They both ordered a breaded veal cutlet topped with a fried egg and served with fresh vegetables. Ginger mentioned wine, but Lisa demurred, suggesting Perrier instead.
They ate sparingly, moving through the meal with offhand chatter about the mounting costs of living in the nation's capital and the ludicrousness of the latest youth-oriented fashions.
Ginger could see that her luncheon companion was getting increasingly nervous with each passing minute. She passed on dessert and requested the check.
"Let me…" Lisa protested.
"No, I'll put it on the account," Ginger replied with a wave of a hand. "After all, it does look like we're going to be discussing business."
She paid the check and they moved through the front doors.
"What are you driving?"
"An Alfa," Lisa replied. "Convertible."
"We'll take mine. I'll drive… you talk."
Ginger handed the attendant her car claim check, and five minutes later they pulled out of the parking lot and headed north past the Naval Observatory and toward Chevy Chase.
"Is Nick in the States?"
"You know I can't tell you that."
"I have his home number. I called it all night long and this morning. There was no answer."
Ginger knew that Carter and this woman had worked together. One look at Lisa Berrington's face and figure told her why she had the number of Carter's Georgetown condo.
"He's not in the country right now, Lisa. You know that's all I can tell you until you tell me more."
"I know," Lisa sighed. "Do you know my sister. Delaine?"
Ginger chuckled. "I know of her. I've seen her picture in the paper a few hundred times. I don't travel in those circles."
"But you do know her husband, Stephan Conway."
"Yes, I know about him."
Lisa smiled and met Ginger's eyes. "File?"
Ginger nodded. There was no need to say more. The CIA and the FBI both had extensive files on Stephan Conway. AXE also held a copy of those files as a matter of course.
Stephan Conway was quite a man, or character, depending on which side of him a person stood.
He had been a youthful computer genius and a student activist in the sixties. He eventually lost his rebellious nature, abandoned his liberal activism, and founded a small computer electronics company, Protec, that grew and grew until Conway was a rich man, even by Silicon Valley standards.
But for him that wasn't enough. With the power and wealth that came with his marriage to Delaine Berrington, he went after huge government contracts… and got them. He began buying up small companies and merging with larger ones all over the world, with himself always retaining controlling interest.
By the early 1980s, the company was the undisputed leader in its field, and the government's chief supplier of electronic radar and missile guidance systems.
This knowledge of modem technology, coupled with his wealth, his worldwide business interests, and the enormous clout of his Washington contacts, had recently shoved Stephan Conway into the political arena.
It was an unannounced fact that he would run for a Senate seat in the upcoming elections.
"I got a call from Delaine last night, from West Berlin."
"Yes?"
"It's driving me out of my mind," Lisa blurted.
"How so?"
"Two reasons, really. First, Stephan himself. As you probably know, our parents left both of us very well off. I have always thought that Stephan married Delaine solely for our family name and contacts and her wealth."
"And now the marriage is going sour?" Ginger asked drily.
"I think it's been going sour right from the beginning, and Delaine is just realizing it. She not only sounded very down on the phone, she also sounded scared… petrified."
Ginger pulled into one of the narrow, tree-shaded streets of Chevy Chase, cruised for another half block, and pulled to the curb.
"Afraid?" she asked when she had killed the engine.
"Yes, very."
"I hate to say this, Lisa, but why Nick? I mean, he's hardly trained to handle domestic squabbles."
"I know that," Lisa replied, her face flushing slightly. "There's something else. Delaine hinted that some friends had shown up from Stephan's past. It happened a few weeks ago in California. There was a terrible fight, and when Delaine approached him about it, he called them 'blackmailing bastards' and said that he had told them to go to hell."
"But that wasn't the end of it?"
"No," Lisa replied. "At least. Delaine doesn't think so. Stephan became more and more nervous. And he began to lock himself in his study late at night and make all sorts of odd phone calls. And when they started on this speaking tour in Europe, he hired four bodyguards."
"Speaking tour?"
"Yes, he's going to five countries for the State Department. He's speaking to rallies, trying to convince them of the wisdom and the safety of the NATO missiles."
"I see," Ginger sighed. "That alone would give him reason to hire bodyguards."
"Yes, I suppose it would. But the last thing Delaine said really shook me up. Last night, just before her phone call, they were at a dinner party with a group of German dignitaries, and Delaine overheard Stephen tell two high-ranking German officials that he was positive there was a plot to assassinate him."
This brought Ginger out of her slouch. "Well, that puts a different light on the matter. But Nick…?"
"I didn't want to go to anyone in the Company. I was afraid they would think I was crazy, especially since Stephan and Delaine do have a domestic problem. And besides, I do know Nick personally, and I know what he's capable of accomplishing. Dammit, Ginger, if you would just speak to your boss…"
Ginger furrowed her brow and pursed her lips in thought. She had a pretty good idea that David Hawk would either laugh until his sides hurt, or explode in anger at the idea of his top operative running off to settle a future senator's domestic problems.
On the other hand, if Stephan Conway were being blackmailed and threatened, it could be a major security bomb.
There was also Lisa herself to consider. She was a highly intelligent woman, familiar with the realities of the espionage game, and normally level-headed and rational, certainly not prone to hysteria. Now her nerves were obviously frayed at the ends, and she apparently firmly believed that everything her sister feared had a basis in fact. If she was this shaken, it warranted at least a cursory investigation.
"I'll tell you what, Lisa. I can't promise much, but I'll do what I can."
"When?"
"First thing in the morning."
"Can't you speak to him this afternoon, or this evening?"
"It's Sunday, and I'm not sure he's even in town," Ginger replied.
And, she thought, even if he were — and agreed to let Carter help — where was N3?
He had gotten Boris Simonov to Istanbul, and the last thing Ginger had heard, they were readying false papers to get him on to England or Paris for interrogation.
"I promised Delaine I would get the first flight out to Frankfurt and then on to Berlin. I'm leaving tonight. If I could, I'd like to know something before I leave."
Ginger shrugged and started the car. "As I said, I'll do what I can."
She drove to Connecticut Avenue and turned south. In minutes they had passed out of Montgomery County and entered the District of Columbia.
Ginger pulled the car over when she spotted a corner phone booth.
"Sit tight."
Lisa nervously chewed on her lip and worried the small purse in her lap as she concentrated on Ginger's face through the clear sides of the booth.
The phone call seemed to go on for an eternity.
When at last Ginger returned, Lisa could feel perspiration flowing down her back, making her sweater stick to her skin.