“They still down?” asked the driver. His name was Harry. Bolden recognized him as the rangy, gray-haired man who’d come to the rescue in Union Square.
“No one’s moving yet,” answered Walter, seated in the lookout’s seat, shorter, paunchier, in need of a shave and a shower. He was studying a rectangular object similar to a Palm personal assistant. A topographic map was brightly illuminated on its screen. At its edge, a triangle of dots remained motionless. “Satellite tracking device,” he explained. “You familiar with LoJack? Works just like that. Just on people, not cars. Looks like all the other goons have headed home for some shut-eye.”
“People with transmitters?” asked Jenny.
“They’re ‘chipped,’ ” said Harry. “Don’t look so surprised. The army’s been using the technology for years. Only way they could find our Delta operators in Afghanistan.” He glanced over his shoulder. “How you doin’, my man? Think you can hold out till we can get you to a hospital? Have a doctor clean you up?”
“He’s not going to a hospital,” said Bobby Stillman. “Not yet. He’s a wanted murderer, for Christ’s sake. You think a man walking into the emergency room with a cross carved on his chest isn’t going to raise some questions?” She leaned forward and tapped Harry on the shoulder. “Stop at an all-night supermarket when you get into D.C. We can pick up some lidocaine spray, antibiotic cream, and bandages there. That’ll have to do for now.”
Bolden pulled the blanket around him, unable to keep his gaze from Bobby Stillman. He was hoping to spot a hint of resemblance between the two of them, something to prove to him that she was his mother. Something other than the “change of name” form that Marty Kravitz had dug up in the Albany county clerk’s office stating that John Joseph Stillman would now and forever be known as Thomas Franklin Bolden.
“Wondering if you’re really mine?” Bobby Stillman asked, catching him staring at her. “Surgery. Nose, cheeks, my hair’s dyed. After twenty-five years, I’d be surprised if you still recognized me… even if I hadn’t changed a wink.”
“You were there,” he whispered hoarsely. “Last night. I saw you.”
“At the dinner?” asked Jenny, looking between them.
“She was outside watching.”
“Yes. I was there,” said Bobby Stillman.
“How long were you watching me?”
“Your whole life.”
Bolden considered her words. “I never phoned you,” he said.
“No, you didn’t.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Jenny.
“That’s what set them off,” Bolden explained, going slowly. “Guilfoyle had come across a few indicators, minor things that they could have written off to business. But it was the phone calls that convinced them. Three nights in a row, someone placed a call from my apartment to her house. But I was in Milwaukee last week. It couldn’t have been me.” He looked back at Bobby Stillman. “You didn’t want them to miss it.”
Bobby Stillman nodded, but in the rearview mirror, Bolden caught Walter’s smile. It was his handiwork. Jefferson could hack into his bank accounts. Walter could tamper with his phone records. Three cheers for personal privacy. “Why didn’t you just shoot up a flare?” he asked.
“You have to understand how important it was for us to get inside Jefferson. We’d tried so many times and failed. The security was just too tight.”
“Why not just ask me?”
“And say what? ‘Hi. I’m your mom. Sorry I’ve been gone for twenty-five years. Now that I’m back, I’ve got some bad news. You’re in business with a world-class sneak, a murderer, and a threat to the entire country. I’ve come to ask you to risk your career and everything else you’ve busted your butt to earn, to help me bring him down.’ ” Bobby Stillman looked into her son’s eyes. “I don’t think that would have worked. No, Thomas, we had to show you what they were capable of. We had to make you feel it.”
“What did you expect me to do?”
“We knew that Jacklin would make the first move. It wasn’t Guilfoyle who came across the indicators. It was Cerberus. Cerberus is what they call their all-knowing, all-seeing data mining system. What’s that company you’re about to sell Jefferson? Trendrite. Yeah, well, it’s like Trendrite on steroids. Anyway, Cerberus picked you up. We imagined they’d question you, maybe cause some problems at work. Discreetly at first, just enough so you’d realize they’d compromised your privacy.”
“And then?”
“And then we were going to contact you and tell you what was what. Point you in the right direction. It was just a matter of letting you be yourself. You would push right back.”
Bolden held her eyes, damning her. “I guess I didn’t push hard enough.”
“I… I didn’t…” Words formed on Bobby Stillman’s lips, but she didn’t continue.
“What?” said Bolden. “You didn’t expect them to do this to me? You said it yourself. You wanted me to ‘feel it.’ You know something? It worked.”
“I had no idea they were so desperate. I-”
“You knew damn well this is what they’d do. This, or something like it.”
Bobby Stillman swallowed, her face taut. “No. This time was different. They went farther. Too far.”
“It’s Crown,” said Jenny. “I saw it in the minutes.”
“What minutes?” asked Bobby Stillman.
“The club’s,” said Jenny. “I found them upstairs in Jacklin’s house. It’s what they call themselves. The Patriots Club. Von Arx from the FBI, Edward Logsdon, Jacklin, Gordon Ramser, Charles Connolly, and Mickey Schiff.”
Jenny went on. “They’re going to do something to Senator McCoy. She won’t join their group. They’re waiting to hear from President Ramser if he could convince her.”
“They’re going to assassinate her,” said Bobby Stillman. “It’s all set for this morning. At the inauguration.”
“You know about this, too?” Bolden asked.
His mother nodded. “We got it out of the Scanlon operative we nabbed at Union Square. That’s the good news. The bad news is that he didn’t know the when and how. Only the where.”
Crown. Bobby Stillman. Bolden put a hand to his forehead. It all fit now.
“Have you called the police or the Secret Service?” asked Jenny.
Bobby Stillman frowned. “And say what? Should I mention who I am? Or that I’m shielding a suspect wanted for murder in the state of New York? That makes two killers. Why not call the FBI while we’re at it? Put me through to Director Von Arx. Oh, I forgot, he’s part of the club, too.”
Jenny stared at her, aghast. “And so… we do nothing to stop it.”
Bobby Stillman lowered her head. “I don’t know what we can do.”
They drove in silence. Snow fell steadily, a white wilderness illuminated by the headlights. They turned onto George Washington Parkway. Here and there, the Potomac peeked from the trees, wide and flat and dark. He peered at the water, wanting answers.
“You have no idea what it took to walk away.”
The words were so hushed that Bolden thought that they might have come from inside him. He looked across the seat at his mother. “I was your son. You’d already seen fit to dump my father. You shouldn’t have dumped me, too.”
“I was on the run. I couldn’t take you with me.”
“Why not? What was the worst that could happen? You get caught, they take me away. Same difference.”
Bobby Stillman couldn’t hold his gaze. “Because you slowed me down.”
“Ah, the truth.”