'He's not here, I'm sorry.'
'Okay, let's go to the citizens.'
Another file of photos was provided.
'Take your time,' said one of the de briefers
'Remember, he'll be heavier, balder, he may have facial hair, he--'
'Mel, I think Julie understands that,' said Bonson.
Julie was quiet. She nipped through the pictures, now and then pausing. But another pile disappeared without a moment of recognition. Another pile was brought, this time designated 'security nationals.'
She had a possible, but paused, and then it too went to the discards, though into a separate category of 'almosts.'
But then, finally, there were no more pictures.
'I'm sorry,' she said.
The disappointment in the room was palpable.
'Okay,' Bonson finally said.
'Let's knock off for a while. Julie, why don't you take a break? Maybe a walk, stretch your legs. We'll have to do it the hard way.'
'What does that mean?' she asked.
'Drugs? Torture?'
'No, we'll get you together with a forensic artist. He'll draft a drawing from your instructions. We'll get our computers to run a much wider comparison on a much wider database. Mel, be sure to get the
'almosts' too. Have Mr.
Jefferson factor those in too. That'll get us another bunch of candidates. We've got food. Would you care for some lunch or a nap or something?'
'I'm fine. I think I'd like to check on my daughter.'
She and Bob walked downstairs and found Nikki-asleep. She was stretched across Sally's lap, snoozing gently, pinning Sally with her fragile weight.
'I can't even get up,' said Sally.
'I'll take her.'
'No, that's okay. These child geniuses got the cable running. The remote even works now. It didn't. See.'
She held up the little device and punched a few buttons and the picture flicked across the channels: Lifetime, CNN, Idaho Public TV, HBO, the Discovery Channel, ESPN, CNN Headline News-'My God,' said Julie.
'Oh, my God.'
'What?' Bob said, and from around the house, others looked in, came to check.
'That's him,' said Julie.
'My God, yes, fatter now, healthier, yes, that's him. That's Fitzpatrick!' She was pointing at the television, where a powerful, dynamic man was giving an impromptu news conference in a European city.
'Jesus,' said one of the kids, 'that's Evgeny Pashin, the next president of Russia.'
The second meeting was smaller, more informal. It was after lunch, prepared in an Air Force mess tent set up outside the house.
Surprisingly good, nourishing food, too. More to the point, someone had come up with a nice batch of Disney videos for Nikki, that is, when she got back from a sledding diversion with three state troopers.
Now, Julie and Bob sat upstairs with a much smaller contingent, the inner circle, as it were.
'Julie,' said Bonson, 'we're going to discuss the meaning of this right here, before you and your husband.
That's because I want you on the inside now, not on the outside. I'm drawing the two of you in. You're not civilians.
I want you to feel like you're part of the team. You will, in fact, both be paid as agency consultants, we pay well, you'll see.'
'Fine,' she said.
'We could use the money.'
'Now, I'm not even going to ask you if you're sure. I know you're sure. But I have to say: this guy has been on TV a lot lately. Can you explain why it's only now that you recognize him?'
'Mr. Bonson, have you ever been a mother?'
There was some laughter.
'No,' he admitted.
'Have you ever been the wife to a somewhat melancholy yet incredibly heroic man, particularly as he's feeling his life has been taken from him by some unnecessary publicity and we had to move from one location to another?'
