“Good idea,” she said, just ahead of a smile that was the first one he could recall seeing.
“Anything interesting in the bag?” Rodgers asked.
“A present and my Nikes,” Kat said. “Heels get tiring.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “You want to change? I won’t say anything.”
“Not appropriate in here. When I leave.”
“So tell me. How did you come to work with the senator?” Rodgers asked.
“Well, as you probably gathered from Lucy, I used to be one of them,” she said. “I graduated from Columbia and was hired by the Wall Street Journal as a reporter for the Washington Bureau.”
“Were your folks reporters or politicians?”
“They were New York City cops. Both of them. So was my older brother. The Lockley family defined the word tough.”
“Was there any pressure for you to go into law enforcement?”
“Not directly.” She laughed. “Unless you consider taking martial arts and gun safety classes instead of ballet and playing with dolls to be pressure. I didn’t mind, though. We did it as a family.”
“Sounds pretty well-adjusted,” Rodgers said.
“It was.”
“Then where did journalism come from?”
“Our other family activity was watching the news on TV,” Kat said. “The local news always had a lot of police stories, and I loved watching the reporters. They got to hang with police officers and firefighters and soldiers, so I started doing my own newscasts with our video camera and interviewing my folks and their friends. I loved it, and it stuck.”
The waiter came over, and they took a moment to look at the menu. They decided to order several appetizers and share.
“So,” Rodgers went on. “Did you go directly from the Journal to becoming the senator’s press secretary?”
“Pretty much,” she said. “I made some stabs at getting into TV, but you need connections, fangs, or both. All I had was an interest in reporting news. Dad and the senator were old buds. When I was assigned to cover Don Orr’s last campaign, he offered me a job. He said it wasn’t nepotism. He told me I had ‘the goods.’ ”
“You do,” Rodgers said.
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I figured if nothing else, I’d pick up TV connections for the future.”
“Smart. Looks like you anticipated everything.”
“Not quite,” she said. “In a high-profile position like this one, you have to watch everything you say and everything your boss says.” She gestured toward the bar. “As you saw back there, self-censorship is a constant process, and you suffer a complete loss of privacy. I did not appreciate the degree to which that would happen.”
“Maybe you need to come up with an alter ego,” Rodgers suggested. “Get a wig, a pair of sunglasses, black lipstick.”
“I have all of those.” She laughed. “It’s my Goth side.”
“Pardon?”
“Goth. Gothic. You know — vampires, black lace and leather, sharpening your teeth with a file and dying your skin white.”
“People do that?” Rodgers asked.
Kat nodded. “It’s a large and growing subculture.”
“I had no idea.”
The age difference of some twenty years suddenly became very apparent to Rodgers. He still thought the rock group KISS was over the top. At the same time, Rodgers’s respect for Senator Orr grew. The Texan was even older, yet he had dared to hire a twenty-something who brought different ideas to the staff. Though it was alarming to think of vampires as a potential voting bloc.
“It’s funny,” Kat said as the food arrived. “I’m the journalist, yet you’re the one asking the questions.”
“I don’t have access to a dossier of your entire life,” Rodgers pointed out.
“Touché,” she said, smiling again.
The two talked a little about Rodgers and then about the problems of mounting a national campaign. It was an open, intelligent talk. Rodgers did not know if it had been part of Orr’s plan, but by the time they were finished, the general had decided to accept the employment offer.
While they were having coffee, Lucy O’Connor returned. She was making notes in a PalmPilot as she weaved through the crowded restaurant and made her way directly to the table. Upon arriving, she fixed her eager eyes on Kat.
“There’s been another killing,” she said breathlessly.
“Who?” Kat asked. She seemed unusually alarmed. Or maybe she was tired of talking to reporters.
“A big shot Southern realtor named Robert Lawless,” Lucy said, reading from the PalmPilot. “A woman went to his hotel room — at the Monarch, this time — and left a few minutes later. Sometime between, she apparently poked him under the tongue with a hypodermic. The only difference between the Wilson and Lawless incidents is that this killer went up with him.”
“Did the security cameras get anything?” Rodgers asked.
“Same as yesterday,” Lucy replied. “A woman whose features were hidden, this time by a scarf and sunglasses.”
“How did you hear about it?” Kat asked.
“Someone in hotel security saw the woman in the elevator, thought she looked suspicious, and decided to check on Mr. Lawless. I was in the bar, networking, heard the fuss.”
“But they didn’t hold the woman,” Kat said.
“They were a few steps too late,” Lucy said. “She got off on the mezzanine, not in the lobby, and walked out a side door. The good news, I guess, is that it seems to take your soiree out of the spotlight. Lawless wasn’t on the invite list.”
Kat looked at her watch, then excused herself. She said she was going outside to call the senator. This was something he should know before he taped the show. “I owe you,” she said to Lucy as she left.
“I’ll want a comment from the senator,” Lucy said.
Kat nodded as she walked away. The reporter smiled and took the seat across from General Rodgers. The thirty-something woman had short blond hair, pale skin, thin red lips, and a hungry look.
There were all kinds of vampires in Washington.
“Lucky you were there,” Rodgers said.
“My middle name is Kay,” the reporter said. “My folks gave it to me so I could add it to Lucy whenever I wanted.”
“Cute,” Rodgers said.
“So, General,” Lucy said. “What about these rumors that Op-Center is being phased out?”
“Intelligence fund reapportionments are cyclical,” Rodgers said. “Op-Center got a boost five years ago, now they’re being cut back. They’re still beefier than they were when they started.”
That was longer than “nope.” Mike Rodgers was proud of himself — but only for a moment.
“They?” Lucy said.
That was a slip. Rodgers should have been more careful.
“General, are you going to work for Senator Orr and the USF?” Lucy asked. “Is that why you were at the party last night?”
“Nope,” he said.
“Nope?” Lucy said, her mouth twisting.
“Nope.” Words were a reporter’s oxygen supply. Cut it off, and they died.
“Sir, I am on your side, their side. I can help. The more leads I get, the more credibility I have, the more favorable press the senator gets. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
“Yep,” he said.
She frowned. She reached into the PalmPilot carrying case and handed him a business card. “When you feel like talking, call me first.”
He tucked the card in his shirt pocket. He said nothing, though he did smile politely.
Kat returned then and said that the news had reached the senator right after he left.