The Columbus Code (8 page)

“I have no idea,” Elena said. “I didn't see him when we came in.”

“He's so . . . mysterious.”

Elena gave a soft grunt. “There was no mystery about that conversation. He wants to take you out.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“No, I think he came in here specifically to ask you to dinner.”

Maria pulled in her chin. “You're not serious. Are you saying he followed us?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Not
necessarily?”

The blotches were beginning to bloom on Elena's face again. “All I'm saying is that
Señor
Tejada doesn't waste his time. He might seem polite—he is—but everything he does has a motive.”

Maria felt her eyes narrow. “You mean he wants to use me for something?”

“I mean he didn't just stumble in here and ask you to dinner. That's all.”

“That's kind of creepy,” Maria said.

Elena tilted her head. “‘Creepy' is not a word I would use to describe him.”

“So . . . if he had asked
you
to dinner, you would have accepted?”

“Completely moot point,” Elena said. “I am not in his class. Shall we order our next course?”

“Let's have that wonderful thing with all the mussels in it,” Maria said. “And by the way, you have more class than just about any woman I know.”

Maria was packing her briefcase when Snowden stopped by her office. Elena had offered to take her out to a few clubs, but Maria declined, preferring to continue working in her hotel room. The details of the Belgian acquisition were mind-boggling.

Tell me you don't have another file for me
, she wanted to say to him.
Instead she pushed her hair back over her shoulder and smiled. “More work?”

“No. Just thought I'd check in.” He lowered himself into the chair opposite the desk in her temporary office, which was twice as large as her permanent one in DC. He sat back and folded his hands as if they were about to have a father-daughter chat.

Maria's antennae went up. Snowden didn't “just check in” and the closest thing he came to paternal was when he handed out the holiday bonus checks.

“I understand you ran into
Señor
Tejada this afternoon,” he said.

The antennae rose further. “Word travels fast. He told you I was having the snails?”

“He didn't tell me anything. Molina did.”

Maria zipped her briefcase and tried not to look startled. She had never exchanged a word with Tejada's security guy, but now he was passing on information about her as if she were somehow
his
concern
?

“Don't get all worked up about it,” Snowden said.

“I'm not getting worked up.”

“He only mentioned that he saw you—”

“And?”

“And he said you declined a dinner invitation from Mr. Tejada.”

“What is this, middle school?” Maria raked a hand through her hair. “Ooh, did Tejada ask Molina to ask you to find out if I like him?”

Snowden's eyebrows ran together. “You have to be careful here, Maria. We can't afford to make a social faux pas.”

“‘We,' sir?” Maria said. “Don't you mean me?”

Snowden rearranged himself in the chair. “I don't think it would hurt our relationship with Catalonia for you to let
Señor
Tejada show you his favorite restaurant.”

Maria had to bite down on her lip to keep from saying,
What am I, a call girl now?
She took in a long breath and stared at the El Greco print on the wall before she said, “If
Señor
Tejada wants to take all of us out to his favorite dining destination, I'm all for that. But the two of us sharing suckling pig by candlelight—I don't think so. Not unless you have something specific related to the acquisition you want me to discuss with him, in which case Elena and I can meet with him in his office.”

Snowden looked a little stunned, which irritated her more than anything. She'd worked with him for nine months and he still knew virtually nothing about her as a person.

He sat for a moment longer. She wondered if he was trying to decide what message to give Molina for Tejada.
Pass him a note in the locker room
, she wanted to say.

He left before she was tempted to actually say it.

Winters was concentrating on an article Sophia Conte had e-mailed when his doorbell rang. He peered through the peephole.

Donleavy.

He hesitated. They'd talked on the phone a few times after the raid. Gone for coffee once. They hadn't clicked like they used to, and he toyed now with the idea of not answering.

“Winters? Hey, buddy, I was in the neighborhood—”

Oh, for Pete's sake.

Winters pulled the door open. “Don't quit your day job, Donleavy,” he said to his startled face. “That's the worst line since ‘Come here often?'”

“What?” Donleavy said.

Winters let him in. “How could you possibly just be in the neighborhood? You live at the other end of town.”

Donleavy's shaved head turned red. “Okay, you found me out.” He shrugged. “I just miss you, man.”

Winters nodded. “You want coffee?”

“Is it made?”

“It's always made. Come on in.”

Winters went to the kitchen and turned on the Keurig. Donleavy followed him and parked himself at the table where Winters had been working with his laptop. “What's all this?”

“Just some work I'm doing to pass the time.”

Donleavy turned a book on its side to check the cover. “You taking a course or something?”

“Something like that. You still take half cream, half coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know why you even bother.”

Winters opened the refrigerator and pulled out the half-and-half. When he closed it, Donleavy was looking at him, eyes drooping at the corners.

“What?” Winters said.

“I don't know. We used to talk, that's all.” Donleavy spread a long-fingered hand over the piles of papers and books on the table. “You're obviously heavy into something here.”

Winters sighed and put a full mug in front of him. “It's some genealogical stuff I'm doing. Laugh and I'll slug you.”

“What am I going to laugh at?”

Winters put his own lukewarm cup in the microwave and, leaning on the chair opposite Donleavy, told him what he knew so far. As he should have expected, Donleavy was far from incredulous. He was a portrait of fascination. Once a geek, always a geek.

“So, no link to your family yet,” he said.

Winters shook his head. “But the stuff I'm learning about Columbus is pretty interesting. Not at all what they taught us in school.”

“Nothing they taught us in school was interesting.”

“Or necessarily true. You know the whole thing about the
Niña
, the
Pinta
, and the
Santa Maria
?”

“The three ships the king and queen gave him.”

“They only gave him two. He had to provide the third one himself. Established shippers didn't want him to take the trip and made it as hard for him as possible. They were actually afraid he'd find a quicker route to Asia.”

“I thought they
wanted
a quicker route. That doesn't make sense.” Donleavy wiggled his eyebrows. He loved things that didn't make sense.

“They controlled the known routes,” Winters said, “which gave them a monopoly on Eastern trade. Since they refused to help, Columbus turned to another group of guys.” He stood and reached for the microwave. “You really interested in this?”

“Do I look bored to you?”

Winters knew what bored looked like on Donleavy. And this wasn't it. He sat down and continued, glancing at the legal pad on the table. “Luis de Santángel, Gabriel Sanchez, and Don Isaac Abrabanel gave him an interest-free loan of seventeen thousand ducats. Close to two million dollars in today's money.”

“Impressive.” Donleavy leafed through one of the books. “You get all that info out of here?”

“No. I've been e-mailing a professor. Genealogist type in Barcelona.”

“He an expert?”

“She.”

“Ahhhhh.”

Winters shook his head at the grin in Donleavy's eyes. “There's no ‘ahhh.' She's a resource. I'm Skyping with her tonight.”

“Good to see you getting out.”

“Shut up, Donleavy.”

Winters let him take a few more sips before he leaned across the
table. “Okay, so now you want to tell me what you're really doing here?”

The bald head went crimson again. “What makes you think—”

“I haven't totally lost my touch,” Winters said. “You never leave your lab in the middle of a workday. You never come over here unless I invite you. And you might be a geek, but nobody cares this much about Christopher Columbus except me and the professor. So what's going on?”

Donleavy ran his hand across the back of his head. “Rebhorn wanted me to talk to you. Not that I didn't want to see you, man, because—”

“Talk to me about what?” Winters knew his tone was testy but right then he didn't much care.

“It's about your brother,” Donleavy said.

Not what he expected. At all. “What about him?”

“He's been calling the office, bugging anybody he can get to.”

“About re-interviewing.”

Donleavy nodded. “Everybody's been told not to take his calls.
He's
been told not to
make
any more calls, but his number comes up on an average of twelve times a day.”

Winters was sure he'd calculated it.

“Rebhorn wants you to tell him to back off,” Donleavy said. “Otherwise they're going to issue a restraining order against him.”

“I'll talk to him, see what I can do.” Winters zoned his eyes in on Donleavy's. “Why didn't Rebhorn call me himself?”

Donleavy shrugged. “He knows we're friends—”

“Don't play that with me, buddy. Why didn't he call me?”

“You really going to make me answer that question?”

Winters stood and looked away. “He thinks I'll blow up at him.
He told Archer I had an ‘emotional breakdown.' That's what he's afraid of.”

“He didn't say.”

“It's okay. I know.” Winters went back to the table. “What about you? Do you think I'm crazy?”

“No! Nobody thinks you're crazy, man.”

“What word is he using then?”

Donleavy stared at his hands.

Winters knew he'd pushed him far enough. “Look, I appreciate you coming by, seriously. I'll talk to Ben, get him to leave everybody alone.” He stood up straight. “Do me a favor, will you?”

“Sure, buddy.”

“Tell Rebhorn I'm not unstable. I think that's probably the word he's using.”

“Sure,” Donleavy said. But he didn't meet Winters' eyes.

Winters wasn't in the mood to Skype with Sophia Conte at 2 a.m. It wasn't that he'd rather be asleep—he wasn't doing much of that anyway. But after Donleavy's visit, it was hard to care about Columbus or his ancestry or anything except the rumors being passed around about him at the office. Winters was writing an e-mail to Conte to cancel their appointment when Skype signaled an incoming video call. Okay, so he would keep it short.