Free The Chase by Clive Cussler

chief agent in Los Angeles reports that he can find no trace of a Rose Manteca. There is no family by that name owning a ranch within two hundred miles of the city. It looks to me as if the lady has pulled the wool over your eyes. Was she pretty?
    Van Dorn
    Bell smiled to himself. He stuffed the telegram in his pocket, walked to Alexander’s office, and knocked on the door.
    â€œCome in,” Alexander said softly, as if talking to somebody in the same room.
    Barely hearing the words, Bell stepped inside.
    â€œYou’re here to report, I assume,” said Denver’s head agent without prelude.
    Bell nodded. “I wanted to bring you up to date on our activities.”
    â€œI’m listening,” Alexander said without looking up from the papers on his desk or offering Bell a chair.
    â€œI’ve sent Curtis and Irvine out into the field to question the law enforcement officers and any witness to the robberies and killings,” Bell lied.
    â€œIt’s not likely they will dig up anything the local law officials haven’t already provided us.”
    â€œI intend to leave myself on the next train to Los Angeles.”
    Alexander looked up, a suspicious expression in his eyes. “Los Angeles? Why would you go there?”
    â€œI’m not,” Bell answered. “I’m getting off in Las Vegas and taking the spur line to Rhyolite, where I plan to talk to witnesses, if any, on my own.”
    â€œA wise plan.” Alexander almost looked relieved. “I thought for a moment that you were going to Los Angeles because of Miss Manteca.”
    Bell feigned surprise. “You know her?”
    â€œShe sat at my table with my wife and me at the country club party and dance. We’ve met on other occasions. She said you two had met at the Orphans Ball, and she seemed very interested in your work and background. She was especially fascinated by the bank robber/ murderer.”
    I’ll bet she was interested in my work, Bell thought. But he said, “I didn’t know I made an impression on her. She did a pretty good job of brushing me off.”
    â€œMy wife thought Miss Manteca was smitten with you.”
    â€œHardly. All I learned about her was that she came from a wealthy family in Los Angeles.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Alexander replied out of ignorance. “Her father owns a huge spread outside the city.”
    It was obvious to Bell that Alexander had neither investigated Rose nor bothered to be suspicious of her questions about him and the Butcher Bandit case.
    â€œWhen do you expect to return?” asked Alexander.
    â€œI should wind up the Rhyolite investigation and be back within five days.”
    â€œAnd Curtis and Irvine?”
    â€œTen days to two weeks.”
    Alexander refocused his attention on the papers atop his desk. “Good luck,” he said briefly, dismissing Bell.
    Returning to the conference room, Bell relaxed in a swivel chair and propped his feet on the long table. He sipped coffee from a cup Mrs. Murphy had brought earlier. Then he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, as if seeing something on the floor above.
    So his suspicions about Rose Manteca were right on the money. She was not only a fraud but perhaps somehow connected to the Butcher Bandit, and sent to learn what she could of the Van Dorn Detective Agency’s investigation. Bell’s quarry could never be overestimated. He was no ordinary bandit. Hiring the services of a lovely spy was the work of a man who carefully thought out his operation. Rose, or whatever her true identity was, was good. She had no problem burrowing into the confidence of the Denver office director. The groundwork had been carefully laid. It was clearly the work of a professional. Employing a counterfeit meant the bandit had first-rate resources and a network of tentacles that could delve into government and the business community.
    Â 
    W HEN B ELL returned to the Brown Palace, he