the NUMA building. A cheap plastic removable sign adhered to the passenger’s door advertised GUS MOORE’S PLUMBING. Behind the cab in the truck’s bed, several lengths of copper pipe and an assortment of tools lay in casual disorder. The men’s coveralls were stained with dirt and grease, and neither had shaved in three or four days. The only odd thing about their appearance was their eyes. They never shifted from the entrance to NUMA’s headquarters.
The driver tensed and made a directional movement with a nod of his head. “I think this is him coming.”
The other man raised a pair of binoculars wrapped in a brown paper bag with the bottom torn out and gazed at a figure emerging from the revolving glass doors. Then he laid the glasses in his lap and examined a face in a large eleven-by-fourteen-inch glossy photograph.
“Confirmed.”
The driver checked a row of numbers on a small black transmitter. “Counting one hundred forty seconds from… now.” He punctuated his words by pushing a toggle switch to the “on” position.
“Okay,” his partner said. “Let’s get the hell away.”
Pitt reached the bottom of the broad stone steps as the plumber’s truck drove past in front of him. He stood a moment to let another car by and began walking through the parking lot. He was seventy yards from the Talbot- Lago when he turned at the honking of a horn.
Al Giordino drew up alongside in a Ford Bronco four-wheel drive. His curly black hair was shaggy and uncombed and a heavy growth covered his chin. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week.
“Sneaking home early?” he said.
“I was until you caught me,” Pitt replied, grinning.
“Lucky you, sitting around with nothing to do.”
“You wrap the
Giordino gave a tired nod. “Towed her up the river and pushed her into dry dock about three hours ago. You can smell her death stink a mile away.”
“At least you didn’t have to remove the bodies.”
“No, a Navy diving team was stuck with that ugly chore.”
“Take a week off. You’ve earned it.”
Giordino spread his Roman smile. “Thanks, boss. I needed that.” Then his expression turned solemn. “Anything new on the
“We’re zeroing in—”
Pitt never finished the sentence. A thunderous explosion tore the air. A ball of flame erupted between the densely packed cars and jagged metal debris burst in all directions. A tire and wheel, the chrome spokes flashing in the sun, flew in a high arc and landed with a loud crunch in the middle of Giordino’s hood. Bouncing inches over Pitt’s head, it then rolled through a landscaped parkway before coming to rest in a cluster of rosebushes. The rumble from the blast echoed across the city for several seconds before it finally faded and died.
“God!” Giordino rasped in bewildered awe. “What was that?”
Pitt took off running, dodging between the tightly parked cars, until he slowed and halted in front of a scrambled mass of metal that smoldered and coughed up a cloud of dense black smoke. The asphalt underneath was gouged and melting from the heat, turning into a heavy sludge. The tangled wreck was nearly unrecognizable as a car.
Giordino ran up behind him. “Jesus, whose was it?”
“Mine,” said Pitt, his features twisted in bitterness as he stared at the remains of the once beautiful Talbot- Lago.
Part III
The
45
Loren was greeted by Captain Yakov Pokofsky when she boarded the
In the evening, when the last of the passengers had boarded and settled down in their staterooms, the crew cast off the mooring lines and the cruise ship steamed out of Biscayne Bay through the channel into the Atlantic. The lights of the hotels on Miami Beach glittered under a tropical breeze and slowly closed together in a thin glowing line as the
Loren stripped off her clothes and took a shower. When she stepped out and toweled, she struck an exaggerated model’s pose in front of a full-length mirror. The body was holding up quite well, considering thirty- seven years of use. Jogging and ballet classes four hours a week kept the centrifugal forces at bay. She pinched her tummy and sadly noted that slightly more than an inch of flesh protruded between her thumb and forefinger. The lavish food on the cruise ship wasn’t going to do her weight any good. She steeled her mind to lay off the alcohol and desserts.
She slipped on a mauve silk damask jacket over a black lace and taffeta skirt. Loosening the businesslike knot at the top of her head, she let her hair down so that it spilled over her shoulders. Satisfied with the effect, she felt in the mood for a stroll around the deck before dinner at the captain’s table.
The air was so warm she dispensed with a sweater. On the aft end of the sun deck she found a vacant deck chair and relaxed, raising her knees and clasping her hands around her calves. For the next half-hour she let her mind wander as she watched the half-moon’s reflection dash across the dark swells. Then the exterior deck lights abruptly went out from bow to stern.
Loren didn’t notice the helicopter until it was almost over the fantail of the ship. It had arrived at wavetop level, flying without navigation lights. Several crew members appeared from the shadows and quickly laid a roof over the boat-deck swimming pool. Then a ship’s officer signaled with a flashlight and the helicopter descended lightly onto the improvised landing pad.
Loren rose to her feet and stared over the railing. Her vantage point was one deck above and forty feet distant from the closed-over swimming pool. The area was dimly lit by the partial moon, enabling her to observe most of the action. She glanced around, looking for other passengers, but saw only five or six who were standing fifty feet further away.
Three men left the aircraft. Two of them, it appeared to Loren, were treated roughly. The ship’s officer placed the flashlight under his arm so he could have both hands free to brusquely shove one of the men into an open hatchway. For a brief instant the un-aimed beam caught and held on a paper-white face, eyes bulging in fear. Loren saw the facial details clearly. Her hands gripped the deck rail and her heart felt locked in ice.
Then the copter rose into the night and turned sharply back toward shore. The cover over the pool was quickly removed and the crew melted away. In a few seconds the ship’s lights came back on. Everything happened so fast, Loren wondered for a moment if she had actually witnessed the landing and takeoff.
But there was no mistaking the frightened creature she saw on the pool deck below. She was positive it was the Speaker of the House, Congressman Alan Moran.
