“I’m not, honest injun. But you haven’t seen Audie for a long time.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?” Otto insisted, and it was unlike him. His wife, Louise, had probably made the suggestion. Strongly.
“Because I’m not ready to expose my granddaughter to another woman. Another relationship.”
Otto hesitated for a long time, and when he spoke he sounded resigned. “It’ll have to happen sooner or later, kemo sabe, and maybe everybody knows it except for you.”
McGarvey was on the verge of lashing back, but a wave of sadness nearly overpowered him. “Later,” he said quietly.
“La Traviatta around the corner from your apartment. We’ll get a babysitter. Eight?”
“Eight,” McGarvey said and he broke the connection.
When he looked up a minute or two later he realized they were just getting on the Beltway outside Falls Church, less than ten minutes from the office, and he also realized that he had nothing to say to Admiral French that made any sense at this point. He told the cabbie that he’d changed his mind and to turn around and take him back to Georgetown.
Gail hadn’t tried to call the apartment to find out what was keeping him, which McGarvey appreciated. It gave him a little time alone to get his thoughts and emotions in order, and to get back into focus. Sitting by the bow windows that looked over at Rock Creek Park, an oasis of calmness and serenity in a city that had always kept a frenetic pace, he tried to balance his need to work alone with the realities of the situation they would be faced with out in the Gulf. The Coast Guard could escort them all the way to Florida’s east coast. A SEAL team could be stationed aboard the rig, or stand off in a submarine that would shadow the platform. Short of that, the rig could be put under constant satellite surveillance and at the first hint of trouble a rapid response team could be deployed from McDill Air Force Base in Tampa or, when the rig was farther south, from Homestead Air Force Base in Miami.
But all of that would do nothing more than delay the attack on the rig, which might not even take place until after it was anchored, and the Pax impellers installed. If a cable on one of the huge water augers were to part, serious damage would be done to the platform, and certainly there would be casualties, including deaths.
When the attack did come, McGarvey preferred that it would be out in the Gulf, where he had a better chance of dealing with it. In tight quarters aboard the rig he figured that he could more easily handle a strike force that probably wouldn’t involve more than a half-dozen men. Professionals, which would be their one exploitable weakness: pros were predictable. It was their training.
McGarvey looked up suddenly as someone came to the door, and he reached for his pistol and glanced at the wall clock at the same time Gail walked in. It was a few minutes after seven already, and he hadn’t noticed the fading light outside until just now.
She started to smile when she saw him by the window, but then spotted the pistol in his hand, and her expression dropped. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He’d been lost in operational details, and reaching for the gun was merely a reflex move. Like most professionals he too was predictable, something the contractor who had done Hutchinson Island had not been. It was the one troubling aspect left to consider.
She came across and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I watched her acceptance speech. Bright lady. But she doesn’t look like the type who suffers fools gladly.”
“I think she’s a little overwhelmed,” McGarvey said, and he didn’t catch the odd set to Gail’s lips, because she’d turned away to put her coat over the back of the couch.
“And the shooting afterwards was nothing less than stunning. How is she doing?”
“She’s tough. But I don’t really know what she’s thinking. She holds in just about everything.”
“I figured you’d come out to the office this afternoon. The admiral wants an update.”
“It was a long trip, and I had some stuff to figure out.”
“If you’re tired I can fix us something to eat here.”
“I’m meeting Otto and his wife at La Traviatta around the block at eight,” McGarvey said. “And I want you to come with me because this concerns the operation.”
“Has he come up with something?” Gail asked, suddenly bright.
“He has some ideas he wanted to talk about, and so do I because I want you with me on the oil rig, just you and I.”
Gail saw the logic. “A Coast Guard escort would scare them off, and you
“Not if it’s the same guy from Hutchinson Island. He’ll have help, but it won’t be squad size.”
“Why not?” Gail asked.
“Because he’s too arrogant, too sure of himself,” McGarvey said. “Anyway it’s a moot point. We’re getting no help because no one believes Eve is in any danger now. The bad guys were taken out in Oslo. And it would be politically incorrect to interfere in a civilian operation.”
After a moment she nodded. “I’m in,” she said.
It was a Sunday evening and the Italian restaurant was only half full. Otto and Louise were sitting at a booth near the rear of the dining room, and when McGarvey and Gail walked in Otto waved them back. He jumped up. “Oh, wow, you’re Gail, and you’re prettier than Mac said you were, honest injun.”
Gail smiled. “Thanks.” She and Otto shook hands, and Otto introduced his wife, Louise.
“Welcome to the club,” she said, her smile warm, as she and Gail shook hands.
They all sat down, and for the first minutes busied themselves with Chianti and breadsticks and ordering their food. And McGarvey watched the naturalness between Otto and Louise and Gail, which compounded his feelings of being painted into a corner. But it was warm, and despite the bit of resentment nagging at the back of his head, he relaxed and went with the flow, because they were no nearer to any answers that made sense than they had been from the beginning and he was with friends.
“I think the assassination attempt on our lady scientist is a dead end now — no pun intended — but Kirk told me that you might have some ideas about our contractor,” Gail said. “Eric didn’t say anything to me, but have you guys worked out something?”
Otto shrugged. His usually out-of-control frizzy red hair was brushed back and tied into a ponytail, and although he had no tie, his shirt was clean and his dove gray sport coat was new, all due to Louise. “We’re getting nowhere trying to trace his background by any conventional routes. He’s a total blank, as if he doesn’t exist.”
“But he does,” Gail said, and McGarvey just listened.
“We saw the back of his head in the video, we have the record of his renting the car, and we have the murder of a gay schoolteacher in San Francisco. But he left no physical evidence behind, not at Hutchinson Island or anywhere else. He even wiped down the hard hat and visitor pass he used on the tour.”
“Makes him a professional,” Gail said.
“Maybe the best since Carlos.”
“Methodology,” McGarvey said, knowing exactly where Otto was taking it.
“That and his connections and the motivation. He’s good, which means he’s been well trained, though we’ve come up blank down that path. But it also means that he’s well paid. Somebody with big bucks hired him.”
“Schlagel’s got the money,” Gail suggested.
“Too obvious,” Otto said. “He couldn’t afford to have such an immediate tie to his organization. And he’s distanced himself from the two guys in Oslo.”
“Oil,” McGarvey said. “Marinaccio in Dubai with help from the Saudis, and Octavio with help from his pals in Caracas.”
“It would fit,” Otto said. “But those people are all but unapproachable unless we have rock-solid proof. And even then it’d be next to impossible to dig her out of Dubai and especially not him out of Venezuela.”
“They have to travel,” Gail suggested.
“With bodyguards,” McGarvey said. “And most governments don’t look kindly on the FBI snatching people and hauling them across national borders — especially not people with that sort of money.” He smiled slightly. “But
