“Calls will initially be routed through Helen,” Mulholland continued. Helen beamed and raised her pencil in acknowledgment. “Calls from the Baltimore-Washington area will be put through to either me, Cole, Don or Hank. If we’re lucky enough to get a flood of calls, we’ll switch some of you guys over. We’ll have a separate desk to handle calls from the Arizona area, because we know that they were there originally. But all other calls will be put through to you on a rotating basis, depending who’s free. Helen will be issuing you with questionnaires to fill in for each call.” He held one up to show them. “Basically, all we want is the name and number of the caller, who they saw and where, and any information they have which might be pertinent: description of their vehicle, names they were using, and so on.” He held up another sheet. “You’ll have this information in front of you, detailing the aliases we know they have used, car registration plates and details of credit cards. If you get a match, inform us on the Baltimore-Washington desk, otherwise file them according to the state they were seen in. Helen has a filing system rigged up over there.” He pointed to a set of filing cabinets. “Any questions?” He was faced with a wall of shaking heads. He clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s do it,” he said. The agents went back to their desks. Cole Howard decided to visit Andy Kim and the programmers. He found Andy crouched over his computer, a worried frown on his face. “What’s up, Andy?” Howard asked, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. On the screen was a complex line-drawing of what appeared to be a baseball stadium surrounded by urban sprawl.
Andy shook his head, then flicked his hair out of his eyes. “Nothing fits, Cole,” he said despondently. “Take a look at this.” Howard looked over his shoulder. “This is Oriole Park in Baltimore — the President’s due to be there tomorrow evening with the Prime Minister. This is one of the most obvious possibilities. He was going to be driven to the ball park but Sanger has cut out ground transportation wherever he can and now he’ll be arriving by Marine One, the helicopter. He’s vulnerable leaving the helicopter, but only for a few seconds, and he’s safe walking to his box because then he’s inside. Obviously he presents the best target while in the box watching the game. But I can only fit two of the snipers into office blocks or hotels which overlook the ball park. There’s nowhere for the third sniper, the one who is furthest away.”
“So you know it’s not going to be at the ball park?” said Howard.
“But Cole, it’s like that for every venue we try. We can find space for one sniper, occasionally two, but often it’s the third one that screws us up.” He tapped the screen. “It’s so high up, there aren’t many buildings that tall. In the desert, he was on the butte, remember?”
“I remember,” said Howard. “So he could be on a hill maybe?”
Andy nodded. “I ran the topography through the computer as well as the buildings. If he was on a hill we’d spot it. Camp David, for instance, where he is today with the Prime Minister. We ran the surrounding woods through the program, but no match.” He turned to look at the FBI agent, his eyes reddened from not enough sleep. “That third sniper is a real problem,” he said.
“Could it be something other than a building?” Howard asked. “A plane, maybe?”
Andy shook his head. “Planes move too fast for a sniper, and they’re too unstable.”
Howard frowned. “A helicopter?”
“Too much vibration.”
Howard shrugged. “Let me give it some thought, Andy,” he said. “In the meantime, why don’t you try ignoring the long shot? — concentrate on the two closest. That would give the Secret Service boys something to work on. I mean, better safe than sorry. They can check out all the venues where two out of three match, couldn’t they?”
Andy nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“There’s something else that’s been worrying me,” said Howard. “The two men and the woman, the ones on the ground close to the target.”
Andy frowned. “What’s wrong?” He ran his hand through his hair, brushing it away from his eyes.
“We’ve been assuming that they’re organising the hit, right?”
“Right,” agreed Andy.
“Well, what if they’re not? What if they’re actually part of the hit? What if they’re carrying guns?”
“And if the snipers fail, they’ll finish the job?” said Andy, his eyes sparkling.
Howard nodded. They had all been assuming that Carlos, Hennessy and Bailey were helping the snipers calibrate their sights. But it was perfectly possible that they could actually be part of the assassination. “I’m going to speak to Bob Sanger about it,” he said.
“So even if we find the snipers, the President might still be at risk?”
“That’s what I’m frightened of,” said Howard. He saw that Andy had a direct line on his desk and he noted down the number. He looked around the office and saw a dozen programmers, including Rick Palmer, hard at work, but no sign of Bonnie.
“Bonnie’s at home, I told her to get some sleep,” said Andy, as if reading his mind.
Howard squeezed his shoulder. “That’s where you should be,” he said.
“There’ll be plenty of time for sleep when all this is over,” said Andy, turning back to the screen.
Howard patted Andy on the back and returned to his office. His desk faced the one being used by Don Clutesi, who was lounging back in his chair, his phone lodged between his chin and his shoulder. He winked at Howard as he sat down. Howard picked up his own phone and called home. He’d been ringing all day but no-one had answered and he’d assumed that Lisa had been out playing golf. This time she answered and she appeared no less lukewarm than the last time they’d spoken.
“Do you have any idea yet when you’ll be coming back?” she asked.
“Hopefully we’ll make some progress tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow, I should have a better idea then. How are the children?”
“Asleep,” she said. Howard wondered if she’d played golf with her father that day. The seconds ticked off with neither of them speaking. Lisa broke the silence. “Cole, why do you have Trivial Pursuit cards in your suit pockets?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” said Howard, bewildered by the change of subject.
“I was taking out some of your suits for cleaning and I found them in an inside pocket.”
“Ah,” said Howard.
“So what gives?”
“I was practising,” he said.
“You mean you were cheating,” she said.
Howard groaned inwardly. “Honey, I wasn’t cheating. I was just going over a few cards before we had dinner with your father, that’s all.”
“Cole, to me that sounds like cheating. I think it’s despicable. Are you so insecure that you have to resort to cheating to beat my father at a board game?”
Howard sighed. Sometimes there was no arguing with her. “Maybe we could talk about this when I get back,” he said.