Congressman. You're wanted downstairs.'
'Suppose I refuse the invitation?'
'Then I blow a hole through your stomach and kick a corpse down the stairs. Whichever, I really don't care. I'm being paid for a service, not a guaranteed delivery. Take your choice, hero.'
The room was a naturalist's nightmare. The heads of slain animals hung from the white stucco walls, their false eyes reflecting the panic of impending death. Skins of leopard, tiger and elephant were the upholstery, neatly stretched and brass-tacked over chairs and couches. If nothing else, it was an assertion of the power of man's bullet over unsuspecting wildlife, and not so much imposing as sad, as sad as the hollow triumphs of the victors.
The Secret Service guard had opened the door, gestured for Kendrick to go inside, and then closed it, remaining in the hallway. Once the initial effect of the room wore off, Evan realized that a man was seated at a large desk, only the back of his head visible. Several moments after the door closed, as if to make certain they were alone, the man turned around in the swivel chair.
'We've never met, Congressman,' said Crayton Grinell in his soft, pleasant lawyer's cadence, 'and discourteous as it may appear, I prefer to remain nameless… Please, sit down. There's no reason to be more uncomfortable than necessary. It's why your clothes were returned to you.'
'I gather they served their purpose in a place called Balboa Park.' Kendrick sat down in a chair in front of the desk; the seat was covered with leopard skin.
'Providing us with options, yes,' agreed Grinell.
'I see.' Evan suddenly recognized the distinctive voice he knew he had heard before. It was on the blond European's tape recording. The man in front of him was the vanished Crayton Grinell, the attorney responsible for wholesale death in Cyprus, killer of the Secretary of State. 'But since you don't want me to know who you are, am I to infer that one of those options might find me back in San Diego?'
'Quite possibly, but I must emphasize the questionable part. I'm being frank with you.'
'So were your friends at Bollinger's house.'
'I'm sure they were and so were you.'
'Did you have to do it?'
'Do what?'
'Kill an old man.'
'We had nothing to do with that! Besides, he's not dead.'
'He will be.'
'So will we all one day… It was a gratuitously stupid act, as stupid as her husband's incredible financial manipulations in Zurich. We may be many things, Congressman, but we're not stupid. However, we're wasting time. The Vanvlanderens are gone and whatever happened is buried with them. The erstwhile “Dr Lyons” will never be seen again—'
'I want him!' Kendrick broke in.
'But we got him and he got the maximum penalty a court can impose.'
'How can I be sure of that?'
'How can you doubt it? Could the Vice President, could any of us tolerate the association?… We deeply regret what's happened to Mr. Weingrass, but we had absolutely nothing to do with it. I repeat, the doctor and the Vanvlanderens are gone. It's all a closed book, can you accept that?'
'Was it necessary to drug me and bring me out here to convince me?'
'We couldn't very well leave you in San Diego saying the things you were saying.'
'Then what are we talking about now?'
'Another book,' replied Grinell, leaning forward in the chair. 'We want it back, and in exchange you're free. You'll be returned to your hotel in your own clothes and nothing's changed. It's daytime in Zurich; a line of credit to the amount of fifty million dollars has been established in your name.'
Stunned, Evan tried not to show his astonishment. 'Another book?… I'm not sure I follow you.'
