The Third Coincidence (26 page)

Jack had feared from the start that the hunt for LW could turn into a massive political sideshow which would become the Achilles’ heel of his investigation. He quickly gathered his thoughts before re- plying.

“First, it would deflect my focus at a critical time when things are happening fast. Second, to give a press conference and not tell Amer- ica we’re close would accomplish little in the way of what you’re after. Third, to hold a press conference to assure America we are get- ting close would also warn LW to exercise more caution at a time when it appears his success may be making him cocky and, hope- fully, careless.”

Sam Schroeder had always been a man strong enough to stand against the shrill voices of partisanship. Jack’s confidence was grow- ing that the president would continue to stand with him. He also knew that time had become as much the enemy as LW.

“We don’t want LW closing up shop.” Jack turned back to the president. “We don’t need another Carlos the Jackal to chase around the world for God knows how long. I want this madman feeling safe, feeling superior. If in the short run we look inept, so be it. I want

196 David M. Bishop

LW to think we aren’t getting close until he puts his nose on the cheese and we spring the trap.”

“But—”

“No buts, Clancy.” The president said, interrupting his chief of staff. “Politics is our concern, not Jack’s. There’ll be no press con- ference for him. If the heat goes up, we’ll grin and bear it. Ulti- mately, the best politics will be to catch this guy.” The president turned his gaze from Clancy Stafford back to Jack. “You look like you’re chewing on something else. Let’s have it.”

Jack had been close to saying it several times. Now he did. “Mr. President, right at the start, CNN reported that the six of you met to decide to form my squad. Even my name and Rachel Johnstone’s were reported. Today, I have shared everything we know. It will dam- age our efforts if any part of what we have been discussing appears in the media.”

Bob Quartz slapped the arm of the couch. “McCall, are you ac- cusing us of leaking stories to the media?”

“Quartz, I’m a little fed up with your—”

”You can’t talk to me like that. I’m the national security advisor.” “Bob,” General Crook said, “all Jack is saying is that the six of us met and the next morning CNN reported some of the content of

our meeting. That is a fact, not an accusation.”

“True enough, General,” the president said. “The fact remains that CNN got something only we had. Bob, from the beginning your actions and some of your public statements have put you at odds with the rest of us on this matter. Contrarian views can be healthy. But people who hold those views can be too zealous. I think we’re ready to adjourn. Bob, on the way out tell Gruber to schedule you to come back in later today.”

Director Quartz stood, snorted audibly, and started toward the door.

“Hold on Bob,” the president said. “Before any of you leave, let me say this: None of you are to speak of this meeting to anyone in

the third coincidence 197

your agencies or families. There are to be no notes from the meet- ing. No exceptions! Director Quartz, I am deadly serious about this. If a comma from this meeting is reported by the media, I will launch a relentless investigation to identify which of you to castrate. Or a similar fate if it’s you, Harriet.”

The president smiled, but Jack knew he had just witnessed a clear threat of political reprisal. And, he knew the president meant the threat.

CHAPTER 39

It’s been reported that McCall has talked President Schroeder into giving him more time.

—CNN

Jack left the White House and, despite the hour, went back to Lan- gley. The short drive through the trees off Dolly Madison Boulevard made the route into the CIA headquarters seem like the entrance to a different world. A world always preparing for a life-and-death situ- ation, or experiencing one, or recovering from one, or being called to Capitol Hill to explain the agency’s actions, or to receive a tongue lashing from senators striving to extract political points from the hides of the intelligence community.

He found Frank Wade sitting alone with his feet on his desk. “Rachel sent everyone home at seven,” Frank said. “The latest es-

timate for our list of shooters is tomorrow mid-afternoon, so she fig- ured we ought to try to get some sleep.”

“What about the lists of dissidents?”

“Those will take longer, but hopefully we’ll also get them to- morrow.” Frank swung his feet off his desk and stood. “I know you’re tired, so blow me off if you wanna head home and crash, but I thought you might like to get a beer and relax for a while.”

“Let’s do it,” Jack told him. “I never get to sleep before about midnight no matter how tired I am.”

Jack followed Frank to a classy, quiet lounge on the D.C. side of the Potomac River. The place had a comfortable feel with canned

the third coincidence 199

lighting and booths covered in padded burgundy, the air dense with the smell of popcorn and the songs of Sinatra.

“The usual,” Frank hollered toward the barkeep. “Damn good idea,” Jack said, “I needed this.” “Figured you might.”

“You and Nora have been just incredible.”

“We appreciate your not treating us as peons because we’re lo- cals.”

“You’re still here ’cause you’re doing the job.” Jack reached over and tapped mugs with Frank. “How long you two been partners?”

Frank grinned. “I’ve been a homicide detective for fifteen years. Nowadays our division’s more than just homicides. A few years ago the guys upstairs gave us a new name. We’re the Violent Crimes Unit. About a year after Nora made detective, my former partner, Max Logan, retired. I ruffled a few feathers among the good old boys when I asked for Nora. I’ve never regretted the choice. A woman brings a different way of looking at some things, and I enjoy working with her. She’s a good detective.”

“You’re divorced, right?” When Frank nodded, Jack asked, “Any kids?”

“Two. My ex, Sharon, is an administrative assistant in the DA’s office. We still care about each other.” He shrugged. “She just couldn’t handle the hours and stress of my work. She’s right. The job sucks, but it’s in my blood. We still do some things together with our two children.”

Jack licked beer froth from his upper lip. “How old are the kids?” “Becky, Rebecca, is thirteen.” Frank opened his wallet and showed her picture. Then he flipped over to the next plastic sheath. “William turned fourteen last month. The teen years! Sharon and I are scared to death, but so far it’s been fine. They’re still my life,

other than police work. You ever marry?”

Jack seldom talked about himself this way, but he found that, after listening to Frank, he was in the mood. He told Frank about his sister in Phoenix and even showed him a snapshot of his niece, Amy.

200 David M. Bishop

Then he brought the subject back to Frank and Sharon by suggest- ing that the two of them might get together again some day.

“There’d still be problems,” Frank said. “A few weeks before I joined your squad she told me she still cared and still worried, but because I don’t live with them anymore, at least she doesn’t get pissed nights sitting home alone.”

“Maybe when the kids are older,” Jack said.

The waiter stopped to check their table. “Can I get you two something to eat?”

“I haven’t eaten all day.” Jack picked up the table tent card pro- moting spicy chicken wings and held it up. Frank nodded. “Bring us a big order of these,” Jack told the waiter.

“Anybody serious in your life?” Frank asked.

Jack shrugged. “Sometimes I date a divorcee who lives next door, and there’s an old college sweetheart who lives in Alexandria. We’ve had a long on and off relationship. No pun intended,” he added with a wry grin.

“That’s a lot of years for it not to be serious?”

“We care about one another, but we’ve agreed it’s nothing more than a safe physical convenience. She’s a lobbyist here in D.C. Her life is her career—like mine, I guess.”

When the wings arrived, they munched in silence for a few min- utes.

“Truth is I’d like to get married someday,” Jack admitted. “But as you know it’s a hard mix with the job. Have you ever thought about not being a cop?”

“Nora and I have talked about a private agency. Neither of us wants to give up being a detective, but we’d give up the department. That was a hard decision for Nora. She’s a third-generation D.C. cop.”

“I’ve never worked for a PD. What’re the problems?”

“I think the thing that frustrates us most is the politics in a big city police department. A private firm might also allow a more normal home life.”

the third coincidence 201

“What’s stopping you?” Jack asked.

“That’s easy. Funds. We both know it’s more dream than plan, but we drift into the talk sometimes when the frustrations pile up. And for me there’s the issue of benefits and health care. The de- partment provides good coverage for the kids.”

Listening to Frank, Jack thought that maybe a private agency might be right for him. He liked a lot of things about the work he had done for the government, just not the lack of roots.

“After we stop LW,” Jack said, “I’ve got some decisions to make along those lines. I’m forty-six. It’s time to either get my life in order and take a shot at a family or accept that it’s not in the cards.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” Frank said. “How’d it go at the White House? That part of this case you’ve had to carry alone. Are the politicos pushing you?”

“They’re in a hurry, but then who isn’t?” Jack lowered his voice. “If we don’t stop this guy soon, President Schroeder won’t have a second term and that would be a great loss for America.”

“You believe in the guy don’t you?”

“I do. He’s a good man with a fine mind and a tremendous sense of right and wrong.”

“You’re doing all that can be done. Quit beating yourself up. We started with nothing and in a little more than two weeks you’ve led us onto his trail. I feel it.”

“I do, too,” Jack agreed. “But the devil of it is, we’re at the point where we may soon find we’re following a false trail.”

“Maybe the lists tomorrow will bring the piece we need.”

Jack knew it had better be more than a maybe. The president had not said it, but Jack left the White House knowing his time was limited. Those opposed to him were gaining ground with the presi- dent.

CHAPTER 40

President Schroeder has asked for a letter of resignation from National Security Advisor Robert Quartz.

—Sal Ramirez, CNN, June 19

“Mom, are you going to give up your job at the fed?”

Federal Reserve Governor Deirdre Jones looked up from her kitchen table where she sat having breakfast with her husband, Christian, and their two teenage children.

“Why, sweetie? Do you think I should?”

“Yes, Mom,” the fifteen-year-old said, “and Ben agrees with me.” Mary Ellen often assigned her views to her younger brother, Ben- jamin. In this instance, however, thirteen-year-old Ben did agree and

said so. “Yeah, Mom, you should quit.”

“Did you put them up to this?” Deirdre asked her husband. “Actually, I didn’t,” Christian told her. “But, I agree with them.

You’re under great stress and in danger. We don’t need the money, so why do you choose for all of us to live in harm’s way?”

She turned to her children. “Why do you want me to quit?”

“I agree with Dad,” Mary Ellen said. “Besides, it’s a bummer hav- ing FBI agents following me.”

Deirdre left the table, and got a paper from her built-in kitchen desk.

“A few days ago, George Nelson, one of the other Federal Re- serve governors, brought me a copy of something he received in his e-mail. Nelson’s hobby is colonial history. He said that he didn’t

the third coincidence 203

know its source, but he considered it substantially accurate. Please listen while I read it aloud. And then we’ll vote, as a family, to decide whether or not I resign.”