Jake looked down at his lap and touched his forehead with his middle finger, unconsciously rubbing. In any hunt, any interrogation, there were key moments, when somebody said something that might seem obscure, that looked like a minor point but was, in fact, critical.
Madison misinterpreted his reaction: “What? You don’t believe me?”
“No, no,” Jake said, looking up again. “It’s the single piece of information I’ve gotten so far that makes me think you’re right. That he didn’t go away voluntarily.”
For the first time, her attitude softened. “I’ve been trying to tell everybody that. He’d never abandon the cats.”
He watched her for a few seconds, then said, “You say he spent most of his time in New York. Did you spend that time with him?”
“No, I . . .” She stopped, looked at Black, and then said, “We’re not exactly estranged. We’re friendly. But we don’t live together much anymore. He spends most of his time in New York, I spend most of mine at our farm. We mostly intersect here, in Washington . . . when we do.”
Jake took that as a complex of evasions suggesting that they no longer were in bed together.
“Do you think . . . if you’re only friendly, that he might have another friend? Somebody that he might have gone off with for a while?”
She was exasperated: “No, I do not. Frankly, if he was going to do that, he would have told me. And he would have fed the cats.”
Okay. Enough of that.
Jake looked at Black, then Madison: “There’s a concept, in the bureaucracy, called The Rule. Have you heard of it?”
Madison shook her head, but Black nodded. “From Winter’s Guide: You ask, Who benefits?”
Jake said, “Exactly—though I didn’t think of it. I just picked it up.” He held Madison’s eyes: “In any analysis of a confusing political problem, the rule is to ask, ‘Who benefits?’ You will find the answer to any political or bureaucratic question, if you can answer that one correctly. Now, Senator Bowe vanishes under suspicious circumstances, and you ask, ‘Who benefits?’ ”
“So?” she asked.
Jake shook his head: “It sure as hell isn’t this administration. The biggest beneficiaries so far have been your husband’s political allies. The biggest loser so far has been Arlo Goodman.”
“But . . .”
“I know what you think about Governor Goodman, that you dislike him.”
“He’s an asshole,” she said.
“So you see my problem. Your husband disappears, and almost nobody is hurt except Arlo Goodman. And, by extension, other Democrats. The election is in seven months . . .”
Madison looked at Black, and then back at Jake, anger again surfacing as a red flow up her neck and into her cheeks: “All right, let’s work through it again—because you’re wrong about who benefits. It’s not just a few Republicans against Arlo Goodman—a lot of people are scared of him. The Watchmen are like the Klan, or the Mafia, or the Gestapo. They take their orders from Goodman. If Lincoln’s never found, and nobody is ever caught, people become even more afraid of the Watchmen. That’s what they want. They want the fear. They want control. Who benefits if we don’t find Lincoln? The Watchmen do.”
“That’s a little overblown,” Jake said. “They’re a bunch of guys in leather jackets. Boy Scouts who got old.”
Her voice rose, never became shrill, but he could feel the anger in it: “That’s how they started. Most of them are still that way. Old Boy Scouts. But some of them . . . In Lexington, the Watchmen came to my house and tried to put me under house arrest. No warrant, no crime, just the Watchmen. Now they’re starting up in other states. You don’t know how dangerous Goodman is. He won’t stop with the governorship. That’s small potatoes. He’s aiming for the presidency.”
“I’m seeing the governor tomorrow,” Jake said. “I’ll talk to him about it.”
“For all the good that’ll do,” she snapped.
“Back to the point: we don’t benefit. I’m not sure I buy the analysis on the Watchmen, but I’ll keep it in mind. So: who else? Is there another party?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. If you start thinking it’s Arab terrorists or the Masons or the Vatican or a thousand-year-old conspiracy, you’ll probably kill him. The answer is closer than that.”
Jake nodded and picked up his case. “Okay. Make those phone calls, please. I’ll leave my private number for call-backs.”
“You’re going to find him.”
He nodded. “Yes. I will. He was last seen getting into a car with two or three other men. That was not an innocent ride, because not a single person has come forward to explain. So that, I think, must be the moment he disappeared, or began disappearing. And that means there’s a group of men who know where he is, what happened. I am going to hound everyone who can do anything to help us break that group. I will find him.”
“Be careful where you look. Especially in Virginia.”
“The Watchmen don’t frighten me,” Jake said.
“That bothers me,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because that might mean that you’re too stupid to find Lincoln.”
They stared at each other for a moment, poised over the coffee table, and then Jake cracked a smile: he really liked her. “Okay.”
When he left, she shook his hand. Her hands were harder and rougher than he’d expected, probably from riding, or working around the farm, he thought. He turned on the stoop and said, “I’ll talk to the governor about you—get you back to your farm, make sure you’re not harassed. If I need more information, can I come back?”
“Yes, you may, anytime,” she said. “If we don’t find Linc pretty soon, he’s gone. We’ll never find him.”
Black, standing behind her, said, “And hey, take it easy, huh? Listen to what Maddy’s saying about the Watchmen. From what I hear, you were always a little too quick to jump out of the airplane.”
When Jake was gone, Madison said to Johnson Black, “The Virginia state police and the FBI are looking for Linc. They’re not getting anywhere, so the president sends some bureaucrat to look for him? This is going to help? Am I going crazy?”
“He’s not exactly a bureaucrat,” Black said.
“That forensic bureaucracy thing was cute,” she said, as they idled back into the living room. “But what does it mean?”
“Jake fixes things,” Black said. “If there’s some really screwed-up problem, that nobody can fix, and that must be fixed, Jake fixes it. He makes lists of people who need to be fired, who need to be promoted. He has ears all over the bureaucracy . . . he scares the heck out of those people. And that’s what’s got to be done if you want to find Linc.”
“We need to scare bureaucrats?”
“That’s right. People are looking for him, they’re paying attention because of all the media coverage, but they’re not desperate to find him. Jake can make people desperate. He can make them feel that their careers are on the line if they don’t—and sometimes, they are.”
“Hmmp.” She settled back on the couch. “I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
“He used to be married to Nikki Lange, you know.”
Her eyebrows went up: “You’re kidding me. He’s the guy?”
“He’s the guy. Couldn’t last, of course. Nikki’s too deeply involved with herself.”