“That’s the biggest crock of shit…”
“Listen to him!” Nicole interjected.
“I escaped from the clinic where I was held prisoner and am trying to find out who these people are. They have tried to kill me twice already. I have to find out why.” Matt stood up. “Look, Todd. We didn’t always see eye to eye during college, but we trusted each other once. And I’m asking you to trust me again.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m afraid they may try to eliminate those who were at AUB with me that year. And that means you might be in danger as well.” Matt sat down again. He doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. Matt plunged in again. “Look, don’t you think the deaths of both me and Brian are a strange coincidence in timing? Well, I’ve got worse news. Dr. Thomas died last night of an apparent heart attack just a few hours after Nicole and I visited with him. Someone is systematically eliminating all the people we went to Beirut with.”
“Okay, okay-if you really are Matt Richards, then why don’t you just go to the FBI? Why talk to me under false pretenses?” He reached for his water glass. His hand trembled.
“Because we have reason to believe someone high up in the federal government might be involved,” Nicole said.
Matt debated with himself. One last chance. “Todd, you saw the television pictures of the assassination attempt on the President. Did you happen to look closely at the face of the bomber?”
“Of course, they only showed it a thousand times. Why do you ask?”
“You tell me.”
“Well, I did think for a second that she resembled Bedouina…but it couldn’t have been. What are you driving at?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve been thinking this over and over in my mind for years, all with no answers – except one.”
“Which is?”
“The only person I actually saw killed that night at the restaurant in Beirut was Samir.”
Todd Cummings went white. “You are Matt Richards.”
Matt lost it, nerves snapping. “Jesus Christ, Toad! I thought we were past that…” What an asshole.
“Yeah, well you expect too much, like always. You come in here unrecognizable, with a reporter, notebooks, and lies. I need time.”
“I need time too. But I haven’t got much. They’re trying to kill me!” Matt’s sweeping arm knocked his glass on the floor. They froze as the waiter opened the door.
“No problem, Charles. Close the door please.” Cummings pushed back his chair and studied Matt and Nicole. “So what you are saying is that Maha and Bedouina may not have died that night. Then where did they go?”
“I don’t know but it was Bedouina who…”
“You don’t know that. It may have been someone who looked like her.”
“I feel it. It was her.”
“Look, Matt. You were in love with a beautiful redheaded Jordanian, deeply in love.” Cummings glanced at Nicole. She nodded for him to continue. “The human mind is pretty complicated. I can understand your yearning for Maha to be alive but it’s just a romantic delusion. And there’s no evidence about either Maha or Bedouina.” Cummings stood up. “There’s nothing I can do for you. I want you both to leave right this moment. This is sickening.”
“You think losing my face isn’t sickening?”
Todd Cummings glared at Matt. “I don’t doubt that something is going on, something violent and ugly. But take a look around you. I’m a senior officer here. I’m not putting my firm at risk, jeopardizing my career, because of a college acquaintance I knew over thirty years ago.” He paused. “Sorry, you’re on your own. Now get out.”
Nicole begged. “Please Mr. Cummings, we need…”
“I’ll show you both to the express elevator. If you’re still in the building after five minutes I’ll call security. They’re armed.”
At the elevator, Matt stared at his old friend. “You can’t just walk away from this, Toad.”
“Just watch me.”
As the elevator door closed, Matt held the door open for a few moments. “Hey, Toad? You always were number one.” Matt extended his middle finger. “Watch your back old friend.” The door hissed shut.
Opening his office door, Todd Cummings growled to his secretary. “No calls.”
“Was lunch satisfactory, Mr. Cummings?”
“Fine. I need some quiet time to think about the upcoming director’s meeting.” He smiled coldly. “Hold back the hordes for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The ice crackled as he poured straight bourbon and sat behind his desk. He swung his leather chair to face the view over the river. Cummings had risen high. He worked hard. He had talent, patience, and could make ruthless decisions when required. He was a professional problem solver and about to put those skills to work once more.
“What is that bastard up to?” he said, swirling the bourbon in the glass. “Suppose there is a terrorist cell operating in the U.S. planning to kill the President?”
Cummings stood up. He always thought best by talking out loud. “Now if there is a terrorist plot on the life of the President… Trace the repercussions… Item 1: if this cell tries to kill Pierce, even if they miss, almost certainly the U.S. would demand full retaliation. Item 2: If war breaks out, Monument Oil and Gas and its delicate negotiations for oil concessions in the Middle East could be ruined. Shit! We need peace, not war if we are to secure those oil reserves for ourselves. But with that deranged asshole Richards running around…”
He paused by the television, absently tuning it to CNN. He scanned the running ticker tape. Then it came…
“We’re interrupting this portion of Inside Asia with a special late-breaking headline news report from Washington, D.C. Metropolitan police have now confirmed they are looking for a possible suspect in the death late last night of Dr. Martin J. Thomas, retired director of the National Institutes of Health.
The suspect, known by the FBI and CIA as an international assassin was identified by both Dr. Thomas’s personal butler and Senator Mason Stevens, who had had dinner with Dr. Thomas earlier in the evening. According to the butler the suspect was accompanied by a woman whom authorities have identified as Nicole Delacluse, formerly an investigative journalist for the International Herald Tribune. Both Senator Stevens and the butler gave identical descriptions. The two are wanted for questioning and are believed to be somewhere in the greater metropolitan D.C. area.”
A full-face photograph flashed up on the screen. “The male suspect seen here in this CIA photo may be armed and should be considered extremely dangerous.” Todd Cummings leaned forward and stared at the image of the man he’d just had lunch with.
“Matt, you sorry sonofabitch. You’re in a heap of trouble. And it’s time to make that phone call.” He returned to his desk.
Matt jumped at the sound of Nicole’s cell phone chirping inside her purse. “Yes? Oh, Hi Dad. We’re driving back to the Pittsburgh airport. What’s up?” Her face turned ashen. “Okay, we’ll call you from a service area in about an hour. Of course we will be careful.”
Nicole turned to Matt. “Well, we’re famous now. CNN has just shown our photos on Headline News. We’ve been named as possible suspects in the death of Dr. Thomas. And to top it off the CIA has identified you as an international assassin, armed and dangerous. Dad suggests we drive back to Washington instead of fly, ditch the rental car in the suburbs and take the Metro back to his safe house.” They were both deep in thought as the rental car continued down the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
“Maybe it’s time we turned ourselves in, Matt, and told them the truth? Besides, they didn’t alter your fingerprints did they? You can still convince them you’re really Matthew Richards. They’ve got to believe you.”
“Just how long do you think we’ll live if I do that?” Matt replied. He pulled the car into a service area. “There’s another way to do this. Remember Cummings mentioned Anne-Marie Khoury?”
