'No!' yelled Evan, his voice at last a clear, if breathless, roar. 'Leave her alone!'
'But Congressman—'
'Please do as I say. Don't call her! She hasn't slept in two or three days. Just get the doctor and help me back to my room… Then I have to use the phone.'
Forty-five minutes later, his shoulder restitched and his face and neck cleaned up, Kendrick sat in bed, the telephone in his lap, and dialled the number in Washington he had committed to memory. Against strenuous objections he had ordered the doctor and the nurses not to call the military police or even the hospital's security. It had been established that no one on the floor knew the heavyset woman other than as a name, obviously false, through transfer papers presented that afternoon from the base hospital in Pensacola, Florida. Highly qualified nurses were coveted additions to any staff; no one questioned her arrival and no one would stop her in her swift departure. And until the whole picture was clearer, there could be no official investigations triggering news stories in the media. The blackout was still in effect.
'Sorry to wake you, Mitch—’
'Evan?'
'You'd better know what happened.' Kendrick described the all too real nightmare he had lived through, including his decision to avoid the police, civilian and military. 'Maybe I was wrong, but I reckoned once she reached that exit door there wasn't much chance of getting her and every chance of hitting the papers if they tried.'
'You were right,' agreed Payton, speaking rapidly. 'She was a hired gun—'
'Pillow,' corrected Evan.
'Every bit as lethal if you hadn't woken up. The point is, hired killers plan ahead, usually with several different exits and an equal number of changes of clothes. You did the right thing.'
'Who hired her, Mitch?'
'I'd say it's pretty obvious. Grinell did. He's been a malignantly busy man since he got off that island.'
'What do you mean? Khalehla didn't tell me.'
'Khalehla, as you call her, doesn't know. She has enough stress with you on her hands. How is she taking tonight?'
'She hasn't been told. I wouldn't let them call her.'
'She'll be furious.'
'At least she'll get some sleep. What about Grinell?'
'Ardis Vanvlanderen's lawyer is dead and the ledger is nowhere to be found. Grinell's people got to San Jacinto first.'
'Goddamn it!' shouted Kendrick hoarsely. 'We've lost it!'
'It would appear so, but there's something that doesn't quite add up… Do you recall my telling you that all Grinell needed in order to know we were closing in was someone watching the attorney's house?'
'Certainly.'
'Gingerbread found him.'
'And?'
'If they did get that book, why station a lookout after the fact? Indeed, why risk it?'
'Force the lookout to tell you! Drug him up, you've done it before.'
'Gingerbread thinks not.'
'Why not?'
'Two reasons. The man may be a low-scale watchman who knows absolutely nothing, and second, Gingerbread wants to follow him.'
'You mean this Gingerbread found the lookout but the lookout doesn't know it?'
'I told you he was good. Grinell's man doesn't even know we found the dead lawyer. All he saw was a company truck and two gardeners in overalls who proceeded to mow the lawns.'
'But if the lookout's so low-scale, what will
