.
She nodded at the black finger of rock. “That’s known geologically as a volcanic plug. You see a lot of them around here. A small cone once formed and the cinders eroded away, leaving the lava pipe still standing. Sort of like the chimney of a house that burned.”
Corrie nodded.
“This formation looks particularly menacing. There’s always a chance that, prehistorically, this plug might have been a place of significance.”
“As in sacred?” asked Corrie.
“Sacred… or perhaps malign. I’m going to look around a bit.”