I thought back to my last meeting with Bauer. 'She thinks we're too close. She thinks you're in love with me.'
Rachel's cheeks colored in the fading sun. 'Because of the kiss at Lu Li's?'
'Not just that. When Geli questioned me yesterday, she told me that you never see anyone.'
'How would she know that?'
'She knows everybody you've dated and when you stopped seeing them. She knows who your third-grade teacher was and what your mother used to cook for you when you were sick.'
'What did you tell her when she said I was in love with you?'
'That you think I'm schizophrenic.'
Rachel smiled, her eyes full of sadness.
I panned my eyes across the broad expanse of river, searching for other water craft. I saw none, which didn't surprise me too much. Fishermen bought big outboard motors to take them to distant fishing spots as fast as possible. I dug in my paddle and pointed the canoe toward the boat ramp.
'We're stopping?' Rachel asked, looking at the gen¬tle slope of the ramp.
'Yes. When we hit, stay in the boat. I won't be long.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Take a look around.'
I beached the canoe beside the ramp, then jumped into the shallow water and splashed onto shore. The oyster-shell parking lot stretched from the woods on my right to the huge concrete bridge pilings on my left. I saw no people, but a line of pickup trucks with boat trailers sat parked about forty yards from the ramp. I walked over to them and moved between two trucks.
Ducking low, I felt along the tops of the tires of both pickups, searching for stashed keys. I found none. Moving around the truck on my left, I checked its other two tires. Nothing. I had no luck with the next two trucks either. The next in line was a maroon Dodge Ram. There was no key sitting on its tires, so I changed tactics. Squatting between the rear of the truck and the empty boat trailer behind it, I reached under the bumper and slid my fingertips along the inside of its metallic lip. Something slid toward the fender with a scratching sound.
A magnetic key case.
I opened the small black box and found a key to the Dodge and one for the locking trailer hitch. Quickly dis¬engaging the trailer from the truck, I got behind the wheel and started the engine.
Rachel ducked down in the canoe as I drove up, not realizing I was behind the wheel. I swung left so that my window came to face her.
'Bring Fielding's box!' I shouted. 'Hurry!'
Cradling the cardboard box in her arms, Rachel climbed out of the canoe and splashed out of the river. I ran to the bank and grabbed a handful of mud from the shallows, which I spread across part of the truck's license plate. Then I washed my hand in the river, set Fielding's box on the backseat, and helped Rachel onto the bench seat beside me.
'Did you hot-wire this thing?' she asked.
'I wouldn't know how. Fishermen are honest people. They trust each other. I hate to take it, really.'
'I'll say a prayer of penance. Let's go.'
We left a white cloud of oyster-shell dust behind us as we raced out of the lot.
'Are we still going to Nags Head?' Rachel asked.
'No. They could be waiting for us there. Let me use your cell phone.'
She pulled a silver Motorola from her pocket and gave it to me. I dialed the White House number from memory; Fielding had told me long ago to memorize it.
'Who are you calling?' Rachel asked.
'The president, I hope.'
'But you said-'
'I want to see what happens.'
An operator answered on the second ring. I said, 'Pro¬ject Trinity.' There was a silence, then a click, and the man I'd spoken to yesterday said, 'State your business.'
'This is David Tennant. I need to speak to the presi¬dent.'
'Hold, please.'
A hissing silence followed, and I knew that every tick¬ing second gave the NSA longer to track the location of Rachel's cell phone.
'Well?' she said.
'Count to forty. Out loud.'
She had reached thirty-five when a voice with a New England accent said, 'Dr. Tennant?'
'Yes.'
'This is Ewan McCaskell. I'm talking to you from Air Force One.'
My heart thudded. 'Mr. McCaskell, I need to speak to the president.'
“He's talking to the British prime minister now. He should be able to come to the phone in about five min¬utes. '
I couldn't sit on an open cell phone for five minutes.
'Will you wait?' McCaskell asked. 'The president knows there have been confusing events at Project Trinity. He wants very much to speak with you.'
'I can't wait. I'll call the White House again in seven minutes.'
'We'll have it routed to us.'
I clicked END, my heart pounding.
Rachel touched my arm. 'Good or bad?'
'I don't know. That was McCaskell. He said the pres¬ident wants to talk to me. But they've obviously been talked to already. By John Skow, probably. They only know what Godin wants them to know.'
'Are they back in the U.S.?'
'They're on Air Force One.'
'On their way back from China?'
'No. That's a five-day trip, plus a one-day stopover in Japan. I checked yesterday. This summit is sort of a celebration of Nixon's visit in ' 72. A repeat perfor¬mance, without the Cold War tension.'
'What are you going to say when you call back?'
I shook my head. President Bill Matthews had been the senior Republican senator from Texas when he was swept into the White House on a tide of anti-Democrat frustration. No one had been more surprised than my brother, James, who had known Matthews since their days at Yale. Matthews was a charismatic figure, but not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, according to my brother. As a senator, he had relied heavily on his advisers, and that had not changed in the White House. Still, the general opinion was that he was doing a solid job on both the domestic and foreign fronts. I'd met Matthews once in the Oval Office, then again at a Georgetown reception, when I was filming the NOVA series based on my book. How did he remember me? As a levelheaded physician whose brother he had liked? Or as the delusional paranoid Skow had undoubtedly described?
I drove anxiously along Highway 64 until it was time to call back. This time, when I identified myself, the con¬nection was almost immediate.
'Dr. Tennant?' said the president.
'This is David Tennant.'
'This is Bill Matthews, David. I know it's been a while since we last saw each other, but I want you to know you can tell me anything. Now, talk to me.'
I took a deep breath and went straight to the point. 'Sir, I know you've already heard some things about my supposed mental state. I want you to know that I'm as sane as the day we met in the Oval Office. So, please lis¬ten with an open mind. Andrew Fielding died in his office at Trinity yesterday. I believe he was murdered. Today there was an attempt on my life. A man came into my home with a gun, and I had to shoot him in self- defense. Project Trinity is completely out of control, and I think Peter Godin and John Skow are to blame.'
There was a long silence.
'Mr. President?'
'I heard you, David. Look, the first thing we need to do is get you to a safe place.'
