D.C. Dead (21 page)

“Call the D.C. cops?”

“Right. It was Padgett who called Fair, so I guess he’s on the investigation.”

Holly looked at her watch. “It’s pretty early,” she said.

“Padgett is already at work, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” She got up, went to the phone, made the call, and came back. “It’s almost exactly like the Milly Hart murder,” she said, “even to the appearance of the wounds.”

“Who found her?” Stone asked.

“A housekeeper, who was sleeping downstairs. She came up to start breakfast and found Mrs. Brandon in the entrance hall, in her nightgown.”

Dino nodded. “Killer rings the bell, Muffy gets out of bed and answers the door, killer whacks Muffy and leaves.”

Stone looked thoughtful. “Seems to me I remember from our visit to the house that there was an intercom for the doorbell, and they had a multiline business phone system, same system, as mine in New York.”

“So?” Holly asked.

Dino spoke up. “So, Muffy Brandon knew her killer. Why else would she get out of bed and go to the front door? If it had been the milkman or the newspaper boy, she’d have told him to fuck off and then gone right back to sleep.”

“Good point,” Holly said.

“I wonder how many other women Brix Kendrick was sleeping with?” Stone said.

“Why do you care?” Holly asked.

“Because it’s a group of women who are dying at an alarming rate,” Stone said. “I’d really like to know if there were others, so they can be warned.”

“How are you going to find out if there were others?” Holly said. “Brix is dead, and so are the only two other women you know he was sleeping with. So is his wife, who might have known.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find out who the others might be,” Dino said.

“Why not?” Holly asked.

“Because if there were others and someone knew about them, we’d have heard about it at Fair Sutherlin’s dinner party the other night. The people there seemed to know
everything
.”

“It’s Washington,” Stone said.

34

TODD BACON WENT OVER HIS CHECKLIST AGAIN, READING IT aloud so Tank Wheeler could see that he had forgotten nothing. He walked down the long table, pointing at items and checking them off his list.

“Perfect, Todd,” Tank said. “You’re in the groove already. Now let’s get those two officers down here and go over it all with them.” Tank picked up a phone and spoke to someone. “They’re on their way,” he said.

“Tank,” Todd said, “did you ever work with Teddy Fay when he was here?”

“Sure I did. Teddy trained me. He must have put me through hundreds of quizzes like the one you’ve just gone through. Teddy was terrific at briefing agents, and a genius at anticipating what kind of equipment they would need. He invented a big chunk of the electronic stuff that we still use to equip field people.”

“I heard that he was important to the department,” Todd said.

“He was more than important, he was essential. The Agency tried everything to get him to stay on, but he retired right on time. He’d made a bundle inventing kitchen and household gadgets that got sold on television in the middle of the night, so he could afford a happy retirement.”

“I heard that, too,” Todd said.

“Funny, they’re still selling some of his inventions, and I guess they got someone to replace him who could come up with the gadget ideas, because you turn on the TV when you can’t sleep, and they’re selling them right now.”

That notion stuck in Todd’s mind, but he had to push it to the back of his brain, because the two young officers arrived for their briefing. The man looked to be in his mid-twenties, though Todd knew he was probably older, and the girl appeared to be no older than eighteen or nineteen, though she was probably older, too. Todd thought it was brilliant casting for the mission.

Todd and Tank introduced themselves, and Todd began the briehfing. “Here are your passports,” he said, handing them each one. “You’ve already committed your legend to memory, and the dates in the passports are the ones you’ve memorized. You’re university students at Leeds, in the English Midlands, and you’re hiking in the mountains east of Beirut.” He picked up a small leather case and handed it to them. “This is a perfectly ordinary GPS navigator, made by Garmin, their latest model. When you activate it in Beirut, it will already have your track from England in memory, where a good tech can extract it. That will help support your legend, if you’re interrogated.”

Todd held up two smaller, flatter boxes. “These are the GPS units that really matter. When turned on, they will broadcast an encrypted position that will tell us exactly where you are, even if you’re separated. You’ll hide this on your body: you, Jim, will glue it behind your scrotum; you, Carey, will put it inside your vagina. Those are the places least likely to be searched, but don’t count on their not being found. If you are arrested, hide them in the room where you’re being held and turn them on. If rescue is an option, these units will help make it possible.”

He continued the briefing, holding up each piece of equipment, demonstrating it when necessary, then passing on to the next item. “Nothing you’re carrying will identify you as anything but what you say you are, from your passports to the contents of your wallets.”

When he had finished the briefing, he held up two foil-wrapped condoms. “These are your way out, if everything goes wrong. Inside is a flat vinyl-encased container holding a small amount of a clear liquid. You can conceal it in your mouth, between the cheek and the gum. It won’t dissolve, but if you bite it hard, the liquid will spill, and you’ll have only seconds to live. As you were told in your training, it will always be your decision as to whether or not to use it, but if things get so bad that you no longer want to live, it’s there.”

Todd watched as the two packed their clothes and equipment into their backpacks, then he shook their hands and sent them on their way.

“That was good,” Tank said. “You didn’t sugarcoat it.”

“How can you sugarcoat taking your own life?” Todd asked.

“Joke about it. That was what I did in the beginning, but Teddy Fay brought me up short and told me to be direct with them. I felt better about it when I was.”

That brought Todd’s mind back to where it had been before the briefing. In his pursuit of Teddy, the man had never seemed short of money. He had bought and discarded cars along the way, and that took cash. Teddy must still be designing those kitchen gadgets, he figured, and he still had a way to get them on TV and get paid for them. Exploring that might lead to finding him.

Then Todd stopped himself.
I can’t go on obsessing about Teddy Fay,
he told himself.
That part of my career and my life is over, and it’s not a good idea to revisit it
.

He joined Tank in the cafeteria for lunch, and put Teddy Fay out of his mind.

35

STONE ARRIVED AT FAIR SUTHERLIN’S APARTMENT AND WAS greeted with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, with just a little tongue. Fair was dressed in tight jeans and a V-necked cashmere sweater that showed an inviting amount of cleavage, and her breasts seemed unfettered under the sweater.

“I had a tougher day than I had planned,” she said, “so do you mind if we just order in some Chinese?”

“Fine with me,” Stone replied.

She handed him a menu. “You choose, and order too much so I’ll have leftovers to keep me alive for a few days. I’ll get the trays ready.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

Stone consulted the menu and noted that Fair had checked the dishes she preferred, probably on an earlier occasion. He chose the marked dishes that he liked, too, and called the restaurant, ordering pork pot stickers, shrimp balls, Yang Chow fried rice, General Tso’s chicken, orange beef, sweet-and-sour shrimp, and Mongolian beef, then he went to the bar. Fair had been drinking scotch on his previous visit, so he poured her a Chivas Regal and found some Knob Creek for himself, then he took the drinks into the kitchen.

Fair was arranging trays containing napkins, silverware, wineglasses, and little individual salt and pepper shakers. He handed her the scotch. “That looks beautiful,” he said of the trays. “When I order Chinese at home, I tend to eat straight out of the cartons.”

“I do that, too,” she said, “when there are no witnesses.” She took a gulp of her scotch. “Thanks for remembering,” she said.

“Thanks for having my bourbon.” He took a sip. “How did you find your way to the White House?” he asked.

“When I was a senior in college, at UVA, I volunteered to work for a Democratic candidate for Congress, as research for an eventual thesis for a master’s degree in political science. To my surprise, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and the congressman-elect offered me a job on his staff. I didn’t take it, but I had met some interesting figures in the party during the campaign, one of them Tim Coleman, the deputy chief of staff for Senator Hart, who gave me his card and told me to keep in touch. Just before I graduated, Tim called and invited me to come to Washington for a talk. He introduced me to the senator, whom I admired, and they talked me into forgetting my master’s and joining the Hart staff.

“I began as deputy press secretary, and after a couple of years of that Tim got promoted to chief of staff, and I became his deputy.”

“That sounds like a wonderful opportunity,” Stone said.

“I got lucky,” she replied. “When Senator Hart died, Tim went to the White House, and the senator’s appointed replacement hired me to be his chief of staff. The guy knew nothing, and that made me look like I knew everything, but I have to say, I did a good job for him. That led to a job in the press office at the White House, during Will Lee’s first term, and when he got reelected, Tim Coleman moved me over as one of his two deputies.”