He greeted them with a quizzical smile. He had thick blond hair that fell over his forehead, making him seem boyish. His wide-apart, clear eyes took them in with a cool precision that seemed oddly neutral to Moira.
— Ladies, he said, — what can I do for you? Marty said it was urgent. He meant the attendant.
— It is urgent, Hart said. -Is there somewhere private we can talk?
Bamber‘s expression sobered. -Are you cops?
— What if we are?
He shrugged. -I‘d be more curious than I am now.
Hart flashed her credentials, which sent his eyebrows up.
— Do you suspect me of passing secrets to the enemy?
— Which enemy? Moira said.
He laughed. -I like you, he said. -What‘s your name?
— Moira Trevor.
— Uh-oh. At once, Bamber‘s expression grew dark. -I was warned about you.
— Warned? Moira said. -By whom? But she thought she already knew.
— A man named Noah Petersen.
Moira recalled Noah taking Jay Weston‘s cell phone from her at the scene of the killing. It was a sure bet that‘s how he found Bamber.
— He said-
— His real name‘s Perlis, Moira interrupted. -Noah Perlis. You shouldn‘t trust anything he told you.
— He said you‘d say that.
Moira laughed bitterly. Hart said, — A private place, Mr. Bamber. Please.
He nodded and walked them to an unused office. They went in and he closed the door. When they were all seated, Hart said, — I‘m afraid we have some bad news. Steve Stevenson is dead.
Bamber looked stricken. -What?
Hart continued: — Did Mr. Peter-Perlis tell you that?
Bamber shook his head. He put the smaller towel around his shoulders as if he‘d suddenly grown cold. Moira couldn‘t blame him.
— My God. He shook his head in disbelief, then he looked at them in a kind of pleading way. -It must be a mistake of some kind, one of those idiotic bureaucratic snafus Steve was always complaining about.
— I‘m afraid not, Hart said.
— Noah-one of Mr. Perlis‘s people-killed your friend, making it look like an accident, Moira said in a rush of emotion. Ignoring Hart‘s warning glare, she continued: — Mr. Perlis is a dangerous man working for a dangerous organization.
— I- Bamber ran a hand distractedly through his hair. -Shit, I don‘t know what to believe. He looked from one of them to the other. -Can I see Steve‘s body?
Hart nodded. -That can be arranged, as soon as we‘re through here.
— Ah. Bamber gave her a rueful smile. -Like a reward, is that it? Hart said nothing.
He nodded in capitulation. -Okay, how can I help you?
— I don‘t know if you can, Hart said with a significant glance at Moira.
— Because if you could, Mr. Perlis wouldn‘t have left you alive.
For the first time Bamber looked truly alarmed. -What the hell is this?
he said with understandable indignation. -Steve and I have been close friends since college, that‘s it.
Ever since Bamber had appeared Moira had been wondering about this aging jock‘s decades-long friendship with Steve Stevenson, a man who didn‘t know a softball from a football and, furthermore, didn‘t care. Now something Bamber just said caused a number of small anomalies to click into place.
— I think there‘s another reason Noah felt confident in leaving you with a warning, Mr. Bamber, she said, — am I right?
Bamber frowned. -I don‘t know what you‘re talking about.
— What would frighten you so much that Noah could be assured that you wouldn‘t talk?
He stood up abruptly. -I‘ve had just about enough of this badgering.
— Sit back down, Mr. Bamber, Hart said.
— You and Undersecretary Stevenson were more than roommates at college,
Moira pressed on. -Just as you were more than good friends. Isn‘t that right?
Bamber sat down as if all the strength had gone out of his legs. -I want protection from Noah and his people.
— You have it, Hart said.
He looked at her steadily. -I‘m not kidding.
Pulling out her cell, she punched in a number. -Tommy, she said into the phone, — I need a security detail in
