“Where is he now?”
“On his way back to Taiwan, but his wife didn’t go with him. Looked as if he was in a big hurry to get out, and it came right after he was briefed at the White House.”
“Who gave the briefing?”
“Tony Croft, the President’s adviser on foreign affairs. That’s all we were able to come up with. No telling what they gave him.” Rudolph looked cornered. “The problem is, if you’re suggesting that Lee was involved in the attempt on your life it’s going to take us to some places I don’t know if I’d care to go. Do you know what I mean?”
“Comes with the job,” McGarvey said.
“Don’t I know it.” Rudolph glanced at the files spread out on the table. “Will the CIA give us a hand with this? We’re going to need someone watching him in Taiwan, and we’re going to need more background information on his other operations because right now it looks as if we’re going to have to combine both investigations, and I’m going to need something solid to bring to Dr. Pierone.”
“There might be no connection after all,” McGarvey said, though he didn’t believe it. “Nishimura was fired two years ago.”
“You have to ask yourself what else a man like Lee has to hide, I mean in addition to funneling money into the White House? What does he have to fear from you?”
“We’re going to find out.”
Rudolph’s expression softened momentarily. “How is your daughter?”
“She’ll be getting out of the hospital in a couple of days. I’m putting her in a safehouse until this is all over.”
“The sonofabitch,” Rudolph said. “For money and power.”
Maybe something else too. McGarvey told himself. Something none of them had thought about yet.
EIGHT
McGarvey was still beating himself up over Jacqueline’s death. He knew he had to stop it if he was to do his job, but last night with Kathleen had only confused him more, deepened his dark mood. He stood at the end of Canal Street looking toward the bombed-out ruins of Jake’s restaurant reliving every moment from the time he and Liz had arrived until the bomb exploded, trying to work out in his mind what he could have done differently to save Jacqueline’s life.
Tourist season was in full swing and traffic was heavy. The street had been cleaned up, but nothing had been done to start rebuilding the shattered restaurant blocked off now by yellow crime scene tape. A police car and two BCI vans were parked in front, and several men were carefully sifting through the rubble looking for clues, bits of bomb fragments, anything that could help them pinpoint what kind of explosive was used and where it was manufactured. The investigation would drag on here for weeks, and in the meantime whoever had targeted him would try again.
A few gawkers lingered as they passed the scene of destruction. The number of deaths had risen to twenty-two, and although this place was not as famous as the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, people had died violent deaths here; terrorism on American soil, and people were frightened and curious.
The bombing was still the main story in all the newspapers and on the networks, but so far no solid connection had been made between the attack and the shootout on the Canal Street bridge a couple of blocks away. Washington was a violent city, and life went on, the shooting might have been drug related. It was a story the FBI and Metropolitan Police were doing nothing to dispute.
Sooner or later he was going to have to return to his apartment and face Jacqueline’s things. He’d have to pack them up and send them to her parents in Aix en Provence. He’d never met them, but Jacqueline had spoken fondly about her folks often enough that he felt as if he knew them well. They would be confused and hurting now, and deserved something from the man she’d wanted to marry. But not yet. He couldn’t face that task now.
A lot of flowers had been placed on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, and McGarvey looked at them for a long time before he flipped his cigarette away and got back in his car. Twenty-one people besides Jacqueline had lost their lives, and their friends and family were grieving, as he was, trying to find answers, trying to find a rhyme or reason, paying their last respects, doing something, anything to help them over this tremendous psychological hurdle. Something. They were doing something.
Time now, he thought, for him to do his thing. The grieving could come later. Like Doyle had said, he’d been running away from commitments all of his life. Time to stop.
Merging with traffic, he called the duty officer at Langley to find out where Dick Adkins was. The former acting DDO was in his office, and the call was rolled over to him.
“Are you coming in today?” Adkins asked. He sounded harried.
“I’m on my way to the hospital now. I’ll see you about noon.”
“How’s your daughter?”
“Better,” McGarvey said. “How’s everything there?”
“Busy,” Adkins said tersely. “See you when you get here.” He broke the connection.
The whole Agency was under pressure, and until McGarvey showed up, Adkins was in the hot seat. But if Dick thought he was going to be able to sit back and take it easy, he was mistaken.
A young, good-looking, athletically built man was seated on a chair next to the bed in Liz’s room when McGarvey showed up. He and Liz were deep in conversation and it took a moment before they realized they were no longer alone and the man jumped up.
“Good morning, sir,” he said. “I’m Todd Van Buren. I have this shift.”
McGarvey recognized him from the Farm. He was one of Paul Isaacson’s people. “Are you a student?”
“No, sir, I’m an instructor. Special weapons, PT and hand-to-hand combat.”
Liz was beaming. Although the left side of her face was almost completely covered in bandages, she had managed to put on some makeup and fix her hair, and she was sitting up in bed. “Good morning, Father,” she said.
McGarvey, amused, gave her a peck on the cheek. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“A lot better. Todd has been telling me about my class. They wanted to know if they could come for a visit later today.”
“Are you up to it?”
“Definitely. It’s been kinda boring around here.”
“They won’t stay long, Mr. McGarvey. I’ll make sure of it,” Van Buren said. “But they’ve been asking about her.”
“I want them screened.”
“Don’t worry, sir, nobody’s getting in here who doesn’t belong.” Van Buren gave Liz a warm, interested look. “They’d have to deal with me first.”
“That’s good to know,” McGarvey said. “Why don’t you get a cup of coffee, give us ten minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” Van Buren said, practically falling over himself to get out of the room, but not before giving Liz another warm look.
Liz was grinning. “Don’t you think he’s beautiful, Daddy?”
McGarvey laughed. “You might embarrass him if you tell him that.”
Liz caught herself and looked sheepish. “I never noticed him before, but he asked for this detail, and he seems competent enough.”
“Good, maybe he can help keep you out of trouble.”
“Okay,” she said demurely.
Kathleen breezed in and gave her ex-husband a kiss. “I thought I’d find you here.” She gave her daughter a kiss. “Good morning, Elizabeth, how are you feeling?”
Liz’s gaze went from her mother to her father and back again, her smile widening. “A lot better, Mother, I mean it.”
“Good,” Kathleen said. “I spoke with your doctor just now and he said you’re about ready to leave the hospital.” She turned back to McGarvey. “This business about our staying in the safe house could last indefinitely, is that right?”