So he calmly walked down to the hotel lobby and made certain he was noticed at the concierge desk and also by the couple of doormen out front. It helped that he was tall, blond, bearded, and wore a long cashmere coat. All according to the plan he'd been given.
Then he took a leisurely stroll along M Street, checking out restaurant menus in the windows and the latest fashions of Georgetown.
He found it somewhat comical that he could actually see police cruisers and the FBI as they sped toward the Four Seasons from several directions.
Finally the man stepped into a white Chevy van that was waiting for him at the corner of M and Thomas Jefferson.
The van sped away in the direction of the airport. In addition to the driver, there was a second man. He sat in back beside the one who'd made the phone calls from the Four Seasons.
"It went well?" the driver asked once they were a few miles from M Street and the commotion going on there.
The bearded man shrugged. "Of course it did. They have an accurate description. Something to go on, a little hope, whatever they want to call it. It went perfectly. I did what was asked of me."
"Excellent," said the second man. He then pulled out a Beretta and shot the blond man in the right temple. He was brain-dead before he even heard the explosion.
Now the police and FBI had a physical description of the Wolf-but no one alive matched it.
Chapter 37
There was more intrigue, or at least confusion, that afternoon. According to our telecommunications people, the Wolf had called us from the Four Seasons Hotel in D.C., and he had been spotted there. The description we had of him was already being sent around the world. It was possible that he'd slipped up, but I didn't know if I could believe it. He'd always called on cell phones before, but this time he used a hotel phone. Why?
I got a surprise when I arrived home a little before 9:30 that night. Dr. Kayla Coles was in the living room with Nana. The two of them were huddled together on the sofa, conspiring about God only knew what. I was a little concerned that Nana's doctor was there so late in the evening.
"Everything okay?" I asked. "What's going on?"
"Kayla was in the neighborhood. She just stopped by," Nana answered. "Isn't that right, Dr. Coles? No problems that I know of. Except you missed supper."
"Well, actually," Kayla spoke up, "Nana was feeling a little faint again. So I stopped by as a precaution."
"Now, Kayla, don't exaggerate, please. Let's not get carried away," Nana scolded in her usual way. "I'm just fine. Fainting's just a part of my life now."
Kayla nodded and smiled pleasantly. Then she sighed out loud and leaned back on the couch. "I'm sorry. You tell it, Nana."
"I felt a little faint a few days last week. As you know, Alex. No big thing. If we still had Alex Junior around to take care of, then maybe I would be more concerned."
"Well, I'm concerned," I said.
Kayla smiled and shook her head. "Right. Like Nana said, I was in the neighborhood and I just stopped by, Alex. Strictly social. I did take her blood pressure. Everything seems to be in working order. I would like her to go for a few blood tests."
"Fine, I'll go for tests," said Nana. "Let's talk about the weather now."
I shook my head. At both of them. " You still working too hard?" I asked Kayla.
"Look who's talking," she said, then smiled brightly. Kayla had tremendous spirit and could always light up a room. "Unfortunately, there's too much work to do around here. Don't get me started about the number of people in the capital of this wealthy nation of ours who can't begin to afford to see a good doctor, or wait for hours and hours at St. Anthony's and several other hospitals I could name around this town."
I had always liked Kayla, and maybe, to be honest, I was even a little intimidated by her. Why is that? I wondered as we talked. I noticed that she'd lost some weight, what with all her running around and do-gooding in the neighborhood and elsewhere. The truth was, she looked better than ever. I almost felt embarrassed to have noticed.
"What are you standing there gawking at?" Nana asked. "Sit down and join us."
"I have to go," Kayla said, and stood up from the couch. "It is late, even for me."
"Don't let me break up the party," I protested. Suddenly I didn't want Kayla to leave. I wanted to talk about something other than the Wolf and the terror attacks that had been threatened.
"You're not breaking up the party, Alex. Wouldn't happen. But I still have two more house calls to make."
I looked at my watch. "Two more calls at this hour? You're something else. Wow. You're crazy, you know that?" I grinned.
"Maybe I am," Kayla said, and shrugged. "Probably true." Then she kissed Nana with obvious affection. "You take care. Blood tests. Don't forget."
"My memory is fine."
When she was gone, Nana said to me, "Kayla Coles is something else, Alex. And you know what? I think that one reason she comes around here is to see you. That's my cockeyed theory, anyway, and I'm sticking with it."
The thought had occurred to me, too. "Then why does she leave so fast when I get here?"
Nana frowned and raised an eyebrow at me. "Maybe it's because you never ask her to stay. Maybe it's because you gawk at her when she's here. Why is that? You know, she just could be the one for you. Don't argue with me. She scares you, and that might be a good thing."
I thought about it, and I didn't have a response. It had been a long day and my brain wasn't firing on all cylinders. "So you're okay?" I asked Nana. "You're sure you're feeling all right?"
"Alex, I'm eighty-three years old. More or less. How okay can I be?" she asked. Then Nana kissed me on the cheek and headed off to bed.
"You're not getting any younger yourself," she turned and chirped over her shoulder.
Good one, Nana.
Chapter 38
Not everyone was headed off to bed yet that night. The night was still young in some quarters.
The Weasel had never been any good at controlling his so-called baser desires and physical needs. This fact scared him sometimes, because it was an obvious weakness and vulnerability, but it also turned him on. The danger, the adrenaline rush. Actually, it made him feel more alive than anything else in his life. When he went for the kill, he felt so good, so powerful, that it took over everything and he lost himself completely in the moment.
Shafer knew Washington, D.C., very well from his earlier posting at the British embassy, and he knew the poorer sections, because it was where he had hunted most often in the past.
The Weasel was hunting tonight. And he was feeling alive again, that his life had a purpose.
He drove a black Mercury Cougar along South Capitol. A cool drizzle was falling, and there were only a couple of skanks walking the streets. But one of the girls had already caught his eye.
He cruised around the block a couple of times, checking her out in the most obvious ways, playing at being a john.
He finally slowed the Cougar beside a petite black girl showing off her wares near the hot Nation nightclub. She wore a silver bustier, matching short skirt, and platform heels.
The very best part: he had been instructed to go hunting in Washington tonight. He was following orders from the Wolf. Just doing his job.
The young black girl thrust her chest forward provocatively as he leaned across the front seat to talk to her. She probably thought that her pert young nipples put her in control of the situation. This encounter will be interesting, he was thinking. Shafer had on a wig, and he had colored his face and hands black. A dumb old rock tune was playing inside his head: "The name of the song is I like it like that."