“Are you sure about that? We’re talking about a grieving father here.”
Hawk shrugged. “Perhaps, but Thurman is also a man with aspirations of becoming President.”
“And you believe he won’t take any time to reflect on the death of his son?”
“Thurman is a driven man. I wouldn’t be surprised about anything. But what’s it going to hurt to speak with him? If he blows us off now, we can talk to him at a different time.” Hawk dropped the binoculars and opened his door. “Come on. The crowd is starting to scatter. We need to catch Thurman before he gets to his car.”
Hawk and Alex got out of their car and hustled toward the row of vehicles located near the graveside. Spotting the special government license plate on one of the black sedans, they positioned themselves in front of Thurman’s car.
As family and friends got into their cars and drove off, Thurman lingered near the grave with his wife. After a few minutes, he finally headed toward his car. His scowl grew more pronounced when he made eye contact with Hawk and Alex.
“Senator, can we have a minute of your time?” Hawk asked after he introduced himself and Alex.
Thurman ignored them, helping his wife into the car first. Once he closed her door, he spun around toward Hawk and moved inches from his face.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here today,” Thurman said. “Who sent you anyway?”
“Blunt, sir,” Alex said meekly in an effort to soften up the senator.
“Blunt sent you?”
Hawk nodded but didn’t say a word.
“Well, I don’t know what you think I can tell you,” Thurman said. “I just want the bastard who did this dead. Just make it look like an accident, and get it over with.”
“Are you talking about Krasnoff?” Alex asked.
“That guy isn’t any more of a Russian diplomat than I am the quarterback for the Miami Dolphins,” Thurman said. “He’s been spotted at the crime scene of eight unsolved homicides. You two better make sure there isn’t a ninth.”
“I understand your concern, sir. We’re going to do everything we can to bring Krasnoff to justice. But we can’t just go around killing people indiscriminately.”
“Why not? That’s how the FSB does it.”
“We’re not the FSB—or the CIA or the FBI.”
Thurman shook his head. “So, you’re powerless is what you’re saying?”
“No, I’m saying we aren’t bound by standard parameters,” Hawk said. “If we need to take care of something, we can do it without operating within the confines of a slow-moving legal system that sometimes doesn’t get justice for anyone.”
“That’s why I called Blunt,” Thurman said. “I just thought you would be able to operate more quickly and get this thing over with. My family has suffered more than enough over this.”
“We understand, sir, but there’s definitely the possibility of creating an international incident if we aren’t careful,” Alex said. “We just want to know if you have any idea as to why someone within the FSB might want Thaxton dead.”
“I don’t know much, but I heard some chatter from one of my friends on the intelligence committee that the FSB accused Thaxton of stealing intel from his girlfriend’s computer. She was a Russian liaison working at the embassy in New York.”
“We read the file on this earlier, and there wasn’t any mention of Thaxton working in counterintelligence,” Alex said. “Was your son working for the agency?”
Thurman’s anger vanished for a moment, replaced by a slight smile. “No, not Thaxton. He was barely smart enough to get out of bed in the morning. Between you, me, and the fencepost, the only way he ever escaped from Harvard with a business degree was because of his last name. Thaxton wasn’t a threat to anyone but himself.”
“Are you talking about the drugs and the partying?” Hawk asked.
Thurman nodded. “He was so caught up in that world that he was never going to hold down a steady job. I even called in several favors just to get him an interview at Preston and Fields Investments. They gave him the job because I’m friends with the CEO, but they didn’t let him do anything more important than playing around on spreadsheets all day with accounts that couldn’t possibly have been real.”
“Where did he meet his girlfriend?”
“Ivana was a piece of work, all cleverly disguised behind her exotic good looks,” Thurman said. “You should start with her, because if there’s anyone who was in the intelligence field, it was her. Working at the embassy by day, but at night, she was a party animal—at least that’s what Thaxton’s body guards told me. She was constantly dragging Thaxton to a Russian dance club—I think the name of it is Mixtura—and keeping him out until the wee hours of the morning. She’s the reason he got two DUIs last month.”
“Do you think she would speak with us?” Alex asked.
“I doubt she’ll give you the time of day, at least not at her office. You might be able to chat with her while she’s out partying. But get to her early. The later you find her, the more drunk she will be.”
“We’d like to get access to Thaxton’s apartment in New York, if you’ll consent to that,” Hawk said.
“That’s not necessary. I had all of Thaxton’s belongings packed up and shipped back to us here. They are boxed up in his room at our house right now.”
“Do you mind if we look through them?” Alex asked.
“What do you expect to find?”
“Maybe a clue as to who’s behind all this,” Hawk said. “I’m sure this wasn’t just some assassin acting on his own.”
“I’m not sure you want to wade into that quagmire. Besides, even if you find out something, I doubt you’ll be able to do anything about it. These FSB agents acting as diplomats are untouchable.”
“Nobody’s untouchable, Senator.”
Thurman sighed. “You two are persistent. I guess you can
