First Daughter

president.'

'I understand your overriding concern here, sir, but we've had a complication.'

Carson's blue eyes bored into the secretary's. 'What kind of a complication?'

'The men I sent to keep McClure safe were compromised.'

He'd caught the president-elect's full attention.

'Compromised in what way?'

'The POTUS's people gave them orders to terminate.'

A deathly silence overtook them. 'Jack's safe?'

'Yessir, he is.'

'I don't want another incident like that,' Carson said. 'Am I being clear?'

Paull stiffened. He knew a rebuke when he heard one, and this one was well deserved. 'Absolutely, sir.' Somewhere along the line, his careful security net had been breached. He had to find out where with all possible haste.

Carson stepped away, regarded his pale, lined face in the mirror, then turned around. 'Dennis, if the POTUS got on to your men, then he knows. Jack's not the only one in terrible danger. We are, too.'

'Yessir.' Paull nodded. 'That's the goddamned truth of it.'

THIRTY — THREE

IT HAD been a long time since Jack woke up with a splitting headache. He clambered out of bed with the unusual care of a mountain climber with vertigo. Crawling into the shower, he turned on the cold water full-blast so that no one would hear him screaming.

Ten minutes later, when Nina called, he had crawled out of the muck of the sea and had grown a spinal cord. He figured by the time she showed up, he had a chance of being halfway human.

Still, he insisted on driving them over to the All Around Town bakery. The day was cool but sunny, which made a welcome change of pace. But according to AccuWeather, there was another front coming in that wasn't afraid of dumping three inches of rain or something worse on them.

He was in no mood to talk, but soon enough he noticed Nina repeatedly glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Finally, she ventured an opinion on his physical state. 'You look like crap.'

'That's what a week without sleep will do to you.' He eyed her speculatively. She was dressed in a gray flannel suit over a cream-colored cashmere sweater. 'On the other hand, you look as fresh as a plate of sushi.'

'And just as cool.' Nina laughed. 'I'll bet good money you were thinking that.'

'Actually,' Jack said, 'I was thinking about what we'll do if Joachim Tolkan hasn't shown up from his sad trip to Miami Beach. Or, even worse, if the story he fed Oscar was a lie.'

'Since when did you become a glass-half-empty guy?'

'Since last night,' Jack said, more to himself than to her.

'What happened?'

'My ex happened,' Jack said bitterly.

'I'm sorry, Jack.' Nina put a hand briefly over his. 'I once tried to get back with an old boyfriend. All that did was make me realize why we broke up in the first place.'

Wanting to get off the subject of exes, Jack said, 'I grew up around here. A lot of memories, good and bad. Mysteries, too.'

'What kind of mysteries?'

'A double murder up at McMillan Reservoir, for one.'

'It went unsolved?'

Jack nodded. 'Not only that, I remember there was no info at all on who was killed.'

'That is odd,' Nina acknowledged.

Jack turned a corner. 'Then there was Ian Brady.'

'Who was he?'

'No one knew who he was or where he came from. But he had a huge amount of juice-too much, I'd say, for a local drug dealer. He was supplying heroin, God alone knows what else. Other suppliers were caught or killed, but not Brady. No one could lay a finger on him.'

There was a sporty cabernet-colored Mercedes coupe parked in front of the All Around Town bakery, and Jack took this as a good sign. The bell rang as they walked in, and there was Oscar behind the counter.

'Boss just got here,' he said as soon as he saw them enter. 'Wait right there.' He disappeared into the back. A moment later, he returned with a man whose only genetic connection with his father was his olive-gray complexion. He was tall and slim, dapper as his dad, though.

His expression was quizzical, curious, free from his father's dark guile. 'Oscar said you wanted to see me.'

'That's right.'

Nina produced her Homeland Security ID. Jack made the introductions, gave their condolences for his loss.

Joachim Tolkan held out his hand.

Jack hadn't expected this. He didn't want to shake Joachim Tolkan's hand, the son of a murderer, but he saw no way out. The moment he took Joachim's hand, he felt an electric shock travel up his arm. It was as if he'd made contact with Cyril Tolkan from beyond the grave.

'Are you all right, Mr. McClure? You went white there for a moment.'

'I'm fine,' Jack lied.

'We just need a couple of moments of your time, Mr. Tolkan,' Nina said in her best neutral voice.

'No problem.' Joachim Tolkan lifted an arm. 'Why don't we continue this discussion in my office? That way we can all sit down and relax.' He turned to Oscar. 'How about some coffee for our guests?'

As Nina passed Oscar, he handed her a chocolate-chip cookie, along with a wink.

Tolkan led them back through the oven room, hotter than Hades despite the exhaust fans and air- conditioning. To the right was a door through which he took them.

Jack found himself in a surprisingly large, pleasantly furnished office, complete with an upholstered sofa, coffee table, a pair of lamps. A full bathroom was to the right and beside it a short hallway that led to what appeared to be a bedroom.

'I stay here to all hours,' Joachim Tolkan said, noticing Jack's scrutiny. He shrugged. 'Anyway, no point in going back to the house these days. It's become the soon-to-be ex's territory.'

As Tolkan settled himself behind his desk, Oscar arrived with a tray filled with mugs and a carafe of coffee. Oscar slid it onto the low table in front of the sofa and left, closing the door behind him.

'Help yourselves.' When neither Jack nor Nina made a move to the tray, Tolkan said, 'I'm curious. What does the Department of Homeland Security want with me?'

'Were you a member of FASR?' Jack said.

'So far as I know that's not a crime.'

'You dropped out three and a half months ago,' Nina said.

'Again, not a crime.' Tolkan laced his fingers together. 'Where, may I ask, is this going?'

Jack walked slowly around the room, studying everything. 'E-Two.'

Tolkan blinked. 'I beg your pardon?'

'You can,' Jack said, turning to him, 'but it won't do any good.'

Tolkan spread his hands. 'What's an E-Two?'

'Doesn't read the paper, apparently.' Nina, perched on the arm of the sofa, took a tiny bite of her chocolate- chip cookie. 'My, this is good.'

'Listen.' Jack advanced toward the desk. 'We're not in the mood for lies.'

Tolkan shook his head. 'Lies about what?'

Was it Jack's imagination, or was Joachim Tolkan becoming more and more like his late father, Cyril? He