“Speaking of throwing,” she said, sitting up on the edge of the bed, “sorry about the mess.”
Bradley waved a hand and bent over to lift the suitcase off the floor. “I hope you’re not still thinking of leaving.”
Lauren knelt beside him to help clean up. “I don’t know what to think, Nick. We’ve been here four days and we’ve got nothing to show for it. We’re no closer to finding Michael than we were before we got on the plane. How long should we stay here running into dead ends? A week, two weeks? Three weeks?”
“If that’s what it takes, yes. He’s here, in this town, Lauren. Do you really want to fly three thousand miles away from him?”
She looked away. “No. Of course not.”
“Then let’s do something constructive.” Bradley picked up the handheld PC from the nightstand and handed it to her. “You’ve got a direct link to Michael. Let’s use it.”
Lauren started the computer and opened her browser. She selected RETRIEVE AND READ MAIL and began tapping her fingers on the table while waiting for her little computer to download any messages she had received. Although she knew she should hope there would be one from Michael, her emotions were spent. She was numb. To her, it was a clear sign that, deep down, she had given up. She walked over to the window, leaned against the wall, and stared out at the parking lot.
Bradley sat down on the bed and hunched over the tiny computer screen. “Don’t you want to read your messages?”
Lauren kept her gaze on the landscape. “Please, Nick, I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
“I’m not kidding.”
Her head whipped over in his direction. “What?”
He nodded at the small device. “Come look.”
Lauren hurried over to the desk and saw the YOU HAVE 1 NEW MESSAGE prompt. She clicked OK and saw the “lost_in_virginia” moniker in her inbox. “Michael. We’ve got something from Michael!”
With Bradley leaning over her shoulder, she opened the message and began reading. “Thank God,” she said under her breath. Tears glazing her eyes, she glanced up at Bradley. “I don’t understand. The FBI was looking for him, right? So he could testify against Scarponi. They need him. Why would he be a fugitive?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to cooperate.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t he want to testify and put this guy back in jail?”
Bradley turned away and did not answer her.
Lauren sat there for a second, then shook her head. “Something’s very wrong.” She found the small gold key around her neck and squeezed it in her hand, then sank down onto the edge of the bed.
Bradley sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders, drew her body close to his. “I wish I could tell you this all makes sense. But I can’t, because it doesn’t. Right now, I think we need to keep focused on meeting up with him tomorrow. We can’t worry about what other people are doing. Let’s take things a day at a time. Hell, even an hour at a time. Okay?”
She sat there for a long moment before speaking. “You’ve become such a great friend, Nick. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He handed her a tissue and gently rubbed her back. “I’m here for you, for as long as you need me to be. I promise.”
“You’re more than a friend, Nick. You’re kind of like the big brother I never had. I can tell you anything, whatever’s on my mind. I’ve never had that feeling about anyone ever, not even my therapist. Just Michael… and you.”
Bradley creased a corner of his mouth into a smile. “I’m honored.”
She could feel the tension leaving her muscles. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“Not a problem. But I’m worried about your health. With all you’ve been through, with all the stress you’ve been under, I think it’s important for you to get some sleep.”
“Now you’re acting like my doctor.”
Bradley laughed. “I’ve learned that in my line of work you’ve got to be a little of everything. Least of all what people expect you to be.” He brushed the hair back off her face, then stood up. “Get some rest.”
“But it’s the middle of the day; I can’t just go to sleep—”
“You can and you will. Meantime, I’ll snoop around and see if I can find out what Michael did to land himself on the FBI’s fugitive list. It might affect the way we handle your meeting with him tomorrow.”
She closed her eyes and he covered her with the blanket. “Think good thoughts about seeing Michael again. Before you know it, it’ll be five-thirty and you’ll be in his arms.”
“This whole thing will be over, right?”
“It sure will,” Bradley said with a smile. “It’ll all finally be over.”
56
The wind had picked up and was blasting everything and everyone in its path, slamming against the fifty U.S. flags flapping in the bright floodlights at the granite base of the Washington Monument.
DeSantos stood in darkness outside the ring of flags, surveying the general area. After the latest tour bus had pulled out of the parking lot five minutes ago, he had nodded to the park ranger, whose four-to-midnight shift was over.
A moment later, Archer completed his walk around the perimeter and nodded. “Clear.”
“Good, then all we’re missing is our host.”
Another blast of wind hit them head-on, and they turned their backs to shield their faces. “I wish he’d get here already. It’s fucking cold out here,” DeSantos said. “I don’t know why we couldn’t just meet in a car, or at my house or something.” He rubbed his gloved hands together.
“It’s Knox. You never know what the guy’s thinking. And we’re in his good graces. Imagine everyone else.”
“My toes are starting to go numb.” DeSantos stomped his feet. “Must be twenty-five below with the wind. I’m leaving in ten minutes if I can still walk.”
“Want some gum?” Archer asked, chomping away on his Juicy Fruit.
“No, I don’t want some gum. Gum ain’t gonna make my body warm.”
“The cold is all in your head, Hector. Just ignore it.”
“This isn’t more of that mind-body bullshit, is it?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. You can bring blood to your extremities—”
“I know how to get blood to one of my extremities. Does that count?”
Archer shook his head. “I can’t believe we asked you to be Presley’s godfather.”
“Hey, I warned you, bro. I y’am what I y’am.” DeSantos began to jump up and down. “So much for mind-body bullshit. I’m still freaking cold.”
“Then take your mind off it. Guess how many people visit the monument each year.”
“I don’t want to guess.”
“Just go with me on this, will you?”
DeSantos rubbernecked his head into the darkness, then checked his watch. “Fine. Eight hundred thousand.”
Archer looked at him, his eyebrows bunched together. “You’re so damn lucky, you know that?”
“What I don’t understand is why so many people are fascinated by a big stone dick sticking up from the ground.”
Archer glanced sideways at his partner, then shivered as another blast of air wormed around his pants.
“Don’t tell me you’re cold, too. It’s all in your head, Brian. Remember?”
Archer started moving his legs, dancing without music, and said, “Trish and I took a tour about four years ago. You wouldn’t believe how many granite blocks—”
“Gentlemen.”
Archer and DeSantos spun, their hands instinctively moving to their weapons.
Douglas Knox was standing in a black wool overcoat, his collar turned up above the level of his ears. “This is how my elite intelligence masters protect themselves?”