re you going to try to see Maitland before you go back to Bell Harbor?" Paul asked Sloan the next morning. She looked as pale and haunted as she had last night, and he felt even guiltier because she didn't seem to have the strength left to be angry with him.

She put a case containing her toiletries into her suitcase and zipped it closed. "Yes, but it won't do any good," she said without looking at him. She hadn't looked at him at all, except when she opened the door to let him in.

"Would it make you feel better to know that I feel lousy about this?"

"I don't care how you feel about anything."

Paul couldn't believe how bad that made him feel. She had trusted him and done her job, and he liked her tremendously. "Okay, would it make you feel better to know why I'm after Carter and what brought me here?"

"Why tell me now when it was 'classified' before?"

"I want you to know now."

She glanced at him for the first time; then she looked away and shrugged.

Paul took her arm and forced her to sit on the bed; then he sat down in a chair across from her. "I know Carter is laundering money for a South American drug cartel that deposits cash at Reynolds Bank and Trust. The cash is accepted, credited to bogus accounts, and the IRS forms are bypassed. The money is wire-transferred by Reynolds Bank into the cartel's offshore bank accounts, where it becomes nice, clean money. Ready for spending."

She looked him right in the eye, and what she said was painfully astute. "You don't know Carter is involved in any of that; you think he is; that's all. If you had any proof, you'd have wiretaps and search warrants."

"Our informant met with a strange accident the day he was going to hand us some proof. The cartel we're dealing with is a pack of animals, but they're more cunning than most of their competition. They've hired prestigious law firms to represent their legitimate business interests here, and they're slowly acquiring political clout. Senator Meade is a particular friend of theirs. I want to take Carter down, but even more, I want to find his contact with the cartel."

"What does any of that have to do with Noah?"

"Maitland is Reynolds Bank's biggest depositor; he has an astonishing number of bank accounts there. He also has nice big boats that periodically go to Central and South America—"

"So does the Holland America cruise line," Sloan mocked bitterly.

Paul ignored the sarcasm. "Maitland has some questionable 'business associates' in those ports."

"Known criminals?" Sloan countered.

"No, but lets not argue about that Let's stick to the issue: Someone has to smuggle the cartel's cash into the States and into Reynolds Bank and Trust. I think Maitland is the one. I also think he brings in drugs with the cash from time to time."

She nodded slightly and got up; then she picked up her suitcase and purse.

"You don't believe any of that, do you?" Paul said.

"About Noah, no. About Carter—I don't know."

She turned at the door. "I've been released under your authority, but I haven't been cleared of the murder charge yet. I'd appreciate it if you'd handle that."

Paul stood up and looked helplessly at her. She had so much quiet dignity and she was so disgusted with him that he felt like one of the creeps he'd been talking about.

"Good-bye," she said.

He nodded silently because he couldn't think of anything to say.