'Sir, I am on your side, their side. I can help. The more leads I get, the more credibility I have, the more favorable press the senator gets. Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?'
'Yep,' he said.
She frowned. She reached into the Palm Pilot carrying case and handed him a business card. 'When you feel like talking, call me first.'
He tucked the card in his shirt pocket. He said nothing, though he did smile politely.
Kat returned then and said that the news had reached the senator right after he left.
'How did he hear about it?' Rodgers asked.
'From Nightline' she replied. 'They wanted him to know that they were going to go easy on the questions about Wilson because of this.'
Lucy got up to give Kat the seat. 'Well, I'm going to get online and coin a name for our serial killer before someone else does. It will make an incredible book title one day.'
The reporter left while Rodgers and Kat finished their coffee.
'Well, that was a strange end to a very unusual day.'
'Strange in what way?'
'It started with me denying that Op-Center would ever fake evidence to get publicity and ended with me sitting here wondering if a reporter would kill people to get a book deal.'
The woman laughed. 'Lucy is aggressive. But I don't think she's a killer.'
'Was she at the party last night?'
'Yes,' Kat said. 'That was why she came over to me at the bar. To guarantee continued terrific coverage of the USF for continued A-list status.'
'Will you give it to her?'
'I said I'd talk to the senator,' Kat said. 'But I'll probably give it to her. Otherwise, she might become homicidal.'
Kat insisted on picking up the tab, after which Rodgers walked her to her car. There was no sexual tension, which was fine with him. It had been a long day. He was looking forward to catching Nightline and going to bed.
And for the first time in his life, General Mike Rodgers realized how utterly, sadly accurate the maxim about old soldiers truly was.
NINETEEN
Washington, D.C. Monday, 10:55 p.m.
Darrell McCaskey was sitting in bed, reading and waiting for Maria to finish taking a shower. His wife had spent most of the day with Ed March, helping him investigate the Malaysian connection. March had taken her to dinner to thank her. McCaskey had been checking on Orr party guests and had been unable to join them.
Maria had just entered the bedroom when the phone beeped. It was Dr.
Minnie Hennepin.
'The police are bringing in another apparent hotel homicide,' she told him. 'They found the same kind of puncture wound as Mr. Wilson.'
'Who was it?' McCaskey asked as he put his book on the night table. He reached for the TV remote control and put on the local news.
'A Southern businessman. That's all I heard.'
'Do the police have any information about the killer?'
