He smiled and shook his head. He often told her how perceptive and intelligent she was. Not many men had ever said that to Sara Rosen -- practically none, in fact. Her intelligence scared most men. Even worse, she was verbal. So men usually needed to keep her down, to put her down constantly, to belittle anything she said that they we road ahead.
He could get like this sometimes; but then again, so could she.
Sara the worrier. Sara the drudge.
They both understood and mostly accepted the good and the bad points about each other. The game of Jack and Jill was getting much tougher now for both of them. Every move was chancy and fraught with danger. They could be caught before the mission was completed. The hunters were all over the place.
One of the largest manhunts in history was under way. Not only in Washington, D.C., but everywhere around the world.
“I was just thinking about the game and how it's going, an honest evaluation. I was considering- a game inside our game,” Sam finally said. “Something more sophisticated. Completely unexpected by our trackers.”
Sara watched him detaching from his reverie, coming away from it, coming back to her.
“Yes, I could see that you were somewhere other than here on the beltway with me and all of these commuters. That much was pretty obvious.”
Sam grinned. “Sorry. You probably smelled the wood burning, too.” He was incredibly self-effacing -- something else she enjoyed about him. He didn't seem to realize that he was something special; or if he did, he kept it to himself. God, it was so easy when they were together, so hard when they were apart.
Sara wondered how she had survived before she met Sam. The answer was, Basically, she hadn't. She had been alive, but she didn't have a life. Now, she did.
“You're concerned about the progress of the game from here on, the exact sequence,” she said. “It's furrowed your brow. Poor dear Sam. What's your idea?”
He smiled and shook his head. He often told her how perceptive and intelligent she was. Not many men had ever said that to Sara Rosen -- practically none, in fact. Her intelligence scared most men. Even worse, she was verbal. So men usually needed to keep her down, to put her down constantly, to belittle anything she said that they weren't entirely one hundred percent comfortable with.
Sam wasn't that way. He seemed to understand exactly what she needed. Is that part of the game, too? she wondered. Part of his game?
“There's going to be tremendous heat from the police and FBI coming our way soon,” he said, staring straight ahead at the gray ribbons of roadway. “What's gone before was nothing, Sara, absolutely nothing. The manhunt will increase exponentially from here on. They want to capture us badly. The FBI is assembling the best team possible, and make no mistake, it will be an impressive group. Sooner or later, they'll find something on us. It's inevitable that they will.”
Sara nodded in agreement. Still, he had frightened her. “I know that. i'm ready for it; at least, think I am. You have an idea how to deal with this blistering heat that's coming our way?”
'Yes, I think I do. It's something I've been thinking about for a while, but I believe I've solved it. Let me try this one out on you.
Tell me what you think.'
See? He did want her opinions. Always. He was so different from the others.
He looked over at her, made eye contact. 'It's so simple, really.
We need perfect alibis. I have an idea how to accomplish that. It involves a slight change in our game plan, but I think it's worth it.'
She tried to keep the concern out of her voice. “What kind of change? You don't want to go after the target we already agreed on?”
“I want to change the next target, yes, but I want to change something else as well. I want to get someone else to do the next kill. That way, we'll both have airtight alibis. I think it's a powerful twist. I think it could be the clincher for us. If anyone is onto either of us, this will throw them off completely.”
They were coming down Wisconsin Avenue and into Washington. The city looked like aJ. M. W. Turner painting, Sara decided. Hazy light, caught just right. 'I like your thinking a lot.
It's a good plan. Who would you get?' she asked.
“I've already made a contact,” Sam said. “I think I have the perfect person for this little twist. He thinks the way we do, believes in the cause. He happens to be right here in Washington.”
A SECRET SERVICE AGENT named James McLean, one of Jay Grayer's lieutenants, walked me around the White House. More than a million visitors come here every year, but this was the show none of them got. This was the real deal.
Instead of the usual tour of Library, East, Blue, Green, and Red Rooms, I got to see the private family quarters on the second and third floors. I requested a viewing of the President's offices in the West Wing, as well as Vice President Mahoney's in the Executive Office Building.
As the two of us wandered through the impressive Center Hall, with its bright yellow color scheme, I half expected either “Ruffles and Flourishes” or “Hail to the Chief” to suddenly ring out.
Agent McLean was filling me in on details about security at the White House. The grounds were covered by audio and pressure sensors, electronic eyes, and infrared. A SWAT team was on the roof at all times now. Helicopters were less than two and a half minutes away. Somehow, I wasn't comforted by the tight security
“What do you think of all this?” McLean asked as he led me into the Cabinet Room. It was dominated by serious-looking leather chairs, each bearing a brass plaque with the cabinet member's title. A very impressive place to visit.
“What I'm thinking is that every person working here has to be checked out,” I said.
