The Third Coincidence (32 page)

“What can I say? It’s a gift.”

They all laughed, a bottled-up nervous kind of laugh.

“The important thing is that he’s our guy,” Jack proclaimed. “There’s no doubt. Did you find anything in his computer?”

“No. Maybe Millet would have. I could have used more time but I got everything on a CD.”

The car continued south fifteen miles an hour faster than the posted speed limit, its headlights of limited use against the early gray sky.

CHAPTER 49

According to a recent poll, 46 percent of Americans would not accept an appointment to the Supreme Court or the Federal Reserve before LW is caught.

—USA Today Poll

june 21, 5:41 a.m.

“Did you nail his ass?” Millet asked.

Marsha leaped off the couch. “Did you get him?”

“Not home,” Rex said before collapsing into one of the Bullpen’s green overstuffed chairs. “We bugged the place and set up an ob- servation post.”

“Christ,” Nora said. “I hope he’s not off somewhere visiting one of his targets. Rachel, let’s call and alert the protection squads again. Let them know Dalton may be on the hunt.”

“Use LW, not Dalton,” Jack cautioned. “Let’s keep his identity on a need-to-know basis.”

Rachel tossed the CD to Millet. “I copied his hard drive. He had no e-mail sent or received. His address book had nothing in it.”

Lana Kindar, the Kurdish woman Jack had saved in Iraq, and got jobs for her and her husband, Zaro, as a coffee service worker at CIA headquarters, walked into the Bullpen and went to Jack. She reached up and cradled his cheek in her open palm. Her calloused hand somehow felt soft. When she turned to leave, he rested his

244 David M. Bishop

hand on her shoulder. She stopped and turned. Jack hugged her. She smiled and left.

“Frank, can you get an all-points bulletin out on Dalton’s Ex- plorer without it getting to the press?” Jack asked.

“The media and ambulance-chasing attorneys listen to the po- lice radio,” Frank said after shrugging.

“It’s your town. How do we find this Explorer without tipping off the media and starting rumors? He’ll bolt if he hears the police are looking for his car.”

“We could go to the station and talk with the watch com- mander,” Nora said after digging a finger full of raspberry jelly out of one of the fresh pastries Lana had just left. “Ask him to spread the word face-to-face, not use the radio. That might keep the lid on for a while, maybe twenty-four hours, certainly no longer.” Her eyes slightly crossed as she watched her red finger approach her mouth. “Keeping it hushed for even twenty-four hours would take a bunch of luck,” Frank said, standing to flex his tall frame. “Certain media people spend a lot of time and money maintaining contacts on the force. This is not just another big city. It’s the nation’s capi-

tal.”

Jack gulped his coffee. “So, if we’re going to get him today, it might be a good idea. If not, it stinks. Is that what you’re telling me?” They had found neither the perp nor any conclusive proof at Dalton’s home, and now they were running into problems with what Jack had hoped would be a simple APB on a car. The luck he had

prayed would hold was slipping away.

Frank twisted his shoulders. “You can’t tell anything to that many people and expect it to remain a secret.”

Millet walked over from his computer. “Rachel had it right, Jack- man. That CD had nothing that helps one fucking bit.”

Adrenaline raced through Jack. He got out of his chair, left the Bullpen, and walked the halls of the CIA complex. When he got back, he had made his decision.

the third coincidence 245

“If Dalton wasn’t home at four thirty in the morning, it’s a good guess he’s out of town. Rex, take charge of an FBI squad to check the parking lots at D.C.’s airports and Baltimore International. Give them the description and license number of the Explorer. They’re to get inside the car without making it obvious. His parking stub will likely be in the car. Have them get the time on the stub and call you. From where he parked, the entry time on the stub, and the home cities of his likely targets we should be able to shorten the list of pos- sible flights. Maybe make a decent guess at his next target.”

“Then we can alert that target’s protection squad.” Rachel said eagerly.

“Something like that,” Jack said. “If we’re lucky.”

“It sure as hell beats turning in circles,” Frank volunteered. “If he’s out of town, his car may be at the airport.”

“Include the train and bus stations,” Jack said as Rex waved back over his shoulder on his way to the door.

june 21, 9:00 a.m.

Jack held a cold, sweaty bottle of spring water against the back of his neck. Three hours had passed without hearing from Rex. He called Mike Edgerson. Nothing had happened at Dalton’s house either. Jack noticed Nora playing the children’s hand game of here’s the church and here’s the steeple, open the door and see all the people. Colin, working on calming his nerves, sat hunched building a card house. Rachel reclined in her chair, her arms dangling toward the floor, staring at their paper graveyard. And Millet, having found nothing meaningful on the CD Rachel had brought back from Dal- ton’s house, kept swigging cranberry juice between his dog-in-heat gawks at Nora.

A few minutes after nine, Rachel’s phone rang. She answered to hear Special Agent Martin, the agent in charge who had relieved Mike Edgerson’s SWAT team. Martin reported that no one had been seen coming or going at Dalton’s house.

246 David M. Bishop

At nine thirty Rex called. He had fifty agents on the job but with three-quarters of the lots at the airports, bus stations, and train sta- tions checked, they had not found Dalton’s Explorer.

“We’re going back!” Jack said, after rapping his knuckles twice on the table. “Millet, you’ve never been on a field op. How’d you like to come along?”

“Just watch my back. I’m no fucking secret agent man.”

june 21, 10:00 a.m.

Press Secretary Addiena Welch stood on her tiptoes to speak into the microphone that had been raised to the setting for her boss.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “the President of the United States.”

President Schroeder strode directly to the microphone. “Thank you all for coming. This will be short. I stood before you a few days ago and spoke of the bipartisan effort to expedite confirmations. Late last night, in special session, Duncan Carillo and William Ladd were confirmed by the Senate’s Judiciary Committee and approved by the vote of the full Senate to take seats on the bench of the U.S. Supreme Court. I’m pleased to announce the U.S. Supreme Court has a quorum and is back in business. In addition, Dr. Elizabeth Hancock took a seat on the board of governors of the Federal Re- serve System. To facilitate their prompt relocations to D.C., these appointees will not appear before you this morning.

“Throughout the history of our great country, patriots such as these three appointees have always stepped up to the plate in our times of need. America’s greatest strength continues to be our citi- zens and their commitment to serve their country.

“My thanks go to Senators Marshall Leland and Ruth Ann Mitchell, the chairpersons of the Senate’s Judiciary and Banking Committees, for their tireless attention to this matter. Senators Le- land and Mitchell have assured me their committees will soon con- firm more nominees.

the third coincidence 247

“Ms. Welch has the background handouts standard to such ap- pointments. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.”

The president tamped straight his two-page statement and turned to leave.

“Mr. President! Mr. President!”

“I refer you to the confirmations committees for any details or updates,” Schroeder said, and again started to leave.

“Mr. President! Mr. President!”

The president turned back and leaned toward the microphone. “I said no questions. There will be none. However, I will take this opportunity to make a brief statement on the matter of this self- appointed Commander LW and his band of renegades.”

He cleared his throat. “I and the leaders of your government’s law enforcement and intelligence agencies have recently met with Jack McCall. Mr. McCall reported that his team remains positive and hard at work. Beyond that, it would not be appropriate for me to comment. I assure all Americans that their president and the in- telligence community continue to support Jack McCall as the right man for this nasty job. Anything you may hear to the contrary is with- out merit.”

CHAPTER 50

President Schroeder continues to stand firm: “McCall remains in charge of the LW case.”

—Mel Carsten, D.C. Talk.

june 21, 10:17 a.m.

Rachel twisted around and looked at Millet sitting behind her in the van. “There have to be files on his targets.”

“Dalton killed Roberts in his mistress’s apartment,” Jack said, twisting to the left as Frank turned the wheel hard to the left and ac- celerated around a FedEx truck. “Neither the FBI nor the Supreme Court Police knew about Jenny Robinson. Dalton did. The details of that information about Roberts and the others must be in that house.” “Drive this sucker, Frank,” Millet said. “It’s so cool to not have

to sweat getting a ticket. Hey, Jackson, when are we going to stake- out that grave?”

“Colin,” Jack said, “what did you find out?” “He’s been there,” Colin said.

“How could you tell?” Nora asked.

“Most of the graves have grass that has grown out over the stone markers. Grass too low for the mower blades, but the grass growing out over Dalton’s father’s grave marker has been trimmed by hand.”

“Maybe the cemetery did it?” Millet asked.

“No,” Colin said. “If they had, there would be a pattern as to which markers had been trimmed. The few that had been clipped

the third coincidence 249

were scattered about the cemetery. They had to have been done by people visiting those graves.”

“Couldn’t it have been someone other than Isaac Dalton?” Rachel asked.

“I suppose it’s possible, but Harry Dalton has only one living rel- ative, his son, Isaac.”

“Okay,” Jack said impatiently, “okay. What are we doing with this information?”

“I’ve got a detail watching the cemetery twenty-four seven,” Colin said. “If Isaac Dalton enters the cemetery, I’ll be called before Dal- ton gets to his father’s grave.”

Jack snatched the beeping cell phone from his belt and held it to his ear.

“Jack. Rex. No dice. No dark-green or any color Explorer with Dalton’s plate number. He could’ve switched plates, but we have nothing that indicates he’s not playing his true identity straight.”

“Either that or he parked away from the airport in one of the economy lots and took their shuttle to the airport,” Jack replied.

“I guess we’re all dressed up with nowhere else to go,” Rex said. “I’ll get back to you.”

“I’m calling the rental house,” Jack told them while dialing. “I want Agent Martin to know we’re on our way.” He spoke into his cell. “We’re about five minutes from you. What’s the status at the house right now?”

“The same as I reported last time,” Martin said. “No one has approached Dalton’s house. The environmental hazard sign keeps the neighborhood curious about this house.”

“We’ll park on the side street and approach Dalton’s home from the south through the trees,” Jack explained. “When we’re in posi- tion, you’ll hear from me or Agent Johnstone. Can you provide a distraction?”

“No problem. The few neighbors still at home watch everything we do. A couple of my guys can make a commotion out front and then leave to the north. That’ll hold the attention of any curious

250 David M. Bishop

neighbors. I’ll have the agents wear an earpiece so I can give them their timing as you give it to me. Let me know when you’re in posi- tion.”

june 21, 10:41 a.m.

“Agent Martin. Rachel Johnstone. We’re in position in the trees. Have your guys do their thing. Keep this line open and stay in com- munication with your agents going outside.”

“Can you see the front of the rental house?”