Minotaur Read Free Page B

do—­he called the local police. Now, there’s no crime against throwing away spent rounds, of course, but the police do get nervous when they see evidence that someone has been throwing away this much ammunition from an assault rifle. They called the ATF, who got very nervous.”
    “So I own an AK-­47,” Favorov said. “I was teaching my son to shoot.” Favorov shrugged. “All perfectly legal. Yes, I own an assault rifle, but it has been modified so that it cannot fire in full automatic mode. And, anyway, you don’t work for the ATF.”
    “No, no, I don’t,” Chapel said. “I never would have heard about this case, actually, if things hadn’t started getting weird after that. You see, the ATF has some very bright scientists who do nothing all day but study bullets and casings. They found that these casings were an almost perfect match for another one they had on file. One that had been used to shoot an FBI agent about six months ago.”
    Favorov dropped his napkin on the table. “So now I am a murderer?”
    “Of course not. The man who shot the FBI agent was arrested within days of the shooting. Nobody you would know—­a white supremacist out in Idaho.” Chapel waved one hand in the air, dismissing the very idea of a connection between the scumbag killer and the millionaire in front of him.
    “Well, good,” Favorov said. “Anyway. This is not exactly a peculiar type of ammunition. The 7.62 by thirty-­nine millimeter is probably the most common type of rifle ammunition in the world. Maybe this murderer and I bought rounds from the same supplier. Who knows?”
    “Sure,” Chapel said. “So far, you’re right, there’s no connection. No reason for me to get involved, and certainly no reason for me to be bringing this to you. By the way—­who did you buy these rounds from, if I can ask?”
    Favorov gulped down some more wine. Fiona came around behind him and refilled his glass. He didn’t even look at her. “I have a friend, in the city. I can give you his information, he’ll vouch for me.”
    “That would be very helpful. Maybe we can put this behind us, once I track down this friend,” Chapel said. He smiled. “Sorry, I know that was kind of dramatic, but there’s a lot of pressure on us to close this case.”
    “Oh?”
    Chapel nodded. “Yes. And I, for one, will be glad to be done with it. You know, it’s funny, a case like this—­it’s not about running around dodging bullets and fighting bad guys. It’s more like the homework I used to do in school. A lot of reading. I just learned recently about taggants and trace elements in gunpowder. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”
    Favorov shook his head and drank more of his wine.
    “It turns out—­and forgive me, but I find this kind of thing fascinating—­it turns out that every batch of gunpowder made, anywhere in the world, is slightly different. A lot of them have what are called taggant chemicals added to them. So that a forensic expert can know where that particular kind of gunpowder was made. For instance, every batch of gunpowder made in the US has taggants added.”
    Favorov glanced over at Fiona. Chapel wondered why. He put that thought aside and continued. “The residue of the gunpowder in these casings,” he said, “doesn’t contain any taggants, though. Which is weird. So the ATF looked instead for trace elements. Radioactive isotopes, say, or particles of dust that got into the gunpowder during its manufacture. That turned up a match right away. The trace element profile on these casings is very distinctive, and it’s one that the Pentagon knows a lot about. Now maybe you see why I got called in to this case.”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Favorov said.
    “The trace elements in these casings only come from one gunpowder mill in the entire world.”
    Favorov had been trained by the world’s second-­best intelligence apparatus. His face did not shift or change or reveal