She said nothing.
“Do you think Kevin won’t harm you because he loves you?”
“I think that, yes.”
“Men like this, when they’re caught after harming a woman, nearly always give love as their motive. They seem to think that love is an exculpatory emotion for a serious felony, even for murder.”
“He’s completed an anger management course since I last saw him,” she said. “The judge made him. Maybe it took.”
“And you think he traveled all the way from Wichita to New York to tell you he’s not angry anymore?”
“He’s not going to tell me anything — I’m not going to see him.”
“He’s not going to give you a choice,” Stone said. “Tell me, does he have any money?”
“A tiny pension from the airline. He picks up an occasional charter flight.”
“So he’s just bought himself a week at an expensive hotel, when, more than likely, he can’t even afford the garage for his rented car. He’s probably maxed out his credit cards getting here, and I’m willing to bet he bought a one-way ticket.”
“He can’t carry a gun on an airplane,” she said.
“Yes he can, if he registers it and keeps it in his checked luggage. Or maybe he got a deadhead charter job to Teterboro. Nobody searches luggage at a general aviation airport.”
“You’re scaring me,” she said.
“Good, I’ve been trying hard to do just that. If I’m right, then he’s a man with nothing more to lose. And that makes him dangerous.”
“All right,” she said resignedly. “What do you want me to do?”
“Move in with me for a few days. I’ll have Fred, who has a carry license, take you home in the morning so you can pack a couple of bags.”
“I’ve got a new business to run,” she said.
“Have the phone company refer your calls here. We’ll dedicate a line to Pat Frank’s Flight Department. There’s even an office downstairs you can use.”
“All right, I surrender. I’ll take this seriously.”
“Hearing that is a great relief,” Stone said.
17
Holly filed into the Cabinet room for her second president’s intelligence briefing. Kate Lee joined them. “Do we have anything on yesterday’s item about a terrorist infiltration?”
Lance Cabot stood. “Yes, Madam President. As you recall, we sent out requests to locate the top twenty Al Qaeda subjects. We have reports back that place seventeen of them in various broadly defined areas — south Yemen, eastern Afghanistan, northern Pakistan, and the like.”
“And the other three?”
Lance wielded a remote control and three photographs appeared on a large screen. “We apologize for the quality of these pictures, but they’re the best we have.” The names appeared under the photographs. “All of these men are active in contriving plots against us around the world. All three speak fluent English — two of them from having attended Eton College, in England, one having attended the University of California at Berkeley. As you can see, they all have full beards and are wearing the native dress of Mideast regions, so a clean shave and a change of clothing would make them substantially unidentifiable at points of entry into the United States.”
“Won’t the latest facial recognition program work?” Kate asked.
“Our software requires a distinct photograph for comparison, and as you can see, these photos are too indistinct to be useful.”
“What about photographs from their time in English and American schools?”
“We have been unable to locate any photographs of them from that or any other period,” Lance replied.
“But you believe that one of these men is our infiltrator?”
“All three certainly qualify for that distinction. Of course, that does not exclude many other male Middle Easterners, but their placement in the Al Qaeda hierarchy, their language skills, their past behavior, and the lack of any distinct photographs of them make them our three most likely suspects. Of course, all the agencies are combing their records for any other helpful information, but this is what we have now.”
“I want this to be the first matter presented at all future intelligence briefings until we have resolution,” Kate said.
As the meeting broke up, Holly fell into step with Lance. “Will you e-mail me those three photographs and the files on these men?” she asked.
“Of course. You’ll have them by lunchtime. How are you enjoying the West Wing, Holly?”
“It’s too soon to tell,” Holly replied. She waved goodbye and left him to return to her office.
Later that morning the photos and files arrived on her computer. She called in Millie. “I have an assignment for you,” she said.
Millie turned over a leaf of her steno pad and waited to be told. Holly called up the three photographs. “One of these men may have entered the United States with the intention of carrying out a terrorist plot, probably in Washington.”
“Very bad photographs,” Millie replied.
“They’re the only ones available.” She brought Millie up to date on what they knew. “I want you to make it your first priority to track the investigation of these three until we have evidence that will help us locate them. We will be getting daily updates from all the intelligence agencies that should add to our knowledge. I can’t devote myself to this full-time, that’s why I’m devoting you to it. Their files are attached to their photographs. Get to know them as you would a new boyfriend that you suspect of being a complete shit, and keep me posted as often as you get usable intelligence.” Holly typed a few keystrokes. “Everything is now on your computer.”
“How long ago were these men at their respective schools?” Millie asked.
“I don’t know — you find out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Millie replied, and left the room.
18
Fred flicker tucked Pat Frank into the rear seat of the Bentley and used his remote control to open the garage door. “How are you today, Ms. Frank?” he asked.
“Very well, thank you, Fred.”
“I understand you’ve had a bit of bovver wif a gentleman,” Fred said, lapsing into his native Cockney for a moment.
“Well, your boss seems to think so. Nothing’s happened yet.”
“I understand,” Fred said. “Prevention is the best cure.”
“He believes that to be so.”
“Could you describe the gentleman for me?”
“Six-one, two-twenty, heavily muscled, thick, dark hair going gray.”
“May I ask, how did the gentleman come to be heavily muscled?”
“He was always a gym rat,” she replied, “but a couple of years ago he really got into the bodybuilding thing.”
“I see. Tell me, do you think he might have been using steroids?”
“It crossed my mind,” she said. “It all seemed to happen pretty fast. He spent an inordinate amount of time at the gym.”
“Does he use drugs?” Fred asked.
“He has, from time to time. I insisted that he stop it, if he wanted to be with me.”
“Did he use cocaine?”
“That was his drug of choice.”
“Oh, dear,” Fred muttered to himself.
“How’s that?”
“Sorry, just thinking aloud.” He stopped the car. “Please wait until I’ve had a look around before you get out,” he said. He opened the car door, stood on the sill, to make up for his short stature, and had a look down the block and at the cars parked nearby, then he opened the rear door. “Let’s get you inside,” he said.
Fred followed her to the door and waited until she had unlocked it. “Mr. Barrington has asked me to deliver security alert letters to your tenants, so with your permission, I’ll find meself a parking spot, then I’ll slip them under their doors and come back here,” he said. “Please lock yourself in.” He gave her a card with his cell phone number. “Ring, if you need me for anything at all. I’ll come back in an hour or so and help you with your luggage.”