Franconia leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. He admired the shine on his wingtips, then said, “Case had authorization to review certain records at Langley because the subcommittee’s chair is that asshole from New York, who also happens to chair the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence.”
“Any idea what was in those records?”
“We’re looking into it now. Should know something pretty quick.”
“You’ll let me know as soon as you learn anything?” Christie said.
“Bank on it. In the meantime, what do you have that you can share with me?”
Christie looked at his desktop for a long minute, then, in a tired voice, related the facts of the case that would be new to Franconia, mentioning the blood samples last.
“Shit, Mitch, without prints, reliable eye witnesses, or any other traceable evidence, the blood work is all you’ve got. What’s the lab status on the DNA analysis?”
“Lab is still working on it, but the report’s overdue.” Christie reached for the phone on his desk and punched a couple of buttons. His assistant answered. “Charlotte,” he said, “see if you can get the forensics lab for me. I want to talk to whoever is doing the DNA analysis from this morning’s event in Georgetown.”
While he waited on the line, Franconia’s cell phone rang. The Agency man fished the phone out of a trouser pocket. “Franconia.” He paused to listen. “Yeah, I’m here now.”
As Franconia was speaking to his contact, Charlotte came back on the line and connected Christie to the lab.
“This is Christie,” he said when the call clicked through.
The voice on the other end had a definite nasal twang. “Special Agent Christie, this is John Deutch in the forensics lab. Tom Billingsley, who works for me, spoke to you earlier this morning.”
“Right. Whatcha got for me, John?”
Deutch hesitated. “Well…the metabolites in the samples taken from the decedents’ wrists were badly contaminated by microorganisms in the oils and perspiration on the decedents’ skin. Basically, they’re useless.”
“Dammit,” Christie said. “You’re telling me we’re at a dead end?”
“Ah…not exactly…I think.”
“Well, what then?” Christie said.
Deutch hesitated again. “We found an additional blood spot on the jacket sleeve of one of the decedents. It’s in much better shape than the others.”
“And it tells us what?”
“It’s undergoing analysis right now.”
“Estimated turnaround time?” Christie said.
“The FRV we’re using from our LIMS gives pretty rapid profile results. The system amplifies the CODIS 13 core loci. It’s the latest iteration of PCR analysis using STRs.”
Christie felt his blood pressure rising. “I don’t give a big rat’s ass how the fuckin’ process works, just tell me when I can expect results.”
“A couple of hours…I think.”
“You think? Look, it’s about ten now. I’ll expect to hear from you by noon. One o’clock at the latest.”
He hung up, looked at Franconia, who had ended his own call, and shook his head. “Fuckin’ scientists, they’re so over-educated they can’t speak a recognizable language. How do they place orders at Starbucks?”
Franconia smiled. “Dunno, but I just learned something that could brighten up your morning.”
Christie leaned forward with his elbows on his desk and said, “I’m all ears.”