Текст книги "Body of Lies "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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“Then you shouldn’t mind telling me.”

“But I do. Life still has to have some mysteries. You’d only fret, and your last moments should be worry-free.”

“You’re not worry-free. Even if you kill me, you’re still going to have to contend with Simmons.”

“I’ll find him. I know who I’m looking for now. It’s difficult for a man to hide in this world, particularly if the Cabal is looking for him.” Hebert’s glance shifted again to the bayou, and he moved to the edge of the platform. “Quinn’s been a long time.

I’m beginning to wonder if I should—”

He shrieked.

A machete blade had bitten through the bone and sinew of the hand holding his gun. The weapon dropped from his almost-severed right hand, and Eve dove across the deck to get it.

“No!” Joe spat out the reed between his teeth. “Stay away from him.” He lunged up from the mud beside the platform, grabbed Hebert’s knees, and jerked him backward into the mud.

Hebert was struggling desperately. She suddenly saw a glint of metal in his left hand.

Oh, God, Hebert had a knife. And Joe had thrown his weapon at him.

Eve lifted the gun to aim at Hebert, but the two men were rolling, sinking, fighting in the watery mud. She might hit Joe.

She jumped off the deck into the mud and waded toward them.

“Joe, get away from him for a minute. I can’t—”

Hebert’s knife was gone, sent spinning into the mud by a blow from the edge of Joe’s hand.

And then Joe was on top of Hebert. His hands closed in a stranglehold on Hebert’s throat. He pushed his head under the mud and held him there. Hebert’s arms and legs flailed helplessly as he struggled for breath. The mud was suffocating him.

“Joe,” Eve whispered.

For an instant she wasn’t sure he had heard her, and when he glanced sideways she flinched at the sheer blind ferocity she saw in his expression.

Joe drew a deep breath, and then his grasp strengthened and she heard a snap as he broke Hebert’s neck.

He released Hebert, stood, and stepped back. “I expected a harder time with him.”

“Why?” Eve drew a shaky breath. “You almost severed his hand when you threw that machete.”

“He was pointing a gun at you.”

She shivered as she stared down at Jules Hebert lying in the mud, his face submerged beneath the surface.

“Did he hurt you?”

Eve turned to look at Joe. Covered with mud, he was still almost as terrifying a figure as the creature that had lunged out of that muck and unleashed a spearhead of death, blood, and violence.

“Dammit, did he hurt you?” Joe repeated.

“He didn’t touch me. How about you?”

“A few bruises. Not that you could tell under all this mud. You’re almost as muddy as I am. Why the hell didn’t you stay out of it?” Because she couldn’t stand by when she saw him in danger. “He had a knife.”

“Did I look like I was helpless?”

No, he had looked absolutely terrifying. She tried to smile. “You reminded me of Swamp Thing.”

“That’s what I feel like.” Joe grasped Eve’s shoulders and glared down at her.

“You listen to me. Never again. This is the last time I’ll let you risk your neck. I can’t take it. Screw women’s lib.“ He turned, waded through the mud toward Hebert’s canoe, and crawled into it. ”I’ll be right back. I’m going to take Hebert’s canoe around the bend to where I left Dufour’s motorboat. We’ll go back to town and clean up.“

“What happened to Dufour?”

“He won’t bother us anymore.”

I was a killing machine. I could be again.

Eve shivered, and her glance shifted to Hebert. “And what will we do about him?”

“Let him rot.” Joe grimaced. “Okay, I know. I’m an insensitive bastard about the dear departed. We’ll tell the police in Houma where we left him.”

“Not yet.”

“No? That’s a surprise.”

“The Cabal doesn’t know that he’s dead and we’re alive. It may buy us time before they send anyone else after us.”

“Did he tell you anything about what was happening in Boca Raton?”

“Not much.” Yet Hebert had said something… Surely there was some fragment of sense in his words that she could examine. “Maybe. He said something about a tiger and us not being able to stop it. That it had all been planned down to the last gasp.” She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. I can’t think.” Joe studied her. “I don’t like the way you’re shaking.”

“I’m just cold.”

“Chilled and shocked and wet to the bone. October is no time to take a mud bath.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a sensitive nerve in my body.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You really aren’t feeling yourself if you’re giving me credit for tender feelings.

I’ve got to get you back to the hotel and a hot shower.” Joe’s paddle cut into the water. “Don’t move a muscle.”

Easy to say. It seemed that every muscle in Eve’s body was trembling with cold and fatigue. She should try to think, but her mind was just as dulled as her body.

Fight it. There wasn’t much time. Try to think what Hebert had said.

Tiger. Something about a tiger and his last gasp. That meant death, a killing. Why couldn’t she remember?

She had to remember, or Hebert’s death would mean nothing. He would still win and the killing would go on.

There wasn’t much time.

Joe turned on the shower and pushed Eve naked under the warm spray. Another moment and he was in the shower with her, soaping her hair with shampoo.

“I can do it. Take care of yourself.”

“Shut up.” He soaped her body from shoulders to feet and then pushed her to the front of the shower to rinse off. “Just stand there and let the water warm you while I get some of the dirt off me.”

“No time. Have to think. Someone’s going to die, Joe.”

“I know. You told me in the boat coming here. Several times.”

“Did I? I hate death. I hate it.”

“I know you do.”

“I don’t understand killers like Hebert. He didn’t care about the death of anyone, except for his brother. It didn’t matter to him about other people who have fathers or brothers or little girls…”

“Shh. Are you warmer now?”

“He was going to kill Jane and my mother. Two wonderful lives just snuffed—”

“Are you warmer?”

He had asked that before. She thought about it. The shaking was gone and so was that icy lethargy. “Yes.”

“Good.” He was out of the shower and reaching for a towel. “Then let’s get you dry and into bed.”

“I can—”

“Hush.”

“You know, I didn’t really believe in the Cabal before I heard Hebert talking about it. It wasn’t real to me. I believe in it now. They’re the ones who pointed Hebert at Jane and my mother and told him to kill them. Someone has to stop them. So much evil…”

“Yes.”

“Jennings said it was right there before him, but he didn’t see it. What didn’t he see, Joe?”

“We’ll figure it out later.” He wrapped her in a dry towel and gently pushed her toward the bedroom. “Climb in bed while I dry off.”

“If it was right there before him, then it was right there before us, too.”

“The only thing right before you is that bed.”

“I can’t go to sleep. I have to put it together.”

“You’re not going to put anything together until you get some rest.” He took her arm and drew her toward the bed. “Come on. I’ll hold you and keep you warm, and you can think your little heart out.” He slipped into bed, pulled her down beside him, and cuddled her close. “Better?”

Better? Warmth and safety against death’s cold inevitability. “Don’t let me go to sleep.”

“No guarantees. You’re on your own. The only promise you’ll get from me is that I’ll always be beside you to wake you in the morning.” Wonderful promise, beautiful promise…

Bittersweet promise.

“You’re stiffening against me,” he said. “Don’t do it. Take this moment, Eve. I want to give it to you.”

And she wanted to take it. She relaxed against him.

“That’s it.”

“This isn’t a good idea.”

“Shh.” He stroked her hair. “Never argue with Swamp Thing.” God, she was actually smiling. Or was she crying? Maybe it was a little of both. “I wouldn’t dream of it. If Swamp Thing will just shut up so I can try to think.”

“That can be arranged.” He kissed her temple. “Close your eyes; it will help you to concentrate.”

He just wanted her to go to sleep.

She was very much afraid he was going to get his wish. Her lids were too heavy to stay open…

No, fight it. Go over everything Nathan and Jennings had told them. Clear her mind and remember everything she’d learned from Hebert in those last moments before Joe had killed him.

And keep her damn eyes open.

HOUMA

3:35 AM.

October

It was right there before me.

There’s nothing you can do about the old tiger.

It’s been timed down to the last gasp.

Royal weddings… The Olympics…

“Oh, my God.” Eve jerked upright in bed. “It’s a funeral, Joe.”

“What?” Joe rose up on one elbow. “What are you talking about?”

“It is a meeting of the Cabal at Boca Raton. But they had to have a reason. No Olympics, no wedding. It’s a funeral. There’s going to be a funeral so important in Boca Raton that it would validate the presence of dignitaries from all over the world.”

Joe nodded slowly. “It’s possible.”

“Why else would the Cabal send their number-one assassin to Boca?” She felt sick.

“Christ, I wonder how many important people have been killed to provide the Cabal a reason to meet.”

“Wait a minute. We’re not sure you’re right.”

“We’re not sure I’m wrong.” Eve swung her feet to the floor. “But Hebert talked as if his target wasn’t dead yet. He said I couldn’t stop it, but that means he’s still alive.

Maybe we can find a way to save him.”

“Providing we can find out who he is.”

“He’s well known enough to attract worldwide notice.” She was thinking quickly.

“Probably not an entertainer or movie star. He lives in Boca Raton and has plans to be buried there. Otherwise the meeting would have been planned for somewhere else.” She reached for her telephone. “What’s Nathan’s cell number?” Joe reached in his pocket and brought out his phone book. “You’re right, Nathan’s a newspaperman. He should be able to track the target down.”

“And he’s in Boca right now.” She was rapidly dialing Nathan’s number. “Which is where we need to be. Will you call and get us reservations out of New Orleans while I talk to Nathan?”

Chapter 19

« ^ »

" CHRIST.” NATHAN WAS SILENT FOR A MOMENT AFTER EVE HAD FINISHED

speaking. “It’s got to be Franklin Copeland.”

Shock rippled through Eve. “What?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t guess. It’s been all over the newspapers and television for the past couple days. The Old Tiger is a sick man.”

“We haven’t been paying any attention to the news.”

“I can see how you’ve been a little busy.”

“Old Tiger,” she repeated. “That’s what Hebert called him.”

“That was Copeland’s nickname when he was a colonel in Vietnam before he became president. War hero, ex-President of the United States, and for the last fifteen years, he’s been known for his work with UNESCO. I’d say he’d warrant a pretty impressive guest list for his funeral.”

“Is he supposed to be buried in Boca?”

“I don’t know. I can find out.” Silence. “Jesus, I met Copeland once when he was lecturing in New Orleans. I liked him. He’s one hell of a guy.” Eve had never met him, but she’d liked what she’d known of him, too. He had seemed a warm, intelligent man with no delusions of grandeur.

“We’re talking as if he’s dead already,” Nathan said. “What the hell can we do to save him?”

“What’s he suffering from?” She inhaled sharply. “Anthrax?”

“No.”

It had been her first thought, connecting Copeland’s illness to the anthrax scare in Boca Raton a year or two ago.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing suspicious. He has heart problems aggravated by severe asthma. The asthma seemed to be pretty well under control for the past couple years, but he’s had several attacks in the past few weeks. He’s been in and out of the hospital three times—the last bout of asthma triggered a heart attack.”

“Asthma… What could trigger an attack? Some kind of poison?”

“Beats me. But the Secret Service should be able to find out, once they know what’s happening. You’re on your way down here?”

“As soon as we can get a plane. Find us a place to stay outside the city. We have to keep a low profile. We don’t want anyone to know Hebert’s dead.”

“That’s smart. Then you’ll want me to go to Copeland’s Secret Service team right away and tell them what we know.”

“Right.”

“I’m on it. Maybe they can save the old guy. Let me know what flight you’re on and I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“God, I hope it’s not too late.” She hung up and turned to Joe. “Franklin Copeland.”

He gave a low whistle. “It would fit. Not only famous, but loved by the masses.”

“And they’re killing him just for an excuse to have a goddamn meeting.” She could feel the tears sting her eyes. “I wish they’d all burn in hell.”

“It must be a pretty important meeting,” he said thoughtfully. “Etienne told Nathan they never meet in person unless something critical is in the balance. I’d be interested in knowing what’s on their agenda.”

“So would I. We’ll find out.” She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat.

“But it’s Copeland who’s important right now. What time can we get out of New Orleans?”

“First flight is ten A.M. to Fort Lauderdale. It’s about a forty-minute drive to Boca.

There’s nothing direct.”

She started for the bathroom. “Then let’s get out of here.” Nathan was waiting for them at the gate. She didn’t have to hear his first sentence.

It was all there in his face.

“Sorry. Copeland died two hours ago.”

Disappointment flooded her. She had been hoping against hope that they could save him. She felt the tears sting her eyes. “I really hoped—”

“Let’s get out of here.” Joe took her arm and guided her down the corridor. “What about the Secret Service? You got through to them?” Nathan nodded. “For all the good it did me. It took me time I didn’t have to convince them they had to take me seriously. They thought I was just some wild-ass reporter trying to drum up a story. Then they called Rusk at the FBI to verify there was an ongoing investigation about the Cabal.”

“Did it help?”

He shook his head. “Rusk was killed in an automobile accident yesterday afternoon on his way home from the office.”

She stiffened in shock. “What?”

“Hit-and-run as he was crossing the street to go to the supermarket.” Another death. No, another murder. Christ, would it never stop? “The Cabal.”

“That’s my guess. First Jennings, and then Rusk. They’re plugging all the possible leaks.”

“They didn’t catch who did it?”

Nathan shook his head. “A witness said the car was an old beat-up Buick. The driver was possibly of Hispanic descent.”

“But the Secret Service had to be suspicious that Rusk had been killed so conveniently.”

“His death could have been unrelated. No one in Rusk’s office knew anything about Copeland or anything that was going on down here.” Evidence gets misplaced… agents have “accidents.” Hebert’s words came back to her with chilling impact.

“So they wouldn’t listen to you,” she said dully.

“I didn’t say that. When they decided there was a small possibility the threat to Copeland could be genuine, they started to move. But it was too late. Copeland was already dead.” He made a face. “I’m feeling guilty as hell I didn’t get them to move faster.”

“I don’t know if we could have done any better,” Eve said. “There’s not even any proof Copeland was the target. Is there going to be an autopsy?” Nathan nodded. “I hope so. I believe I convinced Copeland’s Secret Service agent Wilson to do it. But any investigation will be done very discreetly. They don’t want either his family or his high-powered friends to be on the attack if they find my story is bullshit. They want Copeland’s death to be as dignified as his life.”

“So the funeral will go on.”

Nathan nodded. “So it seems.”

“And the Cabal has what it wants.”

“At least the Secret Service knows that they may be meeting here.” Nathan opened the passenger door of a gray Chevrolet rental car. “That could lead to something.”

“Except they don’t know who they’re looking for.” Eve got into the car. “And if they don’t find any evidence Copeland was murdered, it may stop right there.”

“But we know one member of the Cabal who will be here,” Joe said. “Melton.” Eve shook her head. “If he even comes. Hebert said he was scared shitless that he’d be targeted by Thomas Simmons. Melton suspected that the deaths of three Cabal members from his state weren’t the accidents they appeared. Melton thought he’d be next.”

“A meeting of the Cabal probably doesn’t happen that often, and it seems to be a pretty big deal,” Joe said. “I imagine Melton would have to have cast-iron proof there was a threat to his life to be excused from coming.”

“That’s what I thought.” Nathan backed out of the parking space. “So we still have a ball game. We trail Melton until we find out where they’re meeting, and then have the FBI close in.”

Eve shook her head. “What good would that do? These are important people, leading citizens of their countries. How can we prove they’re doing anything illegal?

Do you think the FBI is going to take any action? It’s our word against theirs.“ Nathan’s lips tightened. “I’m not going to let it go. I’ve been cooling my heels down here, searching for the Cabal, searching for Simmons, and now I have a lead.

Okay, we may not be able to call in the big guns. But we can shine a bright light on their damn secret society. We can get names and faces.”

“And maybe something more concrete,” Joe said thoughtfully. “Long-range listening devices. Videos. Photographs. ”

“Their security has got to be fairly ironclad,” Eve said. “It will be difficult to get that close.”

“Their top man, Hebert, isn’t on the scene. That may give us a little opening.”

“I doubt it. They wouldn’t rely exclusively on Hebert. And they’re going to be suspicious when they can’t contact him. It might make them be even more careful.” Nathan looked at Eve. “Are you saying you want to bow out?”

“No way. I’m just telling it the way I see it. We may not get everything we want, but I’ll take whatever we can get.”

Nathan smiled. “And, like Quinn said, it may be more than we think. I may get my Pulitzer after all.”

The small, white beach house to which Nathan took them was a few miles outside the city. “This is the best I could do in the short time I had. I handled the rental over the phone with a broker.”

“It will be fine.” Eve got out of the car. “As long as it’s private.”

“I’ll just take a look around the grounds. Be with you in a minute.” Joe strode around the house and down to the shore.

“The key should be under the palm tree in a lock-box…” Nathan found the box, pressed the combination, and unlocked the front door. “You go inside. I’ll see if I can do anything to help Quinn check out the area.”

“He doesn’t need help.”

“I’ll do it anyway. I’m feeling responsible, since Galen isn’t underfoot.” He added fervently, “Thank God.”

Eve wearily shook her head as she closed the door. All this concern for her safety, and yet no one had been able to keep that poor old man safe. Not even his Secret Service guards. How had Hebert managed to kill him?

She crossed the room and turned on the TV set to CNN.

Franklin Copeland’s face appeared on the screen. They were running an obituary segment and she sank down on the couch to watch it. His wife, Lily, was still alive, and they showed her at the hospital when Copeland had suffered a heart attack a few weeks ago. She was a thin, elegant woman in her seventies; the bond between husband and wife was clear. Toward the end of the obituary they listed Copeland’s many accomplishments and works for charity. It was an impressive list. She hadn’t been aware that he was involved with Habitat for Humanity. She hadn’t paid much attention to the details of the man’s life.

But she’d damn well pay attention to his death.

Nathan and Joe came into the house a few minutes later. Joe dropped down on the couch beside Eve. “Anything?”

“The funeral is going to be at St. Catherine’s Cathedral day after tomorrow.”

“October twenty-ninth,” Joe said.

“Right on schedule.” She nodded at a TV shot of Kim Basinger getting on a plane in Los Angeles. “She traveled to Africa with Copeland for UNESCO. She’s on her way to the funeral.”

“I doubt if she’s one of the Cabal,” Nathan said dryly.

“Before her they showed James Tarrant, the British media mogul, hurrying from a meeting in London to the airport. He was quoted as saying the world had lost a great man, and he was going to pay homage.”

“Touching,” Joe said.

Nathan nodded. “It’s going to be hard to separate the gold from the dross. But Melton may be the key.” He turned to leave. “I’m going to the local newspaper office to see if I can find out when Melton is due to show up on the scene. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“And we need some photos of Thomas Simmons. Can you get them for us?”

“Ah, the shadow man.”

It was an apt description, Eve thought. Simmons had been lurking in the darkness all along, overshadowed by Hebert’s looming menace. “That ‘shadow man’ tried to kill me, and evidently has killed at least three Cabal members. I want to be able to recognize him.”

“I’m one step ahead of you. When I first came down here, I went on the Internet to the Cal Tech site and pulled off a staff picture and one from the college newspaper.

I’ll make a couple copies for you and Quinn.”

“What was the name of Copeland’s Secret Service agent you talked to? Wilson?” Joe asked. “It’s a little soon, but I’m going to see if they found out anything from the autopsy yet.”

“Yeah, Pete Wilson.” Nathan grimaced. “I hope you have better luck with him than I did.” The door shut behind him.

Eve looked at Joe. “What next?”

“We need a car. We need surveillance equipment. We obviously need information.

With any luck Nathan will supply the info. I’d better get busy on the rest.”

“Wait.” She hesitated. “Let’s call Galen.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to protest. “Among other things, Galen is a provider, and he does the job very well. He has contacts everywhere. I’ll bet he could pick up a phone and get us anything from a space suit to an atomic bomb. We need him, Joe.”

“We don’t need him.” He hesitated and then grimaced. “But we could use him.” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I can work with him. He brought me into the picture in Baton Rouge because our personal differences didn’t mean a damn to him if it meant keeping you safe. They can’t matter to me, either. Do you want to call him, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Joe headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee and then call Wilson and the precinct to find out if Carol’s seen any forensic reports yet.” Eve nodded absently as she dialed Galen’s number.

“Hebert’s dead? Hallelujah,” Galen said when she’d finished filling him in. “And what an interesting way for Quinn to kill him. I approve.”

“I’m sure that will make him happy. Can you get us the items we need? It would be better if the Cabal doesn’t know Joe and I are still alive.”

“Piece of cake. Give me your address and phone number.”

“I don’t know what—” She saw the number on the phone and rattled it off, and then checked the address on the mailbox outside.

“Good.” Galen said. “I’m moving. I think Jonas Faber is still in Orlando. He can help.”

“Who’s Jonas Faber?”

“Ask him no questions, he’ll tell you no lies. Just accept that he can produce. And I’ll work on finding out where the meeting will be.”

“Nathan’s already on Melton.”

“Don’t send a boy to do a man’s job. I’ll get on the tech stuff right away.” He hung up.

“Well?” Joe stood in the kitchen doorway.

“He said he’s moving. Did you find out smything from Wilson?” Joe shook his head. “No autopsy.”

“What?”

“The attending doctor said he knew exactly why Copeland died, and it was natural causes. He was allergic to mold, and lately the allergy had increased to a dangerous degree. He was tested a number of times in the hospital and it was always the same problem. They did everything to maintain sterile surroundings and keep mold away from him, but he refused to leave his home here in Florida or live in a bubble. Mold is everywhere down here.”

“An autopsy might show something else.”

He shook his head again. “He’s not about to disturb the family without concrete proof. The body could always be exhumed if the investigation proved he had been murdered.”

A black Chevrolet rental SUV was delivered to the door two hours later.

After dinner that night they received a phone call and then a visit from Jonas Faber. He was a small, cheerful little man who asked Joe very politely to accompany him to his van.

Joe came back twenty minutes later shaking his head.

“Something wrong?”

“Not if I want to open a spy shop or start trading in small arms. The FBI doesn’t have as sophisticated surveillance equipment as Faber brought us. He parked a damn tech van in our backyard.” He smiled. “Complete with tutorial. He’s not going to let me go until he’s sure I know how to operate every single camera and piece of equipment. He even wanted to show me how to use an AK-seven. I told him I wasn’t exactly an amateur with firearms.”

A tech van? She had only asked for surveillance equipment. “It seems when Galen said he was moving, he meant it.”

Nathan called an hour later. “Melton is in Boca. He arrived two hours ago, and went directly to Copeland’s home to pay his respects to the widow. Bastard.”

“You’re following him?”

“Every step.”

“Be careful.”

“Hey, no problem. I value my neck.”

“I have a favor to ask. I’m going to the funeral service day after tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I want to be there. I want to look at every person who goes into the church and be able to recognize them later. Will you find me a black hat with a dark veil?”

“You probably aren’t going to accomplish anything by going.” She knew that. She also knew that she wanted to pay her last respects to Copeland in person. He had been a great man, and along with regret she felt a sense of…

connection. “It can’t hurt. I don’t want to sit here and do nothing. Joe’s going to be busy familiarizing himself with that surveillance equipment.”

“You’ll have to stay out with the crowd in the street. You have to be on the A-list to get inside.”

“I’m going to be there.”

“Okay. I’ll drop your hat and Simmons’s photos by the house after I’m sure Melton’s tucked into his hotel for the night.”

“Here’s your black hat.” Nathan handed her a plastic bag. “It wasn’t easy. The regular stores were closed, so I went to an all-night drugstore and bought a black straw beach hat and a black sheer scarf. You’ll have to rig a veil out of that.”

“I’ll manage. Thanks, Nathan.”

“No problem.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Simmons.” She drew out the pictures. One was an informal photo taken in front of a building.

The other was a close-up in the college newspaper at the time Simmons had been hired by Cal Tech. Professor Thomas Simmons was thir-tyish, with regular features except for a slightly pouty lower lip. He was wearing horn-rimmed glasses and smiling confidently into the camera. “Nice-looking. It’s hard to believe he’s a murderer.”

“Maybe he popped his cork when the Cabal tried to blow him up.” Nathan looked around the room. “Where’s Quinn?”

“Out back in the tech van.” She made a face. “He’s fascinated by all that equipment. He’s decided to make me the audio tech.”

“Pretty complex stuff.”

“Not really. Faber made sure it was user-friendly.”

“Well, then, I’d better get back to the hotel and keep an eye on Melton so that you’ll have something to record.” He turned to leave. “I’ll keep in touch, but I’m going to stick close as glue to Melton now that he’s on the scene. I’ll meet you day after tomorrow in front of the church.”

“Right.” After the door closed behind Nathan, Eve took the hat and scarf out of the plastic bag. Both items were cheap and flimsy, but it didn’t matter. They would keep her from being recognized and wouldn’t appear out of place.

“Did Nathan bring the photo?”

She turned to see Joe standing in the kitchen doorway. “Two.” She held out the envelope. “Finished for the night?”

He shook his head absently as he gazed at the photos.

“Clean-cut. I told Nathan that it was hard to believe he was a murderer.”

“I’m not having any trouble. But I’ve seen more murderers than you have.”

“Maybe I’m just confused by this whole scenario,” Eve said wearily. “Thomas Simmons was probably a very good man with a wonderful future. Now his life’s been twisted out of shape and he’s become a killer. It’s difficult to understand.”

“Not to me. Killing is a choice. You make a decision and then you weigh the consequences. I’m a cop, but I have no problem scraping up the remains of some of the scum out there on the streets.” He jammed the pictures in his pocket and turned away. “But he made the wrong choice when he tried to kill you.” BOCA RATON

October

The crowds were six deep on the roped-off streets outside St. Catherine’s Cathedral. It took Eve a few minutes to locate Nathan standing near the back of the throng and then make her way toward him.

“Eve?” Nathan peered at her features through the dark veil.

She nodded. “Is Melton inside?”

“Thirty minutes ago. He probably wanted to get his share of the limelight before the President arrived.”

“The President is here?”

“Arrived ten minutes ago.” Nathan nodded at four dark-suited men in sunglasses, standing on the steps. “Secret Service.”

“I hope they can protect the President. They didn’t do a very good job with Copeland.” She stared at the door of the church. “I’m glad President Andreas is here.

Copeland deserves all the honors he can get.”

“You’re taking this very personally.”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m feeling a little guilty. If I’d figured out the situation here sooner, maybe we could have saved Copeland.”

“And maybe not. You didn’t know that Hebert was targeting Copeland until it was almost certainly too late for him.”

“Minutes can matter when a man is dying.” She watched blindly as limousine after limousine pulled up before the church and deposited their passengers. “I don’t know if– My God.” She grabbed Nathan’s arm. “Tell me I’m crazy. Is that Thomas Simmons?”

Nathan stiffened. “Where?”

“Across the street. Green polo shirt. Hell, he’s not three yards from that Secret Service man.” Her gaze clung to the man staring intently at the arriving guests. Same pouty lips, same horn-rimmed glasses… “It is him, Nathan.”

“If not, it’s his double.” Nathan was edging toward the front of the crowd. “Let’s see if we can get closer.”