FBI HQ, Washington DC, March, 2078, Friday…

Caitlin showed up for work a little before lunch. She had one hell of a headache and felt lousy. Asako had called in sick. She either was less dedicated or had more of a headache.

For a little thing, she can sure throw down a few. And Simon is also like a sponge. Good people. In the fog of the hangover she remembered that Simon had tried to tell her something about Maracaibo, but she hadn't understood.

Wasn't he speaking in Spanish? How could I have understood? She put her head down and was trying not to count the throbs when the phone rang.

"Agent Murphy?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Captain Turk Bradley, DC Metro. We've rounded up another MD for you. Trudy Kerrigan is her name. A real wild one. We've had her collared before for possession and soliciting. I can't charge her with anything this time, though. She was a name on your list, so, if you want her, come and get her."

"Thanks, Captain. Where are you located? I'd like to question her."

The Captain told her.

If I hit it right, I can do lunch in Georgetown and still make it back for a solid half day of work. After a good lunch and a few cups of coffee, maybe I'll feel like a human being again. Then she remembered something Juan Pablo had told her. She checked her PDA and dialed a number. A youthful face swam into view.

"Juan Pablo said you needed to talk to Trudy Kerrigan," she told him. "I'm going into DC to interrogate her. Can you join me?"

Frank Chavez smiled in spite of himself. He was down quite a bit, considering he had lost his best friend and mentor the week before and many of his family in the Bogotá nuking. The latter were actually more of a loss for his mother. Yet he could never know them now, so they represented something potentially wonderful that was lost to him forever.

"Of course, Agent Murphy."

"I'll pick you up," she told Frank.

He gave her the address. She hung up and smiled. The address was the parish rectory.

This one is for you, Juan Pablo. Some of the morning commute was still going on, so the autopilot took her car down to a crawl. She turned it off and began to make better time. Once in DC, though, the traffic became hell. She took the car through some mean streets on the way to pick Frank up. They made good time over to the DC metro police station. Frank had been there many times before he had met Father Gomez.