Colonel Prentice occupied a huge corner office on the top floor of the ISB headquarters. A ceiling-to-floor window gave him a panoramic view of Pasteur Plaza, the pharaonic monuments that surrounded it and Lake Michigan beyond.
When Davidson reached the Colonel's office early the next morning, the Colonel's secretary had not arrived. The door was open and he strolled into the office. To his surprise, the Colonel sat behind the big rococo desk wearing a Roman toga. Jesus.
The Colonel smiled. "Hello, Major, glad to see you're early."
"Sir, what on earth are you wearing?"
"Isn't it obvious? A toga."
"Is that our new uniform? Did I miss the memo?"
A hearty laugh. "No, there's a fancy dress ball at the Chancellor's Palace tonight. I'm trying on my costume. I'm going as Julius Caesar."
"Is there a theme?"
"I don't think so. Unfortunately, my wife wants to go as Cleopatra. I told her we all have our limitations. She accused me of being ungracious. Do you think I'm ungracious?"
The only glimpses Davidson got of the Colonel's private life were when he complained about his wife or praised his mistress. "I've never seen any signs of that."
"Very diplomatic."
The Colonel stood and put a laurel wreath on his head. "So, how do I look?"
"Like Julius Caesar."
"Thank you."
The Colonel dropped the wreath onto his desk and sat down. "Anyway, how's your investigation of Meredith's death going?"
Once again, Davidson sensed that Prentice knew more about the death than he had revealed. However, there was no point challenging him about that, because he would just stonewall.
Davidson said: "You want the details?"
"No, just the bottom line."
"OK. So far, it's not clear whether he jumped or was pushed. There's evidence going both ways."
A frown. "Alright. Let me know when you've got some firm evidence. Then make sure you speak to me first." The Colonel strolled over to the huge window and stared down at Pasteur Plaza. "I don't trust anyone these days. You know, I think there's a mole in this bureau."
"You're serious?"
"Yes. I've suspected for a while that we've got one - maybe more than one."
"Why?"
"Every so often, for no apparent reason, a suspect flees, an undercover agent is blown, Alliance fighters avoid an ambush - a pattern is emerging."
Davidson had harbored similar suspicions for a while, without daring to raise them. Why was the Colonel confiding in him now? Because he trusted him? Or did he suspect Davidson was the mole and was trying to panic him? "What are you going to do about it?"
"Keep my eyes and ears open, of course. So should you."
"Will do." Davidson shifted on his feet and tried to lighten the mood. "So how was golf yesterday?"