I was about to protest that I hadn’t actually done anything wrong this time, but the look in his eyes warned me to keep quiet.
“Hypothetically,” he said, “special agents who have done field work…”
“Like Minkus?”
He held a finger to my lips. Despite my resolve to distance myself, I felt a familiar tingle at his touch.
“Special agents who have done field work,” he repeated, “may, and I repeat-may-have acquired the necessary means to… dispatch… hostile individuals who intend to harm the agents.”
“Dispatch meaning… kill?”
He nodded.
I thought about that. At dinner on Sunday Minkus and Cooper were the only two present who had ever done field work. “Okay.”
“Tetrodotoxin,” he continued, assuming a bit of a teacher-tone, “which can be extracted not only from the puffer fish, but from the blue-ringed octopus, and several other species as well, is very effective in killing humans.” He raised his eyebrows. “Because tetrodotoxin is an unusual substance, a medical examiner would not know to test for it. At least not initially.”
“I’m with you,” I said.
His eyes registered sadness. I wished I’d chosen different words.
“It is not unreasonable to assume that a field agent could have such a substance in his or her possession.”
“So you think Cooper did it? You think Cooper spiked Minkus’s dinner?”
Tom’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer, but I could tell that wasn’t the conclusion he wanted me to draw.
“If we take our hypothetical agent as an example…” he said.
Okay, he meant Minkus.
“… and that agent believed he was being targeted…”
“For what?”
“That is classified.”
I nodded. “Go ahead.”
“If the hypothetical agent was under pressure from outside forces…” Tom gave me the evil eye. “Strong forces, say from hostile foreign governments…”
I nodded again.
“… we think it is likely that such an agent might have been prepared to protect himself.”
“Then how did he end up dead?”
He shrugged. “That’s the million-dollar question.”
“Could he have committed suicide?”
“That is one of several scenarios we are looking into.”
I held Tom’s gaze for an extended moment. “That’s a nice, tidy answer,” I said. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”
He licked his lips and shrugged. “All I can tell you is that agents all over the world-some from other countries-have the same means of killing at their disposal. It’s also possible that our hypothetical agent was assassinated by another country’s operative.”
“ China, most likely,” I said. “Right?”
Tom leaned back, and it was then I noticed how close he had been. “That’s as much as I can say.”
“I take it from your reaction over the phone that this revelation about tetrodotoxin won’t make the evening news.”
He shook his head. “We can’t let that out. Not yet. No one knows except for the president, a couple of trusted advisors…”
I thought about Cooper and Kap. Were they the trusted advisors Tom referred to?
“… and those of us on the PPD. I gotta tell you, Ollie: I never expected the chef to be party to this information.”
“I overhear a lot.”
“Sure,” he said, clearly not believing me. “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay? We’re not even telling the Minkus family, yet. Until we know for certain whether he was targeted-or whether he took his own life-we can’t let even a hint of this get out.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
One thing still bothered me. “What makes the medical examiner so sure this toxin didn’t come from the kitchen?”
Tom shifted in his seat. “Hypothetically, again?”
Could he use that word any more times tonight? “Of course.”
“Toxic substances are tightly controlled by the government-as you might expect.” He squinted into the night. “But occasionally the government experiences a breach. And sometimes a breach isn’t discovered until an inventory is taken.”
“The NSA is missing a supply of tetrodotoxin?”
Tom’s jaw worked. “It may have simply been misplaced.”
It all made sense now. “That’s why the ME knew to test for it.”
He didn’t answer that. He didn’t have to. “Whether an individual acquired it from the government supply, or whether this is a mere clerical error, there are serious issues at stake. And a lack of competence we find unacceptable.” He looked at me. “There are already measures in place to discover what happened and to prevent any such mix-up from happening again.”
“Wow.” There really wasn’t much else to say. “This is real, isn’t it?”
He looked at me.
“I mean, we hear about espionage… but there are real people who use toxins against one another. On purpose.” I shuddered. “I don’t like it.”
“Necessary evils.”
“Maybe,” I said.
Again we were silent for a long moment. I broke the silence. “What are you doing for Easter tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “Family stuff.”
“I’m cooking at my place,” I said, by way of conciliation. “At four. In case you’re interested.”
His eyes were unreadable. “I…” His voice made a tiny little catch. “Ollie. I think maybe we need this break.”
I felt my heart wrench.
He looked into my eyes. “Can I ask you something?’
I swallowed hard and nodded.
Tom inhaled audibly. “Last night you said that you can’t be yourself with me. Do you really believe that?”
My mouth went dry. I wanted to avoid answering, but he stared at me with an intensity that would brook no lie. “I do, actually.”
The expression on his face looked like somebody had punched him in the gut, but he nodded and glanced at his watch. “The Metro probably isn’t running anymore. I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks.”
We made small talk as we drove, and I waited until he pulled up to my building to say, “I’m sorry.”
He sat in the darkness for about ten seconds, staring straight ahead until he finally shook his head, and said, “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.”
CHAPTER 23
THE FIRST FAMILY HAD ATTENDED SERVICES the night before, and had no other official plans beyond entertaining their family for dinner at noon. An easy day, as far as we were concerned, and we planned to start preparations for the Easter meal just as soon as the morning rush was over. Cyan and I finished garnishing the breakfast plates just as Henry strode in. “Happy Easter,” I said.
Uncharacteristically grumpy, he pointed at me. “Do you know Howard Liss?”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“He accosted me on my way in to work.” Henry tied on an apron and consulted our schedule as he continued, working and talking at the same time. “The man is stalking the White House. When he saw me, he wanted to know why I had been brought back here to work.”
“That’s none of his business.”
Henry’s face flushed. “I wanted to tell him that, but you know reporters-they’ll make it sound like you’re hiding something. I just told him that I was happy to be able to help out as we prepared for Monday’s big event.”
I sensed there was more.
Henry’s eyebrows bunched together. “He asked about you. Specifically, he asked if you had any connection to Phil Cooper.”
“He did?”
Henry nodded. “Liss seems to believe that Cooper has a hidden agenda. He didn’t accuse the man of killing Minkus, but he came close enough for me to smell the suspicion on him. This Liss is a wild card.”
“You’re telling me. I don’t know where he gets his information.” I voiced a tidbit that had been bothering me. “Don’t you find it odd that he never publicized the fact that Bucky is suspended?”
Cyan shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t know. The newspapers didn’t even mention it. I think Paul kept that information in-house.”