“Where exactly is that?”
“The entrance is on Tenth Street between K Street and L. The Capitol Building is on Tenth between L and M. It’s literally a minute away. But your meeting isn’t at noon, it’s at eleven-thirty.”
“What?”
“Your meeting is scheduled for eleven-thirty.”
“Has it been changed?”
“No, ma’am, it always was eleven-thirty.”
Judy was furious. To arrive late would create a bad impression even before she opened her mouth. This was already going wrong.
She controlled her anger. “I guess someone made a mistake.” She checked her watch. If she drove like hell, she could be there in ninety minutes. “It’s no problem, I’m running ahead of schedule,” she lied. “I’ll be there.”
“Very good.”
She put her foot down and watched the Monte Carlo’s speedometer climb to a hundred. Fortunately the road was not busy. Most of the morning traffic was headed the other way, into San Francisco.
Brian Kincaid had told her the time of the meeting, so he would be late, too. They were traveling separately because he had a second appointment in Sacramento, at the FBI field office there. Judy dialed the San Francisco office and spoke to the SAC’s secretary. “Linda, this is Judy. Would you call Brian and tell him the governor’s aide is expecting us at eleven-thirty, not twelve noon, please?”
“I think he knows that,” Linda said.
“No, he doesn’t. He told me twelve. See if you can reach him and warn him.”
“Sure will.”
“Thanks.” Judy hung up and concentrated on her driving.
A few minutes later she heard a police siren.
She looked in her mirror and saw the familiar tan paint job of a California Highway Patrol car.
“I do not fucking believe this,” she said.
She pulled over and braked hard. The patrol car pulled in behind her. She opened her door.
An amplified voice said: “STAY IN THE CAR.”
She took our her FBI shield, held it at arm’s length so the cop could see it, then got out.
“STAY IN THE CAR!”
She heard a note of fear in the voice and saw that the patrolman was alone. She sighed. She could just imagine some rookie cop pulling a gun and shooting her out of nervousness.
She held out her shield so he could see it. “FBI!” she shouted. “Look, for Christ’s sake!”
“GET BACK IN THE CAR!”
She looked at her watch. It was ten-thirty. Shaking with frustration, she sat in her car. She left the door open.
There was a maddeningly long wait.
At last the patrolman approached her. “The reason I stopped you is that you were doing ninety-nine miles per hour—”
“Just look at this,” she said, holding out her shield.
“What’s that?”
“For Christ’s sake, it’s an FBI shield! I’m an agent on urgent business and you’ve just delayed me!”
“Well, you sure don’t look like—”
She jumped out of the car, startling him, and waved a finger under his chin. “Don’t you tell me I don’t look like a fucking agent. You don’t recognize an FBI shield, so how would you know what an agent looks like?” She put her hands on her hips, pushing her jacket back so that he could see her holster.
“Can I see your license, please?”
“Hell, no. I’m leaving now, and I’m going to drive to Sacramento at ninety-nine miles per hour, do you understand?” She got back into the car.
“You can’t do that,” he said.
“Write your congressman,” she said, and she slammed the door and drove off.
She moved into the fast lane, accelerated to a hundred, then checked her watch. She had wasted about five minutes. She could still make it.
She had lost her temper with the patrolman. He would tell his superior, who would complain to the FBI. Judy would get a reprimand. But if she had been polite to the guy, she would still be there. “Shit,” she said feelingly.
She reached the turnoff for downtown Sacramento at eleven-twenty. By eleven twenty-five she was entering the parking garage on Tenth Street. It took her a couple of minutes to find a slot. She ran down the staircase and across the street.
The Capitol Building was a white stone palace like a wedding cake, set in immaculate gardens bordered by giant palm trees. She hurried along a marble hall to a large doorway with GOVERNOR carved over it. She stopped, took a couple of calming breaths, and checked her watch.
It was exactly eleven-thirty. She had got there on time. The Bureau would not look incompetent.
She opened the double doors and stepped inside.
She found herself in a large lobby presided over by a secretary behind an enormous desk. On one side was a row of chairs where, to her surprise, she saw Brian Kincaid waiting, looking cool and relaxed in a crisp dark gray suit, his white hair combed neatly, not at all like someone who had rushed to get here. She was suddenly conscious that she was perspiring.
When Kincaid caught her eye, she saw a flash of surprise in his expression, swiftly suppressed.
She said: “Uh … hi, Brian.”
“Morning.” He looked away.
He did not thank her for sending a message to warn him that the meeting was earlier.
She asked: “What time did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago.”
That meant he had known the correct time for the meeting. But he had told her it was half an hour later. Surely he had not deliberately misled her? It seemed almost childish.
Before she had time to reach a conclusion, a young black man emerged from a side door. He spoke to Brian. “Agent Kincaid?”
He stood up. “That’s me.”
“And you must be Agent Maddox. Mr. Honeymoon will see you both now.”
They followed him along the corridor and around a corner. As they walked, he said: “We call this the Horseshoe, because the governor’s offices are grouped around three sides of a rectangle.”
Halfway along the second side they passed another lobby, this one occupied by two secretaries. A young man holding a file waited on a leather couch. Judy guessed that was the way to the governor’s personal office. A few steps on, they were shown into Honeymoon’s room.
He was a big man with close-cropped hair turning gray. He had taken off the coat of his gray pinstripe suit to reveal black suspenders. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled, but his silk tie was fastened tight in a high pin- through collar. He removed a pair of gold-rimmed half-glasses and stood up. He had a dark, sculptured face that wore a don’t-fuck-with-me expression. He could have been a police lieutenant, except he was too well dressed.
Despite his intimidating appearance, his manner was courteous. He shook their hands and said: “I appreciate your coming here all the way from San Francisco.”
“No problem,” said Kincaid.
They sat down.
Without preamble Honeymoon said: “What’s your assessment of the situation?”
Kincaid said: “Well, sir, you particularly asked to meet with the agent at the sharp end, so I’ll let Judy here fill you in.”
Judy said: “We haven’t caught these people yet, I’m afraid.” Then she cursed herself for beginning with an apology.
