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“That wasn’t mentioned. But the unattractive, heavy makeup, earrings, et cetera, et cetera. For reasons I can’t understand, Newark sent the surveillance-camera film to Washington—to the Anti-Terrorist Group; I suppose they issued a ‘Report Similar Events’ notice—before they processed it. I called Special Agent Jernigan, and he’s promised to send me whatever the camera shows by wire as soon as it’s processed. I’ll be very surprised if it turns out to be someone else.”

“Sawed-off shotgun, too?”

“No. That’s the one thing that doesn’t fit the modus. This time it was a sawed-off carbine.”

“Explain that to me, please?”

“One of the witnesses—the bank guard—got a good look at it. The stock had been cut off behind the pistol grip, and then rounded with a file. And the barrel was cut off back to where the forearm whatchamacallit holds it. You understand?”

“What’s the purpose?”

“Concealability, obviously. And presumably our friend thinks he now has the latest thing in terrorist machine-pistols. Those were M2—fully automatic carbines—they stole from Indiantown Gap.”

“ ‘Presumably our friend thinks’?” Matt quoted.

“I fired a carbine modified very much like this one on the FBI range at Quantico. They look great, very menacing, but—”

“I’ve fired one, too,” Matt interrupted. “And also at Quantico. But on the Marine Corps’ known-distance range.”

“Okay. Then, knowing that there’s a good deal of recoil in a carbine, you’ll understand how hard this ‘modifica tion’ would be to control, even single shot, without the stock. If he tries to fire it full automatic, he just couldn’t control it. The danger here is—”

“If he should try to take a shot at a cop, or one of you guys, he’d be more likely to hit a civilian,” Matt finished for him.

“Right.”>

“What is this clown doing, acting out a fantasy?”

“That bombed building was no fantasy, Matt.”

“No,” Matt agreed. “Anything else?”

“How did your dinner with the girlfriend go?”

“What do you mean, ‘girlfriend’?”

“Chenowith’s, not yours, of course.”

“I must have missed something. I thought the Ollwood woman was his girlfriend.”

“Right. So what?”

“Yes or no?”

“No. I have carefully gone through everything. I have had plenty of time, you see, waiting patiently by my telephone to hear from you—”

“Screw you, Jack,” Matt said amiably.

“—and there is nothing to suggest that the Reynolds woman is, or has been, romantically involved with either male.”

“ ‘Either male?”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that. But who knows? These people don’t consider themselves bound by the usual conventions of society. If it feels good, do it.”

Christ, is that a possibility? There is no boyfriend. Has been no boyfriend . . .

“How did dinner go?” Matthews asked.

Well, pal, we had dinner with Mommy and Daddy, and Daddy taught me how to cook a London broil, and then we went to the country club. En route, the female suspect got pinched for speeding, and I talked a local uniform out of writing the ticket. At the country club, I taught the female suspect to eat Roquefort on crackers with a sip of cabernet sauvignon, and we talked about mutual friends, and then the female suspect kissed me for approximately one-tenth of second, whereupon my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. Moments later, my wang tried very hard to break through my zipper. And then I tossed and turned most of the night, thinking about it.