“You’re letting her go to the Capitol?” said Mark in astonishment.
“Listen carefully, Mark. I’ll have a minute-by-minute briefing on where the two senators are from 9:00 A.M. on and six men are tailing both of them. At 9:15, we’re going into the streets ourselves. When it happens, we’re going to be there. If I’m going to carry the ultimate responsibility, I may as well carry it in person.”
“Yes, sir.”
The intercom buzzed.
“It’s Mr. Sommerton. He wants to see you urgently, sir.” The Director looked at his watch: 8:45. On the minute, as he promised.
Daniel Sommerton rushed in, looking rather pleased with himself. He came straight to the point. “One of the prints has come up on the criminal file, it’s a thumb, his name is Matson — Ralph Matson.”
Sommerton produced a photograph of Matson, an Identikit picture, and an enlarged thumbprint.
“And here’s the part you’re not going to like, sir. He’s an ex-FBI agent.” He passed Matson’s card over for the Director to study. Mark looked at the photo. It was the Greek Orthodox priest, big nose, heavy chin.
“Something professional about him,” said the Director and Mark simultaneously.
“Well done, Sommerton, make three hundred copies of the picture immediately and get them to the Assistant Director in charge of the Investigation Division — and that means immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” The fingerprint expert scurried away, pleased with himself. They wanted his thumb.
“Mrs. McGregor, get me Mr. Rogers.”
The Assistant Director was on the line; the Director briefed him.
“Shall I arrest him on sight?”
“No, Matt. Once you’ve spotted him, watch him and keep your boys well out of sight. He could still call everything off if he got suspicious. Keep me briefed all the time. Move in on him at 10:06. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Yes, sir. Have you briefed the Secret Service?”
“Yes, I have.” He slammed the phone down.
The Director looked at his watch: 9:05. He pressed a button and Elliott came in. “Where are the two senators?”
“Harrison’s still in his Alexandria town house, Dexter has left Kensington and is heading towards the Capitol, sir.”
“You stay here in this office, Elliott, and keep in radio contact with me and the Assistant Director on the street. Never leave this room. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be using my walkie-talkie on Channel Four. Let’s go, Andrews.” They left the anonymous man.
“If anybody calls me, Mrs. McGregor, put them through to Special Agent Elliott in my office. He will know where to contact me.”
“Yes, sir.”
A few moments later, the Director and Mark were on the street walking up Pennsylvania Avenue towards the Capitol. Mark put on his dark glasses and pulled his collar up. They passed several agents on the way. None of them acknowledged the Director. On the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and 9th Street, they passed the Chairman, who was lighting a cigarette and checking his watch: 9:30. He moved to the edge of the sidewalk, leaving a pile of cigarette butts behind him. The Director glanced at the cigarette butts: litter bug, ought to be fined a hundred dollars. They hurried on.
“Come in, Tony. Come in, Tony.”
“Tony, boss. The Buick’s ready. I’ve just heard it announced on the car radio that pretty boy Andrews bought it.”
The Chairman smiled.
“Come in, Xan.”
“Ready, await your signal.”
“Come in, Matson.”
“Everything’s set, boss. There’s a hell of a lot of agents around.”
“Don’t sweat, there’s always a lot of Secret Service men around when the President is traveling. Don’t call again unless there’s a real problem. All three keep your lines open. When I next call, I will only activate the vibrators on the side of your watches. Then you have three minutes forty-five seconds, because Kane will be passing me. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
The Chairman broke the circuit and lit another cigarette: 9:40.
The Director spotted Matthew Rogers in a special squad car and went quickly over to him. “Everything under control, Matt?”
“Yes, sir. If anybody tries anything, no one will be able to move for half a mile.”
“Good; what time do you have?”
“Nine-forty-five.”
“Right, you control it from here. I’m going to the Capitol.”
Halt and Mark left the Assistant Director and walked on.
“Elliott calling the Director.”
“Come in, Elliott.”
“They have spotted Matson at the junction of Maryland Avenue and 1st Street, other side of the Garfield statue, southwest corner of the Capitol grounds, near the west front renovation site.”
“Good. Observe and post fifty men around the area, don’t move in yet, brief Mr. Rogers and tell him to keep his men out of Matson’s field of vision.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What the hell is he doing on that side of the Capitol?” said Mark softly. “You couldn’t shoot anyone on the Capitol steps from the northwest side unless you were in a chopper.”
“I agree, it beats me,” said the Director.
They reached the police cordon surrounding the Capitol. The Director showed his credentials to get himself and Andrews through. The young Capitol policeman double-checked them; he couldn’t believe it; he was looking at the real live object. Yes, it was the Director of the FBI. H.A.L. Tyson himself.
“Sorry, sir. Please come through.”
“Elliott to the Director.”
“Yes, Elliott?”
“Head of the Secret Service for you, sir.”
“Stuart.”
“The advance car is leaving the front gate now. Julius will leave in five minutes.”
“Thank you, Stuart. Keep your end up and surprise me.”
“Don’t worry, Halt. We will.”
Five minutes later, the Presidential car left the South Entrance and turned left onto E Street. The advance car passed the Chairman on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and 9th. He smiled, lit another cigarette and waited. Five minutes later, a large Lincoln, flags flying on both front fenders, the Presidential Seal on the doors, passed by the Chairman. Through the misty gray windows, he could see three figures in the back. A limousine known as the “gun car” and occupied by Secret Service agents and the President’s personal physician, followed the President’s car. The Chairman pressed a button on his watch. The vibrator began to tickle his wrist. After ten seconds, he stopped it, walked one block north and hailed a taxi.
“National Airport,” he said to the cab driver, fingering the ticket in his inside pocket.
The vibrator on Matson’s watch was touching his skin. After ten seconds, it stopped. Matson walked to the side of the construction site, bent down and tied his shoelace.
Xan started to take off the tape. He was glad to be moving; he had been bent double all night. First he screwed the barrel into the sight finder.
“Assistant Director to Director. Matson is approaching the construction site. Now he has stopped to tie his shoe. No one on the construction site but I’m asking a helicopter to check it out. There’s a huge crane in the middle of the site which looks deserted.”
“Good. Stay put until the last minute. I’ll give you the timing the moment the President’s car arrives. You must catch them red-handed. Alert all agents on the roof of the Capitol.”
The Director turned to Mark, more relaxed. “I think it’s going to be all right.”
Mark’s eyes were on the steps of the Capitol. “Have you noticed, sir, both Senator Dexter and Senator Harrison are in the welcoming party for the President?”