Alec shook himself, said, “Yes, I’ll take you up.”
“Perhaps one of your staff can show me, if you’d like to have a moment to yourself, sir.”
Alec nodded, and Zach opened the door, saw the same woman who had escorted him up, waiting a discreet distance away. He hesitated at the door, turned, saw the ambassador staring out the window. Zach hated to disturb his thoughts, but figured now was better than later. “Was there anything she discussed with you over the phone the last few weeks? Anything unusual? Maybe something she sent home?”
“I was so busy. We didn’t speak but once or twice a week, and it was she, asking about my health…”
When nothing more was forthcoming, Zach let himself out and started down the hallway, the closed door and his footsteps doing little to muffle the strangled sobs of a grieving father.
Leonardo Adami had come to the decision that watching the ambassador’s residence was a waste of time. He was tired of the waiting, even more tired with sharing a car with Alonzo, and was half tempted to switch places with Benito, who watched the ambassador’s residence through his binoculars from the rooftop of one of the nearby houses. In fact, he’d picked up his phone to make the call when Benito announced that Griffin had arrived at the ambassador’s. That was not something they’d anticipated when they’d started watching the place. The three of them had been there all afternoon, as they had been for the last two weeks, waiting to see if any out-of-the- ordinary deliveries were made. None of them had expected Griffin to walk into the midst of their surveillance, and of course now they had to wonder if he knew what they were waiting for, and perhaps had come looking for it himself. This long, they had to wonder if it was going to arrive at all, but where else would the girl have sent it?
“You’re sure that’s Griffin?” he asked Benito once again. After all, Benito was several houses away on a rooftop.
“Positive. He went in almost ten minutes ago, and hasn’t come out yet. Maybe you should call the boss.”
The last thing Leonardo wanted to do was call his cousin and give the impression that he couldn’t handle this on his own. Adami did not like weak links. Instead, Leonardo thought about the other reasons why Griffin might be there. “They must have her identified. He’s come to make the death notification.”
“Now what?” Benito asked.
“You’re sure Griffin’s alone?”
“Positive.”
“Let us know the moment he leaves,” Leonardo said into the phone. “We’re going to follow him. When he stops, we’ll take care of him there. If we’re lucky, he’ll lead us to his safe house. Adami will no doubt be extra grateful if we eliminate Griffin as well as those bastards he is working with.”
Carillo waited until he saw the congressman leave the building, then walk toward a waiting car, before he approached. While he was here in D.C. on a legitimate case that Doc Schermer had dug up for him, his contact with the congressman was unofficial, and he needed to step lightly.
“Congressman Burnett?”
The man looked up, appearing mildly annoyed at being stopped. “Yes?”
Carillo held up his credentials. “Special Agent Carillo, FBI. You have a few moments?”
“I’m in a-What is this about?”
“Alessandra Harden.”
The congressman took a deep breath, this time looking more than annoyed. “I’ve answered these questions ad nauseam. Someone is trying to discredit me. There was no affair, for God’s sake, and I didn’t divulge anything about the committee. Isn’t it time you let this thing go?”
He started to walk away, and Carillo decided a different tack was needed. Maybe a subject not quite so threatening as an affair with a girl now dead, and he thought about what Sydney had told him on her most recent call, thinking this kid might have contacted the congressman. That, she thought, might give them a clue as to why Alessandra was murdered.
“Actually, I’m interested in learning about a student in a class that she was in. A friend of hers who is missing,” he said.
“Fine,” the congressman said. “You don’t mind if we talk in the car? I’d rather my business not be overheard so I can read about it in the paper the next morning.”
Carillo glanced into the interior of the Town Car, saw the driver, and no one else. “Not a problem.”
The congressman got into the backseat, and Carillo followed, closing the door, shutting out the noise from the street beyond.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked.
“I need a cup of coffee.”
The driver nodded, and the moment the car took off, the congressman leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. He looked haggard, his brown hair flecked with gray, his skin covered with fine lines around his eyes and mouth. This was not the man who’d graced the posters at election time, the doctored pictures that took ten years off his face. This was the man worried about scandal and career-ruining photos plastered all over the nation’s newspapers.
“Did you ever speak to a student named Xavier Caldwell?”
“I believe that was his name. This kid was a nutcase. He said he was a friend of Alessandra’s, and that’s the only reason I agreed to talk to him. He tried to say that the photo of she and I, that the government leaked it to discredit me. A government conspiracy.”
“Any truth to that?”
“No doubt in my mind that it was done on purpose, and to discredit me. But I think he’s out there if he thinks my own government did it as part of a national conspiracy. Especially when he added that it was all due to the government’s involvement in Propaganda Due.”
“Which would be what?”
“You may have heard of it under the name P2. A Freemason lodge in Italy, shut down in the eighties, after it nearly toppled the Italian government and crippled the Vatican bank. He said he had proof that they were active again, this time in our country, and there would be biological warfare involved.”
“Okay. So he was out there. About Alessandra?”
“What about her?” the congressman asked, his voice short. “Regardless of what appeared in the paper, there’s nothing to tell.”
“Why did it appear?”
“The photo in question? Someone got a lucky shot, figured they could pin a quote beneath it, and somehow it made its way to a real newspaper. But when you think about it, is it any different from what you see on the cover of any supermarket tabloid? Make up crap and sell a story?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“
“You realize she’s dead?”
“Dead?” His jaw dropped, and the blood drained from his face. One couldn’t fake that sort of reaction. “How?”
“Murdered.”
“Oh my God.” The congressman closed his eyes a moment, took a deep breath. When he looked up again, he said, “Stop the car, Thomas. I need some air.”
“Yes, sir.” The driver made a right turn, then pulled over, allowing them to exit the car. “Where would you like me to pick you up?”
“I’ll walk from here. I’ll call if I need you later today.”
The car drove off, and Burnett stood there, his hands shoved in his pockets, staring after the car. After several seconds, he turned to Carillo. “I’m sorry, I really am, but nothing happened between us. I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re asking. For God’s sake, I regret the day I agreed to be on that committee.”
“What committee?”
“Atlas. That’s the reason our photo appeared in the paper. She had learned from her father that I was on the committee, and she wanted to know if we were looking into the death of the UVA professor, that microbiologist who killed herself. I sure as hell wasn’t about to admit to her it wasn’t a suicide. I had to say it was investigated thoroughly, but they were friends and she wanted to know if I could have it reopened. Nothing more, I assure you.
