more deep drags and frowned. “I’m not scared of these terrorists.
I’m worried about something else. We’ve got another problem, and it’s not good.
Lortch knows about the job we did on Frank Moore. He told me he knows who was involved, and if I don’t back off and listen to him, he’ll tell the FBI.” Garret stood up and started pacing. “When it rains, it pours. It’s not like we don’t already have enough problems, and now we’ve got this to deal with.” Nance watched Garret intently and kept his outward composure. “Did he mention my name?” without looking at Nance, Garret paused and said, “Yes.”
“Did he mention any other names?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?” Garret looked at Nance briefly and then looked at a painting on the wall.
“He mentioned Arthur’s.” Nance felt a sharp pain shoot through his temples. “He mentioned Arthur?” Garret reluctantly nodded his head.
“I have no idea how he found out. I didn’t talk to anyone about it.”
Nance’s demeanor remained placid, but inside he was boiling. Without having to think very hard he knew exactly how Lortch had found out. He or one of his people must have overheard Stu talking to God-knows-who about their little blackmail operation.
“Arthur will not be happy about this.
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I’m sure he will want to talk to you at length. Clear your schedule for tomorrow evening. He wants to talk to us about something else, and it can’t wait. I’ll arrange for some discreet transportation.”
THE MOON WAS SHOWING ONLY A SLIVER OF light AS IT sat SUSPENDED
above the tall pines.
The four-door Crown Victoria approached the main gate of Camp David, and the two occupants in the backseat ducked down. The electric gate slid open, and the sedan accelerated past a mob of reporters kept at bay by a squad of Marines with M16s cradled across their chests. The pack of reporters and cameramen pushed each other to try and get a glimpse of who was in the car. The sedan continued down the road and around the first turn, where it slowed. Two identical Crown Victorias pulled off the shoulder and took up positions in front of and behind the car carrying the national security adviser and the
President’s chief of staff. Saturday’s budget summit at Camp David had been a mixed success.
Garret had come up with some accounting gimmicks that would make the budget deficit look smaller than it really was. This would enable the political leadership to say they had cut some spending, without actually making the tough choices. Their hope was that it would pacify the assassins and give the FBI some time to catch the killers. Mike
Nance’s doubts regarding the stability of the new coalition were already proving true.
Senator Olson had balked on the deal, telling the President he would have no part in misleading the American people.
Olson argued that real cuts had to be made, or he was out. The silver-haired Senator from Minnesota told the President he would stay quiet for one week, and if Garret was still playing his accounting games, he would expose the new budget cuts for what they were-a sham.
Nance and Garret spent most of the fifty-minute drive talking in hushed whispers.
The Maryland country roads they traveled on were dark, and traffic was light. When they reached Arthur’s estate, the lead and trailing sedans pulled off to the side, and the one carrying Nance and Garret approached the large wrought-iron gate. Two powerful floodlights illuminated the entrance to the estate. A large man dressed in a tactical jumpsuit and carrying an Uzi stepped out of the guardhouse and approached the sedan. A
flashlight was taped to the underside of the machine gun’s barrel, and the guard turned it on. He pointed it toward the back window and shone the light on Nance and Garret. After identifying both men, he told the driver to pop the trunk.
Walking to the rear of the car, he checked the trunk and then walked back to the guardhouse. Arthur was sitting behind the desk in his study watching the scene at the front gate. Embedded in the wall to the left of his desk were four security monitors and
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two large color TVS. Arthur watched the guard go back into the small booth, and a moment later the gate opened. The gate closed as soon as the car passed through.
Looking at another monitor, Arthur watched the car snake its way up the drive and stop in front of the house, where it was met by two more guards, one of whom had a German shepherd at his side.
Garret and Nance stepped out of the car and stood still while the dog sniffed them and a handheld metal detector was waved over their bodies.
Finally, the door was opened from the inside, and a third guard led them down the hall to Arthur’s study. Arthur pressed a button on the underside of his desk, and an old framed map of the world slid down and covered the monitors. Rising from behind the desk, he walked over to the fireplace and placed one hand on the mantel. Even though
Arthur was over seventy, he still had a rigid and upright frame. His silver hair was neatly combed straight back and stopped an inch above the white collar of his dress shirt. His fingernails were well manicured, and his expensive, worsted-wool suit hung perfectly from his slender frame. The door opened and Nance and Garret entered. Arthur kept his arm on the mantel and waited for his guests to approach.
Mike Nance stopped about ten feet away and in a formal tone said, “Stu Garret, I
would like to introduce you to Arthur.” Garret stepped forward and extended his damp, clammy hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a while.” Arthur nodded his head slightly. “The pleasure is all mine.” Then, motioning toward several chairs, he said, “Please, let’s sit. Would either of you like
