Claire Gulliver #02 - Washington Weirdos (11 page)

Jack pulled out the book and after a little studying said, “Fifty-eight thousand, one hundred and fifty-six in chronological order beginning at the intersection.” He pointed.

“Did you see those men?” She nodded at the men still sitting on the lawn. “After all this time and they’re still having a hard time with it. I felt like I wanted to join them, to hear their story.” She paused, watching them. “I know it was sad. It’s obvious it is still sad.”

Jack nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Did you go?”

He shook his head. “I was lucky. But I knew a lot who did. Some didn’t come back and some came back different.”

“The young man who lived down the street from us went. I was in Junior High School, and I had a huge crush on him. He used to mow our lawn. His family was so proud of him. Then he was killed. The whole neighborhood mourned. It brought the war on television right into our homes. The family moved away the next year and we never heard from them again. I don’t think they ever recovered.”

“Want to find his name? What year was it, do you remember?”

She looked at him and, realizing she did want to see it, she nodded. “I was in the seventh grade, so it must have been 1970 or thereabouts.”

“See all those people up at that end? There are lists of names cross-indexed with where the name is located on the wall. Come on, we’ll see what we can find.”

Finding his name was satisfying, but locating it on the wall, just one of the thousands, was depressing. It was all that was left of the fun-loving, vibrant young man she knew. They left the Wall the second time in a somber mood and meandered slowly past the Lincoln Memorial again to the other side where the Korean War Veterans Memorial was located. This Memorial had its own black granite wall, albeit smaller and covered with pictures instead of names. This wall led to a pool. The pool, reflecting the black billowing clouds racing overhead, seemed to absorb the light. The afternoon had suddenly become ominously dark. They turned from the pool back towards the Lincoln Memorial and found themselves facing directly the larger-than-life steel sculptures of the soldiers marching across the field. The last soldier in the line appeared to be nervously checking behind him as he struggled to keep up. In the dimming light these figures looked real. Too real!

Lightning flashed and an almost instantaneous clap of thunder caused the hair on Claire’s nape to stand on end and provided an appropriate sound effect for the scene in front of them.

“Guess Charlie knew what he was talking about,” Jack muttered as he fumbled in his backpack for the umbrella. “We need to find some shelter. It’s going to pour in about...” The umbrella snapped into position and he held it over them just as the skies opened.

People were running for cover in the darkness lit eerily by the flashes of lightning. The thunder spurred them on. Claire, being a California girl, had never seen a storm like this. It felt as if they were in a battlefield with explosions all around them. She didn’t need anyone to tell her how dangerous it was. She ran blindly, relying on Jack’s arm around her, supporting her, pulling her to guide her in the right direction. They pounded up the steps with the others seeking refuge, the water bouncing up from the steps as the rain poured down, rolling off the others around them, and drenching them to the skin. They squeezed into the mass of people huddled around the base of Lincoln, under the roof of the Lincoln Memorial. People were wedged in the space tightly almost as if they were all hugging each other, trying to stay as far away from the exposed front as possible.

She buried her face in Jack’s shoulder, cringing at each new clap of thunder, feeling the ground vibrate with the fury of the storm.

“I think the worst is over.” Jack’s voice finally spoke softly in her ear.

She was disoriented. She blinked furiously, realizing her eyes had been scrunched tightly closed as if that would save her. Now it was more like twilight on the large platform and the crowd was not so dense. She could see that many people had already taken the opportunity to leave as the rain let up a bit. She shivered. It wasn’t really cold but she was chilled.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll forget my visit to the Lincoln Memorial.” She tried to squeeze some water out of her skirt. Looking around for her hat, she gave up; it could have fallen off anywhere along the way.

They moved to the front, poised on the long flight of stairs and looked over the Mall. It was definitely getting brighter. A few stray beams of sunlight broke through the clouds and hit the reflecting pool stretching out in front of the Memorial. Refracted light danced from the dripping trees, all the brighter against the background of black clouds retreating to the East.

“Well, we’re a pretty mess. That umbrella Charlie gave us didn’t help much, did it?”

Claire had to laugh. He did look a bit like a drowned cat. Then glancing down she realized she looked as bad, maybe worse.

“I suggest we see if we can find a cab and head over to my place. I think I have enough clean, dry clothes for both of us, and then maybe we can put your things in the dryer.” He eyed her dress doubtfully. “I don’t know what it’s going to do to either of our reputations if I bring you home in an entirely different outfit.”

“Oh, I see. This is a ploy to get me up to your place and get my clothes off.”

He brightened. “What a good idea!”

She suddenly felt lighthearted, having survived what she was certain was her end. “I don’t know about wearing your clothes. I’ll feel very bad if they don’t fit,” she said, dubiously eying his narrow hips. But the thought of dry clothes was really too tempting to even think of refusing.

“Maybe we can even have a cuppa while we wait,” he offered tentatively.

That did it, the offer she couldn’t refuse. So she headed down the stairs ignoring the light rain as it couldn’t do any more damage to either of them.

It wasn’t easy getting a cab. Finally, Jack threw himself in front of one slowing for the light and wouldn’t move until Claire got the door open and in. They ignored the cabbie’s disgust at their wet clothes dripping on his plastic seats. They weren’t getting out until he delivered them to Jack’s apartment building near DuPont Circle.

Claire used two towels to get dry. She helped herself to a pair of Jack’s running shorts and an old sweatshirt with sleeves shortened by a few hacks from the scissors. After donning a pair of white athletic socks and taking a final swipe through her hair with his comb, she felt one hundred percent better.

“Where’s the dryer?”

Jack led her to a utility closet containing a washer/dryer stack and she dumped the sodden mess of her clothes in the drum. “I wish I could put my sandals and purse in there, but I guess they’ll have to dry by themselves.” Then she looked around. It was a small apartment but had been modernized to include the necessary utilities. And it looked comfortable enough.

“Have you lived here long?”

“About two weeks. It belongs to the company. I’m just using it while I’m here.”

That explained the lack of personal touches.

“Where do you live, Jack?” she asked, suddenly curious. This didn’t look like the glamorous lifestyle the famous agent James Bond led.

“Everywhere; nowhere.” He moved into the little kitchen space and spooned tea into a pot before pouring the contents of the steaming kettle over the leaves.

“Where do you keep your things?”

He got out cups, milk, sugar, spoons and a package of something and put them on the table in front of the window.

“What things? I travel very light.”

“Everyone has things. You know, pictures, mementos? Stuff? Where do you keep your stuff?”

He brought the teapot to the table, setting it in front of Claire. “Well, I keep some boxes in a cousin’s attic. It’s just junk, mementos from high school, things from when my daughter was a baby and some stuff from my parent’s home that didn’t seem right to sell or give away. I guess when I retire I’ll get it out. But for now it’s easier to do without.”

He poured the tea and Claire added milk to hers before taking a sip of the fragrant brew. She picked up the package reading the label,
McVitie’s, The Original Digestive
.

“Oh, I love these.” She tore back the wrapping with enthusiasm, biting into one of the crunchy graham cookies. “They’re so good with tea. This reminds me of being in England. I loved having tea in the afternoons.”

“There’s a little shop in Georgetown that specializes in English products. I did a run by there last weekend to get tea and a few of my favorite things. Can you find these in California?”

“You know, I haven’t looked but I’m going to when I get back. I had forgotten all about them and they’re too good for that.”

They sat sipping their tea, the swooshing sound of the dryer tumbling Claire’s clothes in the background, the light from the window growing brighter as the sun now broke through the clouds in earnest. The rain had completely stopped. Just the eaves and the leaves were still dripping.

“Its not even close to being over, is it?” Her voice was low and calm.

“Pardon?” Jack thought she was talking about the storm.

“I said it’s not over. I was just fooling myself. It felt safe out there in California but it was only a myth. It’s not over. There are still too many questions with no answers.” She looked into Jack’s eyes. “And Guiness, or Rosa, or whoever she is has never been found.

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re still looking for her, still on the case, so to speak.”

Jack slowly shook his head. “You’ve got it wrong. We’re still working on it. That’s true.... But we have a big group, and then there are the British authorities and Interpol, so it’s an even larger group involved with this case. I did my part. Now the rest are doing theirs. I’m here because I’m doing some training for my next assignment. It’s just like I told you.”

“Sure and how very convenient. You just happened to be following me in the Mall when that weirdo attacked me. Come on, Jack. I’m a big girl. I can take the truth.”

“I know it sounds fishy, but that’s exactly how it happened. And so far we’ve not made any connection of that incident to any terrorist activities. I know I said I don’t believe in coincidences but sometimes they do happen. And when we find one, then we just have to let it go.”

Claire refilled both cups, added milk to hers and crunched into another biscuit. “I talked with Marian Kirkpatrick. She’s head of Human Resources for Vantage. Do you know her?”

“Redhead? A little older? “

Claire nodded.

“Well, I talked to her a bit at the meeting the other day, but I can’t say I know her. Why?”

“I had lunch with her today.”

“That’s right; something about stress counseling or something, wasn’t it?”

She looked at him strangely. Did everybody know everything about everyone, or did they just think they did?

“Actually, no. Not that at all.”

That got his attention.

“Look, Jack. How well did your people check out Carol Daley?”

“Through a microscope. In fact, they’re still checking all the details. Why?”

“Well, did they find out, for instance, that Marian Kirkpatrick and Carol Daley were best of friends?”

Jack couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Did they find out that they were college roommates and that Carol Daley was instrumental in getting Marian her position at Vantage?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t hear the details.”

“Marian was so sure that Carol wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize one of Vantage’s flights that she showed me her picture. She wanted to make sure the woman I spoke to was the real Carol Daley.

”I mean, how weird is that?” Claire could almost see the wheels turning in Jack’s brain. “It was the same person, no doubt about it. But Marian just can’t believe it.

“She says she’s known her too long and too well. People don’t just change like that. The Carol Daley she knew would never have participated knowingly in any plan to damage Vantage Airlines.”

She paused, thinking. “Maybe her part was just a fluke. Maybe she didn’t have anything to do with the plot.”

“No! No way. There are coincidences and coincidences. But Carol was instrumental in making sure their plan worked. They needed her, or someone, to get that computer through security and on your plane. They wouldn’t leave it to chance. They’re too professional for that.

“Carol Daley had to be a part of it.” Jack was so certain that Claire believed him.

“So, what else did Marian tell you?”

Claire shrugged. “Carol was having an affair with a married man before she transferred to London. That’s what kind of person she was. This man was apparently the love of her life. But she felt so bad about the fact that he was married, she broke up with him and moved across the ocean. Marian thought he might have an important position in the government, because Carol was so careful about keeping all hints to his identity private. Marian was sure Carol was protecting him, assuming she would have known who he was if Carol had mentioned his name. The only reason Marian brought that up was Carol called her at the office the day before the incident in London. Carol was upset because he had contacted her after all that time. He was apparently now free and wanted to see her. Marian couldn’t talk then and told Carol she’d call her back. But, of course, it never happened,” she said sadly. “It probably had no relevance, but it’s strange.”

“So what did Marian want you to do?”

“Nothing really. She just had to make sure it was really her Carol involved in London, and she asked me to tell her all the details of our meeting in case there was something that would help her to understand what happened.”

“Do you want more tea?” Jack asked.

“No, thanks. I’ll check on my clothes.” She plucked at the sweatshirt. “Not that I don’t appreciate the use of yours...”

She found them still a little damp and turned on the dryer for a short cycle. Her shoes and purse were still very wet, but she remembered seeing one of those wall hairdryers the hotels used in the bathroom. She spent a few minutes blasting her purse. The inside had some kind of waterproof lining and was dry but the fabric on the outside had gotten soaked. She considered her sandals, then decided she would just wear them wet and ignore the squishing sound when she walked.