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be frank, he came close to succeeding. Too close. But he fails, and he goes off in a huff for a 3-year field-work project funded by the state department.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “That has some significance to you,” he said.

“It does, but we’ll get to that. Go on with your story.”

“OK, so he’s back. Just got back, as a matter of fact. And even though he’s got a new book, and his vita is looking good, he’s still on this vendetta. He showed up in the newsroom Friday to make threats, trying to blackmail me into helping him take down the provost. And then he referred to my novia and her baby.”

“Madre de dios,” Vic said. He pressed the intercom. “Caroline, could you get my uncle in here? Yes, now!”

There was a light tap on the door, an older version of Vic walked in. Ryan stood, shook his hand.

“Found Ian Black,” Vic told his father. “And he’s here.”

“What?” Ryan demanded. “I’ve told you what I know. You tell me.”

Vic ignored him and summarized what Ryan had said.

“I see,” the older Ruiz said. “I’m Vincent Ruiz, by the way; my nephew didn’t introduce us. Perhaps it should be me who tells you the other piece of the story.

“Some of us in immigration law have felt there was a concentrated effort to unearth those who had been in this country for some time. If you remember, the Trump administration’s early statements were that they were going after the criminals who were here illegally. Turned out there weren’t as many “illegal” immigrants committing crimes as they thought. Mostly undocumented immigrants keep a low profile, because if they commit a crime, they’re likely to get caught and sent back.”

Ryan nodded. “Immigrant communities have lower rates of crime than Anglo communities.” At their surprise, he added, “Took an immigration policy class last year. It was interesting.”

“Good, then this isn’t all new to you. Most Anglos are woefully ignorant,” Vincent Ruiz said. “But the Trump administration had to find the numbers they’d campaigned against, and so they went after the undocumented immigrants embedded in their communities. And to expel them, they had to find them. Not easy. They justified it by saying they were criminals if they came here illegally. And the first they found were like Teresa’s father, who was arrested here before and sent back. Thus, he is legally ‘a criminal’,” he said, making air quotes.

“But the feds still have to find him,” Ryan said, his eyes narrowed in thought. “And the elder Mr. Valdez didn’t have a record.”

“No. Although I think the elder Mr. Valdez was a family company matter. Vic told you?”

Ryan nodded.

“Good. Now there have been rumors, however, of investigators funded by various government agencies, who were in Mexico doing genealogical work. Some of it might be legitimate academic research, I do not know. But some of it? I think they’re looking for people with birth records, who do not have matching death certificates, but aren’t part of the public records after birth either.”

“Son of a bitch,” Ryan said. “They get a research grant. Do scholarship, get a book published, and I wonder who is the publisher? In turn they do genealogical digging for ICE.”

Vincent Ruiz nodded.

“And you think Ian Black might be one of these people.” Ryan said flatly. “You recognized his name.”

“One of our connections in Morelia mentioned a Professor Black,” Vincent Ruiz said. “Most of the Mexican-Americans in the Pacific Northwest have ties to the Michoacán, by the way, of which Morelia is the capital.”

Ryan pondered the situation. “I’d like your permission to share this with the university Provost,” he said at last. “I’m concerned Black is the one pushing ICE to pursue Teresa so aggressively. And he — they — see Rafael as leverage to make her come in. She’s not important to ICE, particularly, but keeping Black happy might be important to them.”

“Which means Teresa is in more danger than we thought,” Vic said to his father. “And so are the people she’s with.”

“We’ll get to that,” Ryan said, grimly. “That’s problem one. It’s personal to me, but solvable. But I can’t bring Teresa home unless Black is dealt with first. His obsession is not that of a sane man.”

“Perhaps a conference call with the Provost is in order,” Vincent Ruiz said thoughtfully.

Ryan gestured to the office phone, and when Vic nodded, he punched in the number for McShane’s direct line.

“Dr. McShane, this is Ryan Matthews,” he said formally. “I’m in my attorney’s office. Do you have time for a conference call about the matter we discussed Friday?”

There was a slight hesitation. “As you know, I prefer to talk in person on this matter. Are you within 15 minutes?” McShane said finally.

“Dr. McShane, this is Vincent Rios,” the older attorney said. “We would be delighted to have you join us here. Perhaps you’d like to stroll down the Park Blocks?” He gave him the address.

“While he’s on his way, let’s talk about you and Teresa,” Vincent Rios said. “As you say, that can be solved. It’s not our first case like her, God help us. But it takes money, a lot of money to solve, and forgive me, but you’re a college student.”

Ryan smiled tightly. He could feel the migraine starting for the day. The vault leaks its poison into my brain, he thought whimsically. But who he was might do him some good for a change.

“Does the company Chandler, Matthews and Brown mean anything to you?”

“Of course,” Rios said. “Old man Chandler’s been dead for a decade or so, and Matthews retired a few years ago. Wait, are you saying you’re related? What? His son? No, grandson?”

Both, Ryan thought with a snort. And wouldn’t that be fun to explain.

“Yes. I have financial resources. And I’m prepared to spend what it takes.”

“Teresa never mentioned that,” Vic said, suspicious of him or protective of her. Ryan was OK with that.

“Teresa didn’t know,” Ryan said. “None of my friends at the university know. I wanted to fit in. I