He answered it on the second ring. “Elise. Did you find anything from that photo?”
“Yeah, it belonged to a retired Senator from Virginia.”
“What’s the name?”
“Senator Charles Finney.”
Sam let the name sit for a moment. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it anywhere. “Is he still in politics?”
“No. He has an exemplary record but retired several years ago after an accident left him in a wheelchair. Since then he’s remained largely out of politics and all public life.”
A wheelchair?
Sam shook his head. It couldn’t possibly be the same guy, or could it? The terrorist wasn’t omnipresent. If it was Finney, maybe he comes here every day at this time.
“Want to know the address of the rather luxurious retirement home he resides in?”
“Let me guess, 122 K Street, NW. Washington, D.C.”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“Lucky guess. All right. That’s within walking distance of here.”
“Then what?” she asked.
“Then I’m going to join Tom, and dive the Clarion Call.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Sam knocked on the entrance door of the Farragut Residences.
A receptionist greeted him, and let him in. She was an attractive lady in her early forties. Her combination of high heels and a slender dress that accentuated her figure made him think he was talking to a concierge at a fancy hotel more than an employee of a nursing home.
He explained who he needed to see and was given the room number.
“I’ll ask if he’s receiving visitors,” she said, picking up her phone.
Sam nodded. “Okay.”
She spoke quietly into her phone, hung up, and then said to Sam, “He will see you now.”
“Thank you.”
She smiled. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No idea.”
“Take the elevator to the top. He’s the only room on that floor.”
“Thank you.”
The receptionist took him all the way to the glass elevator, swiped her electronic keycard and then pressed the uppermost number. The elevator ascended the giant atrium all the way to the penthouse level.
Sam got out, knocked on a solid mahogany door, and waited. It had no number or name. Presumably, anyone who had access to the penthouse knew precisely who lived here.
The automated door opened inward.
An older man in a wheel chair met him. “Can I help you?”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Senator Finney?”
“Retired,” the man replied. “And you are?”
“Sam Reilly. I’m working on this terrorist attack.”
Finney ran his eyes across Sam’s disheveled appearance. “CIA or FBI?”
“Neither.”
The old man smiled. “What are you doing here, then?”
“It’s a long story,” Sam said. “I’m following up a lead. If you want, contact the Secretary of Defense — she knows all about it. I’m told you remain in touch with a lot of people from Congress and the Pentagon and are familiar with her?”
Finney nodded.
Sam continued. “She’ll vouch for me.”
“It’s all right, come in.” Finney swung his wheelchair around, heading back into the main living area. “I don’t have many State Secrets to protect and I sure as hell have the time.”
Retired Senator Finney stopped at a large living room. It had floor to ceiling glass, overlooking a balcony with a view of the Capitol building, leading all the way through to the White House.
“Have a seat,” Finney said, motioning to a three-seater leather couch. “You want a drink?”
Sam dropped into the comfortable couch. “No thanks, sir.”
“All right, what’s this about?”
Sam handed him the photo found at Old Tony’s Pizzeria. “Do you recognize this photo?”
Finney took the photograph from Sam and stared at the image. “That’s an old photo of now very old men.”
“Sure is. Do you recognize any of them?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“Really?” Sam persisted. “I was told that’s you, there, third on the right.” He helpfully pointed. “It sure looks like you, doesn’t it? I was hoping you might tell me who the other three men were and what you were all doing together?”
He took out his glasses and examined the photo more thoughtfully. “So it is.”
“Now that you have your glasses, sir, do you think you could take a look at the other three gentlemen and see if their faces jog your memory?”
Finney slowly studied each face and frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Nothing?” Sam asked. “But you were there.”
“So you keep telling me, but I can’t for the life of me remember it. You see, I was a very public figure. I had thousands of photos taken. How would I know?”
“Do you remember ever having a photo taken in front of the ship, Global One?”
“That name doesn’t sound familiar, but I might have.”
“Have you travelled on many large ships?”
“Hundreds, more’s the pity. I was a Diplomat in the late 1940s. I spent a lot of time in my cabin, suffering seasickness. Terrible malady. Have you ever been seasick?”
“No,” Sam said shortly. “Please, will you have one more look?”
Finney ran his eyes across Sam’s concerned face and then dutifully studied the photo once more. This time he let out the softest of audible gasps. “Well. You’re right, that photo indeed looks very similar to me. But it wasn’t me.”
Sam felt his heart race. “No. Who was it?”
“That’s my brother.”
“Your brother?” Sam asked. “I didn’t realize you had a brother. Do you know where I might find him now? It could be vitally important to cracking this case and neutralizing this terrorist threat.”
Finney shook his head. “I’m afraid he went missing back in the late nineties and hasn’t been seen since.”
Sam said, “I’m sorry. Did you two have a falling out or something?”
“No. You misunderstand me Mr. Reilly. In 1996 my brother went out on a local fishing boat off the coast of Sandy Point State Park and never came back. They found his fishing boat capsized, but my brother’s remains were never found.”
“Again, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too. My brother was a good man. But, that’s life, isn’t it? No one lives forever. He died doing what he loved.”
“I suppose that’s something.” Sam stood up. “All right, I should go. I’m sorry to have taken up your time.”
“Not a problem. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance.”
Sam glanced out the balcony, once more admiring the incredible vista from the Capitol building through to the White House. His smile was genuine. “You know, that’s quite some view.”
“Yeah, I bought the place so that I could wake up and look out at that view every day. It reminds me why good men — like you and I — work so hard for the betterment of our country.”
Sam understood his patriotism. “Have you been following the terrorist attack?”
Finney nodded. “That’s why we pay the price.”
“What price?”
“Any burden we need to keep America safe.”
“Congresswoman Bledes paid that price.”
Finney cocked an eyebrow. “Congresswoman Bledes is dead?”
“Yes. She was shot while trying to escape the capital this morning.”
Finney paled. His hands twisted the rug covering his legs, looking flustered. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware. Congresswoman Bledes was a remarkable woman. She alone has done more than most for this country.” He paused, his gray eyes meeting Sam’s. “What about her two companions?”
“Who?”
“I thought she was with Congressman Grzonkowski and Carmichael today.”