The Hart Senate Office Building
Senator Stevens counted the rings from his cell phone. As per instructions he picked up on the fifth ring. “Yes?”
“The situation is becoming complex,” the scrambled voice said.
“Jesus, now what have you guys gone and fucked up?” the senator glanced across the room to make certain his door was closed. There wasn’t much privacy in the Hart Senate Office Building on Constitution Avenue. Wearily he sat down on the leather sofa, putting his feet on the coffee table.
The voice came alive again. “The contractors we hired to track down our lost package met with an unfortunate accident. We have lost contact.”
“Is this a joke? Are you telling me you’re worse off than when this whole thing started? You people can’t do anything right.”
“Let me remind you, Senator, we’re in this together. Up to our necks. If you start thinking differently you can kiss your political career goodbye. So don’t worry, we’ll find our lost package. At the same time we are proceeding with the investigation of the others from Beirut who might be involved. You can either give us some assistance or stay quiet and let us get on with our work. I understand you Americans have to talk tough in order to feel important but it does get tedious. Besides, before too many more years China will be kicking your ass all over the globe. In the meantime I’m stuck with you, so if you have any brilliant ideas, which I very much doubt, give me a call. Otherwise I’ll let you know when we have both packages…”
Stevens kicked off his shoes. “Who’s the other package?”
“A woman. Delacluse. Nicole Delacluse. She works for the International Herald Tribune as a political journalist. She’s spent most of her career in Europe although she’s American by birth.”
“Track her down. All her friends and relatives as well.” Stevens glanced at his Rolex. In an hour he was scheduled to meet with Dr. Finch, director of the CIA. “Better yet I’ll get my spooks to check on this Delacluse woman. They owe me some big favors. I’ll let you know if I find out anything. And try not to make things worse.”
Chapter Ten
Georgetown
“You’re late.” Nicole watched her father come through the door and hang his overcoat on a hook.
“Not late, just giving you two a little time to get acquainted. Any tea left?” Elijah rubbed his hands together. “It’s cold out there. Actually, I could do with a little nightcap. Care to join me, Doctor?”
Matt sat at the kitchen table drinking hot tea with Nicole. Their love making, born of fright and survival, had been both passionate and cathartic.
It’s starting. “Care to join me, Doctor?” Matt repeated the phrase loudly. “You can’t believe how many times I’ve heard that.”
“And what did you usually reply?” Eli asked, glancing at Nicole. She looked away.
“Make mine a double Scotch, neat.” The words sprang so easily to his lips. This time, however, he hesitated. An old Robert Frost poem, a favorite of his mother’s, floated into his mind: Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I took the one least traveled by, and that has made all the difference in the world.
Matt held up his tea mug. “This’ll do fine.”
“Suit yourself. I’ve got some great single malt Speyside scotch. A high-quality distillery called Glenrothes. It’s 1987 vintage scotch.” He moved toward a cupboard where he kept his special stash.
Matt’s gaze followed hungrily. Elijah reached deep inside a cabinet and pulled out the pinch bottle of amber nectar.
Nicole headed out of the kitchen. “It’s your life. What’s left of it.”
“Seriously. I’ll take a rain check, Eli. I’m still not feeling quite right after the surgery and drugs.” Matt finished his tea. “In fact, I think I’ll turn in. Thanks for helping me out. I’m glad I didn’t blow up.”
“Me too, Dr. Richards. Any friend of Nicole’s is a friend of mine.” Elijah Tajikian poured himself a generous two fingers of scotch. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do next? They’ll keep coming after you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I really don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.”
“Listen, I’ve worked with these types for too many years. I know how they think and move. To them you’re a dangerous and uncontrollable element. You know too much. They won’t rest until they eliminate you.”
Matt sat back down at the kitchen table. “What are you saying?”
Elijah gave a weary smile. “Two things really. Personally, I’m going to sleep with one eye open tonight. But you need to realize you’re the only one who can stop them. You’re the one person who has half a chance of finding this terrorist cell and exposing it. And you may be able to expose the bastards who stole your face as well.”
Matt’s hands began to shake. God I need a drink. “You’re right. I can’t help thinking that I might be able to save the life of the President-does that sound absurd?”
“It does. But in this case it’s probably accurate.” Elijah sat down across the table from Matt and swirled the warm, soothing nectar in his glass. “Let me give you some advice. The only way you’ll think straight is to forget about the consequences. Forget someone might be trying to kill you. Dwell on that stuff and it’ll interfere with any rational thought. It’s like playing soccer. If your mind is cluttered up you won’t perform at your peak. The great Brazilian star, Pele, once said, ‘A full mind means an empty net’. You’ve got to treat this as a puzzle and simply go about solving it. Forget about everything else.”
Nicole came back into the kitchen. “So if this were just a simple exercise to find your old Beirut friends what’s the first thing you would do?” she asked, sitting down at the table.
“Well, I’d probably visit Dr. Martin Thomas. He was our faculty advisor at AUB. His job was to make certain everyone behaved and came back in one piece. He got to know all of us pretty well. And funny enough, I just saw him before…” Matt touched his face. “He hosted the reception for the new personal physician to the President.”
Elijah finished his scotch. “So why not drop in on him? See if you can learn something useful about your fellow students at AUB.”
Nicole nodded. “You can review your Beirut diary. I’ll drive you over to the National Institutes of Health. I’ll call up first thing in the morning; make an appointment under my name. As a reporter I can almost always con my way into an interview.”
Matt felt suddenly uncomfortable. “Yeah. Good idea. But for now I think I’ll turn in.”
When the door closed upstairs, Elijah Tajikian turned to his daughter. “That man’s got problems,” he said, pouring another two fingers of scotch. “And I don’t just mean his face transplant or the people who are after him. He’s got a deeper problem. Something’s eating at him. It’s in his eyes. There’s incredible talent yet it seems encased in an unnatural amount of insecurity and fear. Like he’s running away from something.” The old man shrugged, “But I like him. He’s solid at the core, just frayed at the edges.”
“Can we keep him alive?”
Elijah sipped the scotch. “Let’s hope so.”
Nicole moved to where her father was sitting and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I know I haven’t been the greatest daughter but I’d appreciate it if you could help Matt. He has no idea what he’s caught up in. And he’s totally inexperienced and naive.”
“In the ugly side of politics perhaps. But his love life seems to be on target.”
Nicole smiled. “And how would you know?”
Her father raised his eyebrows.
“Okay. So I like him. Don’t ask why because I don’t know. Maybe he’s just quirky enough to be the man for me.” She gave her father a kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll do some checking around,” Elijah said. “Talk to some old spooks. See if I can’t find out something. But
