“CIA. Guyana, South America.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Q875. You made one mistake, though. You left it behind.”
Governor Taylor took off his glasses and polished the lenses with his handkerchief. He took his time. “I worked for the state department in the seventies and eighties, Agent Bowers, researching trade agreements in France, South America, and Spain. It’s all a matter of public record. You can look it up. I’m afraid I was involved in foreign relations, not international espionage.”
“Codename Cipher, reference number 16dash1711alpha delta4,” I said. Terry is very good at his job.
The governor slid his glasses back onto his face. “Hmm… I’m guessing either military intelligence or NSA. Am I right? Is that where you went?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Of course you’re not.” He set his book aside and rose from the couch. “How long have you known?”
“Just over an hour. I spoke with my source this morning. He was very helpful.”
“I’m sure he was.”
“How far did it go, Governor? Did you do more than make the tape? Were you there on the airstrip at Port Kaituma?”
The governor stepped around the couch, walked up to me, and stood close enough for me to smell his minty breath. “Dr. Bowers, have you ever been fishing in the ocean?”
“I’ll find out, Governor. It’s just a matter of time. I already know about Trembley, that you sent him to follow me.”
He turned, walked over to the fireplace where the giant fish hung above the mantel. “Swordfish. Or maybe marlin, or like this tarpon here,” he said.
“Governor, did you hear what I said?”
“Of course, tarpon tend to stay closer to shore than marlin or sword.” He stepped back to admire his fish. “I caught this one off the coast of Tampa. Didn’t even realize it at the time, but we were fishing in the most densely shark-infested waters in the world-even more so than the Great Barrier Reef. Most people don’t know that.” He turned to face me. “Dr. Bowers, do you know what the most dangerous shark in the world is?”
Enough games. Enough banter. “Things spun out of control, didn’t they? The place was a time bomb, and you dialed it to zero. Jones imploded after the assassination, and you needed to give your supervisors proof that you’d cleaned things up. But why did you leave the tape behind? That’s the one thing I can’t figure out.”
“The shark, Dr. Bowers. Try to guess the shark.”
“I don’t know,” I said through my teeth. “The great white.”
He smirked. “Yes, you see, most people think so-that’s what everyone says, that or the hammerhead; but no. It’s the bull shark, actually. Likes to stay near shore, and it can live in both salt water and fresh water, very adaptable to different environments. That’s what makes it so deadly.”
He turned to me. His eyes narrowed, became bullets. The change was stunning. “They tell me that around there people don’t always catch what they expect,” he said. “Sometimes the fish at the other end of the line turns out to be a bull shark. Not something you’d want to pull up to the boat.”
I cocked my head. “Are you threatening me, Governor?”
He stepped even closer, and his voice leveled off into a flat, metallic whisper. His eyes, cool black stones. “If you’re going to go trolling through these waters, you better be ready to reel in whatever fish decides to bite.”
“I’m ready,” I said. “Bring on the sharks.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Neither do you.”
Just then Ms. Banner and Tessa appeared at the doorway. “The young lady is anxious to get going,” said Ms. Banner. My guess was that Ms. Banner was anxious to get rid of Tessa and get back to personally assisting the governor. I watched Governor Taylor’s eyes track across the room, and come to rest on Tessa.
I swear, if he even looks at her the wrong way I’m going to take him down.
“And who do we have here?” he asked.
“My name is Tessa. So you’re Governor Taylor?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She scanned the room. “Nice tarpon.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
The governor smiled. “Well, thank you.”
Her eyes flickered from one painting to the next, scrutinizing them. “So,” she asked at last, “how come you only have paintings of battles that the South won?”
OK. Now that’s just plain impressive.
He hesitated for a moment. “That’s… very astute, young lady. You’re a bright girl. I’m sure your father is very proud of you.”
“Well,” Tessa said, “you’d have to ask him about that.”
My heart squirmed inside my skin. “C’mon, Tessa. I’m done here. Let’s get going.”
The governor grinned. “Dr. Bowers, if you and Agent Jiang can’t make it to the luncheon tomorrow, I’ll certainly understand.”
“Oh, we’ll be there,” I said. “I’ve heard they’re serving fish.”
He breathed out through his nose like Margaret tends to do. Good. I’d annoyed him.
“Ms. Banner,” he said, “please give our young guest one of the signed photographs.”
And with that, Ms. Banner led us outside without a word, handed Tessa a picture without a word, and ushered us to the car without a word.
As soon as I started the engine, Tessa crinkled up the picture and tossed it out the window onto the governor’s meticulously manicured lawn. “I don’t like the way he looked at me.”
“You’re a good judge of character,” I said. “Keep that up.”
Amazing. We actually agreed on something.
63
All the way back to Asheville, Tessa rode in silence, her iPod plugged into her ears.
I grabbed my stuff from the hotel, checked out, and drove to the safe house.
Tessa and her iPod rode along in silence.
The safe house Tessa and I would be staying in was a dun-colored ranch-style home on the outer fringe of the city, near the French Broad River. Sheriff Wallace had assigned Officers Jason Stilton and Patricia Muncey to guard Tessa. They were waiting for us at the house when we arrived. I recognized them from the briefing I’d given on Friday.
“Getting colder,” said Officer Stilton as he tossed his cigarette into the grass and led me inside the house.
Tessa and her iPod walked past us in silence.
“Yeah,” I said watching her step past me. “Guy on the radio said something about snow tomorrow morning.”
Officer Stilton grunted, which I guess meant he agreed.
“Don’t mind the toys,” said Officer Muncey as we stepped into the living room. “Haven’t quite cleaned up from the last occupants yet.”
The living room smelled vaguely of cat litter and baby powder. Toddler toys lay scattered across the floor, making the simplest trek through the living room a challenge. But the bigger challenge appeared to be avoiding stepping on one of the two cats that lurked relentlessly underfoot or appeared out of nowhere and sprawled in front of you, waiting for you to scratch them.
“Domestic abuse case with a city council member,” said Officer Muncey. “They brought his wife and kids here to protect them.”
“Took the kids,” grumbled Jason Stilton. “Left the cats.”
