"Tell me you're on top of this situation," I said. "That you're doing your best to locate her."
"We're on top of the situation, and we're doing our best to locate Drama." Gracey's smile dropped away and the expression he was offering now was veering dangerously close to sympathy. "You do what you do for Ainsley-Hunter, and you let us know if you hear from our lady friend or anything like that, all right?"
"That's it?"
"We're finished, at least for now. Nothing more we can tell you, and apparently you've got nothing you can tell us. If Drama appears on your radar, tell Special Agent Fowler – he'll let us know. Otherwise just keep your head down and your back to a wall."
Gracey got to his feet. Bowles hesitated a moment longer, then reached across the table, offering me his hand. I looked at it, then at him, wondering if he thought this had really been worth a handshake.
After another second, Bowles refracted his hand, gathered his things, and followed Gracey out the door. Before he stepped out he looked back to where I was still seated.
"Sorry," he said.
It sounded to me like an honest condolence for my failings.
Chapter 7
Natalie was in her office, flipping through the stack of location photographs we'd taken over the last few weeks, checking them against our maps. I entered without knocking.
"Call Dale and Corry, get them here now," I told her.
My look as much as my tone kept her from asking the obvious question, and I went back to my office without another word, making straight for my phone. I tried calling Moore at home and got his machine, left a message for him to contact me. Then I tried his cell phone and got his voice mail, so I left the same message again. I was hanging up as Natalie came in.
"What happened?"
"I'd rather wait until everyone's here."
"Is this about Lady Ainsley-Hunter?"
"Wait until they're here, Nat."
She looked around the office, then said, "I'll order dinner."
"That'd be good."
"By the way, Bridgett called."
"What'd she say?"
"I'll wait until they're here, I think."
We glared at each other, and I realized I was being a prick. I also realized that my stomachache had sent colonists up to my head to see if they could get some action of their own started.
"As of eight minutes past midnight this morning, central standard time, Drama was in Dallas, Texas," I said. "She killed three men at a storage facility, and in all likelihood armed herself with the weapons they kept there."
Natalie lost her voice for a second, her mouth opening slightly but no sound following.
I knew what she was trying to ask. I said, "I saw the photographs. There's no confirmation that she's coming here."
"But she could be."
"It's possible. I think it's unlikely."
She kept staring at me. After a second I saw that her look wasn't actually fixed on me, but had slipped to a side, and was focused past my shoulder.
"What?" I asked.
"The blinds are open."
I turned around and looked out the window behind my desk, realized just how exposed my back had been to the world. From my view, there were easily dozens of perches where a sniper could roost and take a shot into the office. I felt the edges of panic returning, the same feeling that had clung to me in the first days after Drama had vanished. The urge to hide under my desk was suddenly powerful.
"She's not after us," I told Natalie.
"There's this book, you may have heard of it. It's on display in store windows and people are talking about it on the radio and it's all about this professional assassin and these protection specialists who stopped her from killing a man."
"It doesn't make sense that she would be after us."
"Shut the blinds, Atticus."
"She's being sloppy, she let herself be photographed in Dallas, and she's better than that. She knew the camera was there, she had to have known."
"Everything she does, she does for a reason, and she's got a reason to come after us now. We have to call Havel."
"Why would Drama let us know she was on the move? She had to have known we'd find out. She can't be after us or Chris. She can't be after our principal."
"She loves games, Atticus." I heard Natalie shift on the carpet, and her voice stayed soft, but her words started accelerating. "Shut the blinds. My paranoia, I know that. Yours is cars, mine is snipers, and I'm asking you please, Atticus, shut the goddamn blinds now."
I stared out the window, using one hand to shield my eyes from the sunset. Nothing that looked like someone who wanted to kill me leaped out from in or on the surrounding buildings. Below, the Holland Tunnel traffic was writhing its way to and from Jersey.
"For God's sake…"
I closed the blinds and turned back. Setting sunlight ran through the slats that covered the window, cutting the shadows in the room with narrow strips of orange and gold. Natalie had moved out of the doorway, and her expression surprised me. I'd known her a long time, and I'd seen most of her emotions – the ones she was willing to wear on her face, at least – and I had seen her nervous, I'd seen her worried, I'd even seen her afraid. But I'd never seen her terrified.
"It's all right, Nat."
"No, it isn't. We can't do it again."
"She's had a year. Why now? If it's the book, then why now, when she can't do anything to stop it?"
"We should have canceled. We have to call Moore."
"I tried reaching him, I left messages. We'll be fine."
She regarded me with the fondness one normally reserves for an exceptionally naive child. "You're crazy, Kodiak."
"Yeah, but it's that good, devil-may-care, rides-his-motorcycle-in-the-rain crazy," I said. "This is no different than what we were dealing with earlier today, it's the same situation as with Keith. It's circumstantial evidence, nothing more, and it can't keep us from doing our job."
She shook her head. "You can't compare the two, it's not the same at all, Atticus. Keith is apotential stalker. And we don't even know if he's prone to violence. But a professional killer – we know what she's capable of, we've seen her work."
"An assassin is just a stalker who is better at his job, Nat. And at least with Keith there's evidence proving an obsession with Lady Ainsley-Hunter, if not an intent to do violence. With Drama we don't even have that. I don't believe that Drama is after us, and I don't believe that Drama is after Lady Ainsley-Hunter."
Her jaw flexed. "Then why did the CIA feel it necessary to inform you she was in the country?"
It was a question I'd already asked myself, and since I didn't know the answer, I brushed past it, saying, "It doesn't matter. We muddle through, we stick with what we're good at, we protect our principal. If worse comes to worst, we'll shoot a lot of people."
"Or get shot a lot ourselves." She closed her eyes, willing herself to relax, and when she opened them again the last hints of her fear had vanished. "You are crazy, you realize that, don't you?"
"I have never argued that point," I replied. "What did Bridgett say when she called?"
"She's on her way to Philadelphia to interview Keith's brother. She said she'd call later if she found out anything of use."
"Okay, good. See? We're on top of this."
"Oh, yeah, we're all over it." She moved back to the door, then stopped. "Sorry about that."
"Ain't no thing. She scares the crap out of me, too."
She frowned and went into her office. I headed for the conference room. It was dark in there, and I closed the blinds before switching on the lights.
Dale and Corry arrived at six-twenty, apologizing.
"Weekend traffic," Dale told me. "You'd swear they put these drivers on the road just to annoy me."
"Or worse," Corry said. "I thought he was going to run one guy off the road."
"I could have done it, too." Dale puffed out his chest boastfully. "I know how."