Bloody Politics (12 page)

I stared at her. “That's ridiculous. I don't need a security escort.”

“Well, after hearing what Danny has learned so far, I think you do. He said Prestige did a perimeter check around your property, looking for cameras of any kind. And they found one on the utility pole directly in front of your house. From that angle, Danny said they could see anyone arriving and the entire front of the property and driveway.” Samantha eyed me over her glass as she sipped.

That got my attention. Good God! Somebody really
was
watching me.
Why?

“Danny also said he's going to find out who's doing this, Molly. And from the sound of that man's voice, I do not doubt it.” She swirled the bourbon. “He also told me those photos were phony. Probably Photoshopped, or whatever they call it. And I believe him.”

I stared at Samantha, but didn't have anything to say. Too much was running through my head right now.
Why would someone be watching me? And why would they send me doctored photos of Danny?
It didn't make any sense.

“I … I don't understand. Why would someone do that? Why would they be watching me?”

“Danny also said it wasn't about you, Molly. It's about him. Someone from his past is behind this.”

The past. Come back to haunt Danny. The sins of our past. None of us can escape them. No matter how far away we run. Not even Danny.

thirteen

Monday morning

I stared at the
fresh-faced young man standing on Samantha's front step, clearly waiting for me to join him. A jet-black Lexus was parked in her circular driveway. No lettering on the side. “I really don't need an escort,” I protested. “I've been walking safely to Senator Russell's house every day for months.”

“I understand, ma'am. But my superiors said the situation has changed. Someone is watching you, following you. So you need protection. By the way, I'm Jeremy.” With his blond, buzzed-cut hair and square jaw, I guessed he was probably right out of the military. He still had the starched look of a salute about him as he stood waiting by the open passenger door.

“All right, all right. It's too early in the morning to argue with superior powers.” I gave an exaggerated sigh and walked to the car. “What about my car?”

“Don't worry, ma'am. We'll bring it over to your house for you.”

“Molly, why don't you give me the keys and I'll follow behind you two. Then this nice young man can bring me back home. Would that pass muster with your superiors, Jeremy?”

“Yes, ma'am. That would be very convenient. Thank you.”

“Are you sure you want to be driving in this awful rush hour traffic?” I asked Samantha as I dug the keys from my purse and handed them over. “This is a little early for you, isn't it? I'm amazed to see you dressed.” I couldn't resist.

Samantha flashed one of her brilliant smiles as she took the keys. “A little fresh air in the morning will do me good,” she replied, then slipped on a jacket and headed to the side driveway where my car was parked.

Jeremy closed the door after me and scurried around to climb into the driver's seat. He quickly started the car, then glanced at me and paused. “Seat belt, ma'am.”

I dutifully complied and held my tongue. Getting bossed around “for my own good” was hard enough. But I didn't think I could take the “ma'am” for very long.

_____

Albert approached me as I stood in the doorway of my office. “Molly, Luisa and I are going out on some errands. Is there anything you need while we're out?”

“Thanks, Albert. I'm good. A fresh pot of Luisa's coffee is in the kitchen. That's all I need.” I saluted him with my mug and watched as he headed for the hallway leading to the back entrance. I also noticed Casey walking my way. From the look on his face, I had a feeling he'd already been updated on the change in my “security situation,” as escort Jeremy referred to it.

“You have a minute, Molly?” Casey asked as he approached.

“Sure. I can tell you've either talked with my new escort Jeremy, or you've had a call from his superiors at Prestige Systems.”

“Yes, Jeremy and I did have a talk after you arrived this morning. But I also had a call from Danny.” He looked at me, clearly concerned.

I glanced away and walked back to my desk chair. “Well, then, you know about the unknown watcher.”

“He won't stay unknown for long. Danny told me he's arranged for Prestige to shadow you for the next few days. He thinks this guy is obviously watching you and may be following you as well. If so, Danny thinks the security guys can take photos and they'll start matching them against files. Identify this guy.”

I sank into my chair and stared up at Casey. “What files? This guy could be anybody.”

“Danny thinks he's former military. Probably served with Danny. Something must have happened for this guy to hold a grudge so long. When you've been a career Marine, you've pulled a lot of tours all over. You're bound to make some enemies. Hopefully not a lot.” He gave me a half smile.

“Okay. That makes sense. But why now? And if Danny is this guy's target, why go through me?”

“Well, we haven't figured that out yet.”

“
We?
Have you been snared into this drama as well?”

Casey gave a good-natured shrug. “I'm anxious to help any way I can. Above all, we want to keep you safe.”

I leaned back in my desk chair and took a sip of coffee. “So, let me get this straight. I'm now going to be ‘shadowed' or followed everywhere I go by a security team from Prestige, right?”

“Correct. But you'll never notice them. Their job is to stay unobserved and photograph everyone in your vicinity.”

“Well, tonight will be a good test, then. I'm going to meet Loretta Wade at an Irish pub in Eastern Market. So that ought to be fun. These security guys are going to be busy watching all the pub-goers.”

He furrowed his brow. “Who's Loretta Wade? I don't recall you telling me about her.”

I smiled. “I don't tell you about everyone I know, Casey. Loretta is a senior researcher at the Congressional Research Services. Natasha Jorgensen told me she was the researcher who helped Quentin Wilson, so naturally I called her up to find out what he was looking for back in July. And it turns out Loretta knew Karen and was close to Celeste Allard. So she's helped me a lot whenever I've had questions.”

Casey nodded. “Which is most of the time. You must have even more questions if you two are meeting for dinner.” His cell phone started to ring then. “Don't worry. These guys are professionals, so they'll handle the pub crowd,” Casey said as he reached for his ringing cell phone and backed out of my office.

I turned my attention to the computer screen and all the new emails waiting for me.
Professionals
,
huh?
Then why did I feel like bait? They were definitely using me as bait. Trying to draw this guy out of the shadows.
Who was this guy anyway?

Monday evening

“I'm going to cut through some other streets, ma'am. Get out of this Pennsylvania Avenue traffic. We'll cut back over once we get closer to Eastern Market.”

I caught Jeremy's glance in his rearview mirror as I pulled out my cell phone. Might as well make some calls while we drove. “Do whatever you have to, Jeremy. Rush hour is wretched all over the city. It's hard to escape. But if you've got shortcuts, go for it.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

I just sighed, giving in to the respectful “ma'am.” Clearly, Jeremy had been doing it for so long in the military, it was a permanent part of his vocabulary. Meanwhile, I figured if I was going to be driven around in a black limo, I might as well enjoy it. And make use of the time spent in the car.

Unfolding a piece of paper I'd stuffed in my purse, I punched in the phone number that Loretta had given me for George Trudeau. I watched Jeremy weave through some of the numbered streets away from the main thoroughfares while I listened to Trudeau's phone ring. He picked up after six rings. His voice was a quiet baritone as he answered.

“Mister Trudeau? My name is Molly Malone, and our mutual acquaintance at the Congressional Research Services, Loretta Wade, gave me your name and number. She suggested I give you a call because I've got some research questions.” I deliberately left it at that.

“Oh, yes, Loretta Wade. I remember her. She's a charming woman. Smart too. One of the smarter researchers working there. And I should know. I worked there for thirty years—my entire career.”

I decided a little flattery never hurt. “Thirty years? Well, now I know why Loretta suggested I call you. You see, my questions concern some research that former Congressman Eric Grayson did years ago. Loretta said you were a senior researcher then, so you might recall him.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Ah, yes. I remember Congressman Grayson well. Yes, I do recall his coming to the Library of Congress many times. As you said, it was years ago.”

“Yes, well—”

“Who did you say you were again? And why exactly are you

inquiring about Congressman Grayson's research?”

His tone had changed somewhat, a little sharper, I noticed. “I'm Molly Malone, and I was Senator Robert Malone's daughter. Eric Grayson became my brother-in-law when I married his younger brother, David. You may recall that David served six years in the House of Representatives too. Of course, that was several years ago.”

His voice returned to the friendlier tone immediately. “Oh, my, yes … I do remember your young husband, Ms. Malone. And, of course I remember your father. He was quite a man. An exceptional senator.” He paused. “I'm afraid we may not see his like again.”

I was touched by his comment. “I couldn't agree with you more, Mr. Trudeau. It was another day, I'm afraid. But, I'm presently working for a newly elected senator who has some of my father's strengths. Integrity and passion, for starters.”

“Let me guess. Would that be Senator John Russell by any chance?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Spot on, Mr. Trudeau. I see Loretta didn't exaggerate when she said you were the smartest one she'd ever met over at Research Services.”

“Please call me George. And send your friend my thanks for her compliment. What area of research are you interested in? May I call you Molly?”

“Please do. My niece Karen continued her father's research into international banking and monetary issues and expanded it to cover any financial legislation that's been passed recently. After Karen's death, I decided to continue her research as a tribute to her. She was a very special young woman.” I didn't say any more.

George Trudeau was silent for a moment. “I do remember Congressman Grayson speaking about her years ago. And I even met her when she first joined the House staff of Congressman Jackson. She was an impressive young lady.” He paused again. “I'll be glad to help you with any questions you have, Molly.

“As you know, I've retired from the federal government, but I am working part-time for the Arlington County Library system. After thirty years of commuting, I really hate to traipse into the District unless forced. Would you mind too terribly if we met over here at the library in Arlington? It's right in Ballston. You could easily take the Metro.”

“That's not a problem at all, George. Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday night? I might be able to leave my office here in Georgetown a little early and meet you there. Would either of those evenings work?”

“Tuesday night would be better. I don't have to work late. We're always busy, but there are plenty of quiet corners where we can talk.”

“That sounds perfect. I'll see you there tomorrow night at five.” I clicked off. Prestige Security's team would certainly get a workout. An Irish pub tonight and a busy library tomorrow. I glanced out the car window and was surprised to see us turning off Pennsylvania Avenue and onto Eighth Street.

“We'll be there in just a moment Ms. Malone,” Jeremy announced as he slowed to accommodate pedestrians and jaywalkers. They were probably going to one of the caf
é
s and coffee shops along that historic section of Barracks Row on Eighth Street in Southeast D.C. The stately brick buildings housing the Marine Corps Barracks rose behind the brick walls surrounding them. This area was once the oldest commercial area in the District of Columbia, because it was so close to the busy Washington Navy Yard. Established in the early 1800s to house U.S. Marines, Barracks Row was now home to the Marine Corps Band.

Jeremy pulled the Lexus to a stop, double-parking along the side of the street. “Don't bother trying to open my door, Jeremy,” I said as I reached for the handle. “I'll hop out here. You'll just infuriate the other drivers even more. Shall I text you before I leave or are you coming inside too?”

“I'll be parked in the alley around the corner, ma'am. The security team will let me know when to bring the car around.” He glanced over his shoulder.

Sure enough, car horns started to blow, so I exited the Lexus as quickly as possible. Scooting between two parked cars, I stepped onto the curb and looked up at the bright sign illuminated above the pub's front door. My name in lights. Loretta did that on purpose I thought with a smile as I yanked the door open.

_____

“Where are you now?” Raymond asked as he steered his car through the traffic morass of I-66 heading into Virginia. What had he told Trask the other day? He actually preferred the congested interstate to the speedy Metro.

“In front of an Irish pub over on Barracks Row. Named
Molly Malone's
if you can believe it,” Trask snickered.

“She still being driven around by the security guy?”

“Yep. Looks like he's fresh out of the service. He just dropped her off at the front door and he's headed around the corner. Parking somewhere, probably.”

“You got the cycle, right?”

“Yeah. I'll park it and put on the shaggy professor look, then see who Malone's meeting.”

“Okay, Professor. Let me know what you find out.” Raymond clicked off and sped up enough to cut off another driver from slipping in front of him, just as another round of coughing started.

_____

Loretta leaned over the plate of corned beef and sliced brown bread. “I checked all of those names you gave me.” She lowered her voice, so I leaned forward to hear in the crowded pub. “The ones in Wilson's notebook—Ryker, Dunston, and Holmberg. And the names Eric Grayson mentioned in his notes—Montclair and Kasikov.”

We were seated at a small table along the wall, directly across from the bar in the cozy pub. The owners had done a great job of re-creating that Irish pub atmosphere, and the place was packed.

“Is Dunston's son definitely working for a Stuttgart bank?” I asked, then took a drink of the delicious Guinness. My plate of aged cheddar and pear slices was barely touched. Loretta and I said we'd share, but we'd done more talking than eating.

“Yes, he is. It took a little searching, but I found the foreign employees list.” She took a sip of her lighter brew. “What fascinated me the most was digging into these other guys. We already know Ryker and Dunston are politicians. And Holmberg's an economist, former EU Minister, professor, all that. But it took some searching to find the others.”