Eleanor instructed Lydia to park in the driveway where it would be clear to anyone who might be watching that they'd gone in the house and stayed there. While they drove, she placed a call to beg a favor from a neighbor. He readily agreed, so within moments of passing into the house via the front door, they were passing out of it through the back.
"Be careful on this uneven ground," Lydia advised.
Grateful for the extra support from her new cane, Eleanor promised she could manage the wide expanse of lawn between her house and her neighbor's without trouble as long as they took their time. Sixty years ago, she'd have been able to sprint across the grass in heels. No matter. Though her body may not have quite the same skill set it once had, six decades had gifted her with a fair amount of wisdom and insight that she could still put to good use.
A swinging gate in the garden fence led to a cobblestone walkway which curved around an inground pool and came to an end at the sliding glass door on the back side of the house. Lowell Lopez stood there waiting for them wearing his favorite ancient denim overalls and a straw hat with so many holes it no longer seemed to serve much of a purpose.
"A deal's a deal, Eleanor."
Eleanor rested both hands atop her cane. "I wouldn't dream of backing out of a promise--a good story about the current adventure in exchange for the use of your car."
Lowell offered his greetings and they all stepped into the house where plants covered just about every flat surface and hung in macramé holders from hooks on the ceiling.
Lydia took it all in with her customary silence.
They arranged themselves around the dining room table and Eleanor explained how Lydia had come seeking her help and what they'd learned so far about the missing scientist.
He scratched the silvery scruff on his cheek. "Artificial intelligence, eh? Like Data from Star Trek?"
"Data was a synthetic life form. That's not really the same. AI could be anything. There are companies now that use AI for everything from flying airplanes to figuring out which books will be the next big sellers. AI is related to robots, but the two aren't necessarily the same thing, and Data was advanced far beyond either concept."
"Huh." His head swiveled back in Eleanor's direction.
"And now you got the cops staked out in front of your place?"
"I didn't bother to be certain, but it's a safe bet," Eleanor said.
"Don't you ever just want to sit in a rocking chair and knit like a regular little old lady?"
In fact, Eleanor did just that on a regular basis and she told him as much.
He scoffed. "In between flitting around on private jets and running from the cops."
"It does not pay for one to get stuck in one's way," Eleanor said.
Lowell looked at her like she might have gone senile since the last time he saw her.
Eleanor did the polite thing and pretended not to notice. "So, you have my story. Was it good enough to satisfy my end of our bargain?"
Five minutes later, Lydia took a left onto Springbrook Lane while Lowell Lopez stood in his driveway watching them go.
It took a bit of rummaging in her handbag, but Eleanor managed to lay hands on her address book. Borrowing Lydia's cellphone, she dialed and hoped for the best. The detective hadn't been totally off base when he suggested that she was past her prime and due to retire (again). That meant a good number of her contacts from her busier days were already retired, moved to a warmer climate, or passed on to their next great adventure. In this case, Fortuna smiled on her.
"Agent Kline." The voice on the other end of the line sounded like it belonged to diesel engine that had mastered the art of human language.
"I hope you remember me. My name is Eleanor Albright."
Jolly laughter greeted that statement. "If there's a man on earth who's met Eleanor Albright and forgotten her, I'd wager he's suffering from a serious ailment."
Warmth rose to Eleanor's cheeks. "You flatter an old woman."
"Well, this is just about the best thing that's happened to me in a month. Not that that's saying a lot. It's been a shi... uhm... a bit of a rough stretch."
"I am sorry to hear that," Eleanor said.
"Don't be. I've got the world-famous bombshell detective, Eleanor Albright on my line. Things are looking up already. To what do I owe the honor?"
Eleanor launched into a brief explanation of the situation, emphasizing the policeman's lack of willingness to help, but down-playing his outright hostility. "I saw a series of calls to 301-406 numbers."
"Bethesda, Maryland."
The moment she met Adam Kline, back in the 1980s, she had known he was the sharpest in a group of elite detectives.
"I guessed FBI, maybe DOD," she said.
"That's a bold guess. You're looking at the better part of a hundred thousand people in the Bethesda area."
"The detective's reaction says my wild shot hit the target, or at least came close enough to cause some discomfort."
He paused. It was easy to imagine him tapping his pen against his desktop. "Tell me this. Could Larisa Johnson's work be a national security threat?"
Eleanor had avoided asking the question herself, but it had crossed her mind. "My great-granddaughter is here with me. She's driving. I'll put you on speakerphone so we can all hear one another." A moment of peering at the glass screen yielded a square marked speaker. Eleanor tapped it with her fingertip and held the phone between herself and Lydia. "Can you hear me?"
"I'm with you," he said.
She asked him to repeat the question and he did so.
Lydia answered at once. "No." She caught her lip between her teeth for a moment and added more. "I mean, sure. Anything like this could be used for anything. Amazon's algorithms could be adapted to seek out recruits for a terrorist organization. Watson's processing power could be applied to the making and breaking of military codes. Computers are a tool."
"A gun is a tool. It's more dangerous than a screwdriver," the agent pointed out.
"The obvious applications of Larisa's work would be far more beneficial to the medical field or even manufacturing than to the military."
"You might be underestimating the value of biological research and manufacturing in the eyes of the military."
Lydia stopped for a red light and drummed her thumbs against the steering wheel. "So, let's say it's not outside the realm of all comprehension, but I really don't think that's the tree we want to climb."
"Do you know who she was supposed to meet in Washington?"
The light turned green and Lydia pressed her boot against the accelerator. "I don't know names. She had an appointment scheduled with Matson Labs R and D."
He whistled. "Girl was running with the big dogs."
Eleanor gave him time to think.
"Let me see what I can learn. I'll get back with you in a couple minutes."
Grateful to have a friend on their team, Eleanor offered her thanks and assured him they'd be waiting to hear from him.
Her next call wasn't as lucky. A secretary--one who audibly chewed gum while on the phone--answered in brusque tones.
"Good day," Eleanor said. "I'm trying to get in touch with Mrs. Gozdziewski."
"I'm sorry. Mrs. Gozdziewski is in a meeting right now."
Maybe that was true, or maybe she'd left orders not to be disturbed. Eleanor considered pressing the issue, but decided it wasn't time for that yet. "May I leave a message?"
"Okay."
Had common etiquette slipped so far? Eleanor sighed. She knew it was an old person thought, but what of it? There weren't all that many people on Earth older than her. "Please let her know that Eleanor Albright phoned. That's A-L-B-R-I-G-H-T. I have a few questions of the most urgent nature."
"I'll let her know."
Thanks to the need to satisfy Lowell's curiosity and construction on the high-level bridge to downtown, they were late. Eleanor had promised they'd arrive at the train station within an hour, but it was closer to two before they parked outside the Amtrak building. "I'm positively famished," she said. "May I treat you to a hot dog at Tony Packo's when we're done here?"
"That would be great, Nana. Thanks." Lydia's heart obviously wasn't in it. Who could blame the child for being worried sick?
As train stations went, that one was reasonably bright and modern. Colorful carpets and plentiful seating pleased the eye and gave weary travelers a pleasant place to rest between stops. They explained to the man at the ticket counter what they needed, and he nodded, his expression grave.
"It actually has my boss pretty shook up. I mean, the cops say she wandered off on her own, but he says the whole thing feels off in his gut." He leaned forward and whispered. "He didn't like that cop at all. Said he didn't take his job seriously enough."
"Hmm," said Eleanor. "May we speak with your boss?"
The man relaxed back into his chair. "He ain't here, but the train actually is. Want to see?"
"Please," Eleanor said. "And do you know about the lost and found items from that train?"
"Sure. Hold on."
Three customers asked questions while Eleanor and Lydia waited off to the side. Lydia bounced on her toes the entire time. Eleanor hitched her purse up onto her shoulder. At last, the door opened, and the man motioned for them to come through. On the far side of a communal office space, he pointed at a series of shelves. "Lost and found's in here." He wandered in that direction and pulled down a plastic tub containing a leather satchel and a gold pocket watch.
Lydia lifted the bag and studied it through teary eyes. "This is hers." She fumbled with a frayed corner. "Some guy's dog chewed it up right here. She was furious."
A thorough search proved the bag to be empty of all but a mechanical pencil and a handful of inexpensive paperclips.
"Do you make anything of the watch?" Eleanor asked her. It was a lovely piece, gold with silver highlights that depicted a herd of wild horses.
"It's definitely not the kind of thing I'd expect her to have unless she was giving it as a gift to someone, but then you'd think it would be in a box or something."
Eleanor addressed the man whose attention had drifted back to the front desk. "Is it true that no one knows where on the train these items were found?"
"Yes, ma'am, that's true."
A woman came in through a different door than the one they'd used. She was as tiny as a child with plastic beads braided into her hair that clicked as if her walk was accompanied by her own personal percussion section.
"What's up?"
"These ladies are friends of the girl that went missing. Can you let them onto the train?"
Her face twisted in skepticism. "We ain't doing stuff like that without a warrant or some such, and the police were already here."
He edged toward the couple waiting at the counter. "You know Tony would say it's okay."
"Tony ain't here."
"I'm here. I'm speaking for him."
"Okay, then. You be speaking for Tony, I'll be sure to tell him that if he tries to chew my butt." She lifted the tub from the table and slid it back into place, standing on tip-toe to reach the shelf. "Come on, then."
A back door led to the boarding platform where they made their way through a maze of signs and train cars to a train that sat still and silent at a fair distance from the door. "You all right?" she asked Eleanor.
"Fine, dear. Thank you for your concern." Truthfully, her joints ached, and she was a little out of breath. Until she was asked to get up and move about, she hadn't realized how little she'd been moving about lately. A task was added to her mental to-do list—check out the train, enjoy a gourmet hot dog, take a nice long nap. First thing was first, though. "May I ask your name?"
"Vanessa."
"I'm Eleanor and this is Lydia. We do appreciate you taking time out of your busy workday to help us."
Vanessa waved the words away. "Ain't nothing. I'd rather be doing this than filling out the forms I was working on before."
In the moment after Eleanor boarded the train, Lydia's phone barked like a dog. She held it up for Eleanor to see. "Is that the call you were waiting for?"
"One of them." Eleanor took the phone and answered.
Agent Kline's voice ground into motion without preamble. "Your girl's in it deep."
No surprise there. "What makes you say that?"
"Looked up some info on Matson labs and AI development. Where's the money coming from? What's the long-term marketing plan? Stuff like that. Looks like they had a press conference a few months back touting something that sounds to me like old Rosie the Robot from The Jetsons. Robots that'll run your who life for you. It's like Siri with the skills to tuck your kid in at night and wash the dishes when they're done. Say they'll have a viable product on the market in less than two years. It'll make people using Google look like they're sitting around a campfire banging rocks together. They're saying the things will run the hospitals. They'll never tire out and make mistakes like human doctors and nurses. The money behind it is coming out of the office of one T.J. Maxworth. Smells like a questionable use of tax dollars that has not been presented to the voters to me. Follow that road a little further and you'll find out that Matson put the money behind Maxworth's last election. Some of your usual Washington tit-for-tat, but there are a few folks calling foul on amounts exchanged and missing paper trails."
"Hmm," said Eleanor. "Tell, me, does Anita Gozdziewski still work for Maxworth?"
"There's been a Gozdziewski in the office of the Ohio senate longer than that state's been part of the union. Reckon that family's got more power than half the folks in Washington."
Eleanor thought he was underestimating them. "Thank you, Adam. Will you call me if you come across anything else?"
"I'll keep looking, just so I'll have an excuse to do that."
Eleanor assured him no excuse was needed, thanked him again, disconnected, and handed the cellphone back to Lydia.
"What'd he say?" Lydia asked.
"He said we have a... well, let's say a person of interest, but pinning this down is going to be quite a challenge."
Lydia twisted the badly wrinkled fabric of her skirt. "I believe in you, Nana."
Eleanor patted her hand and followed Vanessa into the heart of the train, hoping that Lydia's faith would be enough to keep both of them afloat for a while because she, for one, was having some serious doubts.