phone he always carried, Joe dialed another number. “Hey, it’s me. Just left Senator Summers’s house in Bethesda. I think Kane is about to take him out. You better start rolling. I’m going to forward a recording of a conversation between the senator and Gerrit. Keep it in a safe place. The puzzle’s starting to come together.”
Gerrit shot him an incredulous look. “Who was that?”
Joe replaced the phone and stared out ahead of them. “One of the good guys. Someday, I’m afraid, you’re going to meet him face-to-face.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
Gerrit was met with silence, his uncle motionless, staring out into the blackness ahead.
Chapter 36
Senator Summers finished his drink. Carefully, as if his glass were made of eggshells, he set it down on the table next to him, a trembling hand shaking ice cubes like a gambler rolling dice in a cup.
He flinched when the front door slammed open. Intruders pounded inside, boots heavy on hardwood floors, footsteps echoing throughout the house. Richard Kane emerged from the darkness like an evil apparition, a spirit made of flesh and blood.
“John, you betrayed us.” Fury underscored every word.
John’s voice, unlike his hands, came across strong, as if he was speaking on the floor of the senate. “We’re all traitors, Richard. You, me…all of us.”
Richard approached with a semi-auto in his right hand. He knelt down at eye level with John, arms crossed, weapon pointed upward. “Oh, Senator. How I wished you had stayed strong. I wanted us to finish together. But now…?” Richard shook his head. “Now, I must travel alone.”
“Just make it quick,” John said, his voice now a whisper. “Like you did for my daughter.”
“In good time, my friend. In good time. My people have to check out your house. Make sure we have some… privacy.”
Collette emerged from the shadows, standing just behind the senator. Richard glanced up. “Did you find anything?”
She drew closer and leaned over, huskily whispering into the senator’s left ear, loud enough for Richard to hear. “I found this in his bedroom, Richard.” She held up a small revolver with a gloved hand as she ran a finger through Summers’s hair. “Hardly big enough to hurt anyone.”
She glanced up as Richard silently nodded.
Quickly, she reached down and grasped the senator’s right hand around the butt of the weapon. Summers began to resist. With her left hand, Collette drove two fingers deep behind the senator’s collarbone causing him to scream in pain and loosen his grip on the gun. She yanked up the gun and shoved it toward his temple, forced his fingers into the trigger well, and squeezed. A blast erupted from the barrel.
Summers slumped in the chair. Dead.
Collette looked up at Richard, her face splattered with blood, eyes gleaming. “I believe a vacancy just opened up in the senate, monsieur.”
Mirthlessly, he laughed. “And I have just the candidate to fill his shoes. Now, let’s get out of here.”
Emergency lights from patrol cars and yellow-flashing lamps attached to street barricades filled the night with eerie excitement. Yellow crime-scene tape created an inner and outer perimeter as police and FBI vehicles clogged the streets. A few of the lucky ones were able to drive past the outer line and park in front of the senator’s residence.
He drove up to the first barrier, stopping to allow a uniformed officer to peer inside. He patiently held up his identification and badge, waiting for the officer to use his flashlight for illumination.
The officer peered inside the car. “Beck Malloy. FBI, huh?”
Beck nodded, trying to shield his eyes from the flashlight’s angry glare.
The officer straightened. “Let me just get you to sign in on this crime log.”
Beck shook his head. “Call your boss. Have him speak to the agent running this investigation. Give him my name.”
The officer shot him a puzzled look, backing away a few feet while talking into a mike clipped to his shirt collar. He gave someone Beck’s name and waited for a reply. “Huh, dark wavy hair, brown eyes, about two hundred pounds, in his forties, my guess.” The officer shifted back and forth on his feet, waiting for a reply, then cocked his head, apparently listening to someone through his earpiece. The police officer looked back at Beck, eyes wide. “Yes, sir.”
Flashing the light back at Beck, the officer approached. “You can go ahead, Agent Malloy. I guess you’re not required to sign in. Really weird. It’s like they don’t want a record of you. Never heard anything like that in all my years.”
Beck nodded. “Appreciate that you checked it out, Officer.” He pulled away and drove down the street until he came to an FBI vehicle-a converted RV-size bus-being used as a command post.
He piled out of the car and walked to a side door of the command post. He reached up and flung it open. A large man in a blue FBI Windbreaker stood just inside. The man was on the telephone. “I don’t care who they are. Keep all media a block away. If I catch any of them inside my crime scene, I will have you transferred to the Dakotas…in the middle of winter. Forever.” He slammed the phone down. Other phones jangled as men and women, wearing identical Windbreakers, jostled around inside as they sought a place to work. The irritated agent spotted Beck standing in the doorway. “Beck Malloy? Let’s step outside for a moment.”
Beck held the door open as the other man pounded down the stairs, landing on the asphalt so hard Beck thought he felt the pavement shake. “Just got word of this, Ray. Came as quick as I could.”
“Just got word?” Ray looked at him with skepticism. “My people say you’re the one who alerted the Bureau about this fiasco. Give me a break, Beck. How did you know about this?” The man pointed a finger toward the house. “You can’t believe the kind of storm that’s brewing over this. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry from D.C. is on the phone, trying to get information. Help me out here.”
Beck looked at the house. “An informant deep undercover gave me a heads-up. I called PD units to check it out. How’d they do it?”
“They?” Ray looked incredulous.
Beck grimaced. My big mouth. He knew where this was going. Joe O’Rourke had called it in minutes before Richard and his people hit the place. He did not mention this fact to the police.
Ray continued to harangue him. “There was more than one? How in the name of everything that’s holy did you pull that out of the hat? Is this coming from some of your spook contacts? Counterintelligence? Don’t tell me we’re dealing with terrorists.”
The words just spilled out as Beck watched the man come unglued. “Let’s just stick with the facts here, Ray. Tell me what you’ve found out.”
Irritated, Ray rubbed his jaw, eyes narrowing. “Okay. Here’re the facts. Victim found in his den, sprawled out in a recliner. No one else at home when officers arrived. Front door wide open. A single tap to the right temple from an S amp;W revolver, five-shot Model 638, registered to the senator. Found one spent. 38 caliber casing in chamber and four live rounds.”
“Senator’s right handed?”
“My guess. Doubt he did it, though, based upon what you just told me. So you going to tell me what you know?”
Beck shook his head. “Can’t, Ray. I’m sorry. Right now, this must remain classified. Dispatch gave the Bureau a call, right?” He didn’t give Ray a chance to answer. “Cops get here. Find the senator dead. So here we are.”
Ray nodded, remaining silent, giving off a look that told Beck the man knew something important.
“What else did you find out, Ray? A witness?”
Almost gleefully, the agent pulled out a clear evidence bag from his pocket. Inside, Beck saw a small electronic device.
“Wiretaps?”
“Federal wiretaps. At least they were federal once upon a time. Stolen from a shipment to one of our no-
