“It would help if I knew—“
Nero’s voice was sharp and brooked no argument. “No, it would not.”
Racine stood. "I'll take care of it."
Mr. Nero allowed himself a smile. "Gant's ghost is not to die before that tape is on this desk. And Mrs. Masterson. I would like to talk to her to see what her husband told her.”
Racine blinked. “But—“
“Allow an old man his curiosity,” Nero said, cutting Racine off.
Racine frowned. "But I thought—"
"Ah, thinking," Nero interrupted once more. "That's my job, Mister Racine, and I've already thought about this situation. No need for you to waste what little talent you have in that area on this. I have to assume Mister Gant would have played his cards close to his vest but he certainly wouldn't have wanted those cards to be buried with him. After all there is Jessie and his son, Bobbie, to consider."
Racine bit the inside of his lip, waiting on Nero's words.
"From a hair sample we found at Gant's cabin we think his ghost is a woman."
Racine assimilated that startling piece of information. “The woman from Berlin?”
“Her name is Neeley,” Nero said.
“She’s been with Gant all these years?” The concept was quite strange to Racine.
“I believe she has,” Nero said. “Now you understand why I chose you for this.”
Racine bridled at the reference. It was well known in the Cellar that Racine had no problem taking contracts on women. Not all of the specialists in the Cellar shared Racine's attitude. Racine said, to those who cared to listen, that if women wanted equality, he was happy to oblige.
Nero slid a piece of paper across the desk. “That’s an Agency number in Operations. Someone with quite a bit of pull has gotten support from our friends in Langley. If you need help, you may call upon them.”
Racine took the paper, knowing this was strange. Implicit in Nero’s comment was that he couldn’t call the Cellar for back-up. That wasn’t totally bad, considering the Agency had a lot of resources, but the quality of those resources was a different story. Racine had to assume this was his punishment for Baltimore.
“You are dismissed.
Racine left. As soon as the door closed behind him, a panel on the wall behind Nero opened and Bailey walked in, jaws working as he chewed his ever-present gum.
"Baltimore?" Bailey asked, taking the seat Racine had occupied.
"Racine did a free-lance job. Made a bloody mess of it. Killed a couple of non-players. A woman and her husband."
“For who?” Bailey asked.
“For Senator Collins.”
Bailey frowned.
Nero nodded as if he saw the frown. “Yes. Raises all sorts of questions, doesn’t it?”
“Wheels turning within wheels,” Bailey said.
Nero grunted. “Aren’t there always?”
“Why the kill?”
“The good Senator was having an affair with the woman. Her husband had learned of it and was threatening divorce. It would have gotten ugly. The good Senator is in a precarious position as he tries to move upward in the world.”
“The woman — Neeley. What do you think she will do?”
“Most likely go to Masterson,” Nero said. “That’s what Gant would have told her to do.”
“You mentioned a third piece?” Bailey asked. “A third person?”
Nero nodded. “I’m not sure everything was as we thought it was so long ago. I was fishing with Racine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been rearranging the facts. They’re vague and distant sometimes, but they are there. Sudan. Mogadishu. The Embassy bombings. 9-11. Afghanistan. Action — reaction. Short-sightedness. Even before then. We never quite tied up the loose ends on Pan Am 107.”
Bailey’s eyebrows lifted at Nero’s tone. He’d never heard the old man so angry.
Nero could tell from the heavy silence that Bailey didn’t quite believe he was telling him everything, but implicit in their relationship from the beginning had been that Nero was the one who controlled all the pieces, and knowledge of both the players and the moves were only given when needed.
"Why did you put Racine on this?" Bailey finally asked.
"Because Senator Collins wants the issue resolved but I have yet to decide exactly how that resolution will develop and I want to keep my options open. Since Senator Collins was involved on the front end and appears to be involved in something presently with Racine, we might as well involve Racine in this. I think I need to take a harder look at Mister Racine and the past. You never know what might come out of the forest if a fire burns through it."
CHAPTER 9
Neeley made her way through the darkened woods, another night creature foraging in the dark. It had been a frustrating day. John Masterson had vanished and left no trail that she could find.
Her investigation had yielded no connection yet between John and Gant. John Masterson had been here in St. Louis for almost ten years working for the same oil technology company. He worked on some classified projects connected with the Pentagon but Neeley didn’t think that had anything to do with the current situation. Before coming to St. Louis his past was hidden and Neeley had to assume it was behind that distant curtain she couldn’t penetrate that Gant and John had known each other.
It took Neeley a few minutes to find the right tree behind Hannah's house. She climbed and opened the box by feel. She pulled out the four micro cassettes on the revolving cartridge and replaced them with blank ones. She slipped the tapes into her coat pocket
Neeley wanted to get back to the hotel and listen to the tapes, but first she took the time to move to the tree line and pull out the field glasses, searching the windows for Hannah. She was seated in the den, wearing a robe and drinking. Reading.
Neeley still didn't know how she would get to John but she hoped the tapes would give her the hook. She had a feeling she wouldn't have much more time. The Cellar would move as soon as they knew Gant was dead, of that Gant had been certain.
It was a long shot, but who knew? Maybe John had been foolish enough to call his wife and the tapes had caught it.
As Neeley watched Hannah guzzle down her drink and pour herself another, she felt an odd sense of urgency press on her. Her normally cool mission mode gave way to a feeling of utter loneliness. Gant was gone. Hannah was just sitting and staring, lost in her aloneness and vulnerability. Neeley saw herself. This whole thing was bringing back specters she didn't want to deal with. Neeley tried to shake the feeling off and stood. She turned and headed back.
The gloomy forest pressed in on Neeley's already dark mood as she negotiated her way. Neeley's walk through the woods shifted into a jog and then into an all out run.
Branches slapped at her face, but she didn't even feel them. At one point, Neeley tripped over a fallen tree and landed face first. She was on her feet in a flash and continued. Neeley kept it up until she reached the back of the stores where her truck was parked. She broke out of the woods and finally halted, breathing hard, her clothes covered with dirt and leaves.
With tremendous effort, Neeley reined in the panicky feeling that had overwhelmed her. She was momentarily confused. What the hell had happened? She wasn't sure if it was simply reacting to stress of the last several months watching Gant die, or if it was Hannah and the current situation.
That last idea gave Neeley pause. Why was she so concerned about a woman stupid enough to tie herself to a man like John Masterson who would keep her in the dark and leave her hanging? A man who would do such a thing — Neeley shook her head. She couldn't judge Hannah. Not given her own history.
Neeley forced herself to walk calmly to the truck. She started it and drove back to her hotel. She negotiated the roads with her characteristic safety, but her mind was swirling with thoughts that she had kept at bay for years.