按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
ably Fletcher Coal； wanted the world to know that Khamel had emerged as a suspect； and that he was an Arab of all things； and had close ties to Libya and Iran and Iraq； countries led by fiery idiots who hated America。 Someone in the White House of Fools wanted the story on the front page。
But it was a helluva story and it was front…page news。 He and Smith Keen had it finished by nine。 They found two old pictures of a man widely believed to be Khamel； but so dissimilar they appeared to be of different people。 Keen said run both of them。 The file on Khamel was thin。 Much rumor and legend； but little meat。 Grantham mentioned the Pope； the British diplomat； the German banker； and the ambush of the Israeli soldiers。 And now； according to a confidential source at the White House； a most reliable and trusted source； Khamel was a suspect in the killings of Justices Rosenberg and Jensen。
* * *
TWENTY…FOUR HOURS after hitting the street； she was still alive。 If she could make it to morning； she could start another day with new ideas about what to do and where to go。 For now； she was tired。 She was in a room on the fifteenth floor of the Marriott； with the door bolted； lights on； and the mighty can of Mace lying on the bedspread。 Her thick； dark red hair was now in a paper sack in the closet。 The last time she cut her hair she was three years old； and her mother whipped her tail。
It took two painful hours with dull scissors to cut it off yet leave some semblance of style。 She would keep it under a cap or hat until who knows when。 It took another two hours to color it black。 She could've bleached it and gone blonde； but that would be obvious。 She assumed she was dealing with professionals； and for some unfathomable reason she determined at the drugstore that they might expect her to do this and bee a blonde。 And what the hell。 The stuff came in a bottle； and if she woke up tomorrow with a wild hair she could go blonde。 The chameleon strategy。 Change colors every day and drive 'em crazy。 Clairol had at least eighty…five shades。
She was dead tired but afraid of sleep。 She had not seen her friend from the Sheraton during the day； but the more she moved around the more the faces looked the same。 He was out there； she knew。 And he had friends。 If they could assassinate Rosenberg and Jensen； and knock off Thomas Callahan； she would be easy。
She couldn't go near her car； and she didn't want to rent one。 Rentals leave records。 And they were probably watching。 She could fly； but they were stalking the airports。 Take a bus； but she'd never bought a ticket or seen the inside of a Greyhound。
And after they realized she had disappeared； they would expect her to run。 She was just an amateur； a little college girl brokenhearted after watching her man blown to bits and fried。 She would make a mad dash somewhere； get out of the city； and they would pick her off。
She rather liked the city at this moment。 It had a million hotel rooms； almost as many alleys and dives and bars； and it always had crowds of people strolling along Bourbon； Chartres； Dauphine； and Royal。 She knew it well； especially the Quarter； where life was within walking distance。 She would move from hotel to hotel for a few days； until when？ She didn't know when。 She didn't know why。 Moving just seemed intelligent under the circumstances。 She would stay off the streets in the mornings； and try to sleep then。 She would change clothes and hats and sunglasses。 She would start smoking； and keep one in her face。 She would move until she got tired of moving； then she might leave。 It was okay to be scared。 She had to keep thinking。 She would survive。
She thought of calling the cops； but not now。 They took names and kept records； and they could be dangerous。 She thought of calling Thomas' brother in Mobile； but there wasn't a single thing the poor man could do to help her at this moment。 She thought of calling the dean； but how could she explain the brief； Gavin Verheek； the FBI； the car bomb； Rosenberg and Jensen； and her on the run and make it sound believable。 Forget the dean。 She didn't like him anyway。 She thought of calling a couple of friends from law school； but people talk； and people listen； and they could be out there listening to the people talking about poor Callahan。 She wanted to talk to Alice Stark； her best friend。 Alice was worried； and Alice would go to the cops and tell them her friend Darby Shaw was missing。 She would call Alice tomorrow。
She dialed room service； and ordered a Mexican salad and a bottle of red wine。 She would drink all of it； then sit in a chair with the Mace and watch the door until she fell asleep。
GMINSKI'S LIMO made a wild U…turn on Canal as if it owned the street； and came to a sudden stop in front of the Sheraton。 Both rear doors flew open。 Gminski was out first； followed quickly by three aides who scurried after him with bags and briefcases。
It was almost 2 A。M。； and the Director was obviously in a hurry。 He did not stop at the front desk； but went straight for the elevators。 The aides ran behind him and held the elevator door for him； and no one spoke as they rode up six floors。
Three of his agents were waiting in a corner room。 One of them opened the door； and Gminski barged through it without any sort of greeting。 The aides threw the bags on one bed。 The Director yanked off his jacket and threw it in a chair。
〃Where is she？〃 he snapped at an agent by the name of Hooten。 The one named Swank opened the curtains； and Gminski walked to the window。
Swank was pointing to the Marriott； across the street and down a block。 〃She's on the fifteenth floor； third room from the street； lights are still on。〃
Gminski stared at the Marriott。 〃You're certain？〃
〃Yes。 We saw her go in； and she paid with a credit card。〃
〃Poor kid；〃 Gminski said as he walked away from the window。 〃Where was she last night？〃
〃Holiday Inn on Royal。 Paid with a credit card。〃
〃Have you seen anyone following her？〃 the Director asked。
〃No。〃
〃I need some water；〃 he said to an aide； who jumped toward the ice bucket and rattled cubes。
Gminski sat on the edge of the bed； laced his fingers together； and cracked every possible knuckle。 〃What do you think？〃 he asked Hooten； the oldest of the three agents。
〃They're chasing her。 They're looking under rocks。 She's using credit cards。 She'll be dead in forty…eight hours。〃
〃She's not pletely stupid；〃 Swank inserted。 〃She cut her hair and colored it black。 She's moving around。 It's apparent she has no plans to leave the city any time soon。 I'll give her seventy…two hours before they find her。〃
Gminski sipped his water。 〃This means her little brief is directly on point。 And it means our friend is now a very desperate man。 Where is he？〃
Hooten answered quickly。 〃We have no idea。〃
〃We have to find him。〃
〃He hasn't been seen in three weeks。〃
Gminski set the glass on the desk； and picked up a room key。 〃So what do you think？〃 he asked Hooten。
〃Do we bring her in？〃 Hooten asked。
〃It won't be easy；〃 Swank said。 〃She may have a gun。 Someone could get hurt。〃
〃She's a scared kid；〃 Gminski said。 〃She's also a civilian； not a member。 We can't go around snatching civilians off the sidewalk。〃
〃Then she won't last long；〃 Swank said。
〃How do you take her？〃 Gminski asked。
〃There are ways；〃 Hooten answered。 〃Catch her on the street。 Go to her room。 I could be inside her room in less than ten minutes if I left right now。 It's not that difficult。 She's not a pro。〃
Gminski paced slowly around the room and everyone watched him。 He glanced at his watch。〃I'm not inclined to take her。 Let's sleep four hours； and meet here at six…thirty。 Sleep on it。 If you can convince me to snatch her； then I'll say do it。 Okay？〃 They nodded obediently。
* * *
THE WINE WORKED。 She dozed in the chair； then made it to the bed and slept hard。 The phone was ringing。 The bedspread was hanging to the floor； and her feet were on the pillows。 The phone was ringing。 The eyelids were glued together。 The mind was numb and lost in dreams； but somewhere in the deep recesses something worked and told her the phone was ringing。
The eyes opened but saw little。 The sun was up； the lights were on； and she stared at the phone。 No； she did not ask for a wake…up call。 She thought about this for a second； then she was certain。 No wake…up call。 She sat on the edge of the bed and listened to it ring。 Five times； ten； fifteen； twenty。 It would not stop。 Could be a wrong number； but they would stop after twenty rings。
It was not a wrong number。 The cobwebs began to clear； and she moved closer to the phone。 With the exception of the registration clerk and maybe his boss； and perhaps room service； not a single living soul knew she was in this room。 She had ordered food； but made no other calls。
It stopped ringing。 Good； wrong number。 She walked to the bathroom； and it was ringing again。 She counted。 After the fourteenth ring； she lifted the receiver。〃 Hello。〃
〃Darby； it's Gavin Verheek。 Are you okay？〃
She sat on the bed。 〃How'd you get the number？〃
〃We have ways。 Listen； have〃
〃Wait； Gavin。 Wait a minute。 Let me think。 The credit card； right？〃
〃Yes。 The credit card。 The paper trail。 It's the FBI； Darby。 We have ways。 If'snot that difficult。〃
〃Then they could do it too。〃
〃I suppose。 Stay in the small joints and pay with cash。〃
There was a thick knot in her stomach； and she stretched on the bed。 Just like that。 Not difficult。 The paper trail。 She could be dead。 Killed along the paper trail。
〃Darby； are you there？〃
〃Yes。〃 She looked at the door to make sure it was chained。 〃Yes； I'm here。〃
〃Are you safe？〃
〃I thought so。〃
〃We've got some information。 There will be a memorial service tomorrow at three on campus； with burial afterward in the city。 I've talked to his brother； and the family wants me to serve as a pallbearer。 I'll be there tonight。 I think we should meet。〃
〃Why should we meet？〃
〃You've got to trust me； Darby。 Your life is in danger right now； and you need to listen to me。〃
〃What're you guys up to？〃
〃There was a pause。What do you mean？〃
〃What did Director Voyles say？〃
〃I haven't talked to him。〃
〃I thought you were his attorney； so to speak。 What's the matter； Gavin？〃
〃We're taking no action at this time。〃
〃And what might that mean； Gavin？ Talk to me。〃
〃That's why we need to meet。 I don't want to do this over the phone。〃
〃The phone is working fine； and it's all you're going to get right now。 So let's have it； Gavin。〃
〃Why won't you trust me？〃 He was wounded。
〃I'm hanging up； okay。 I don't like this。 If you guys know where I am； then someone could be out there in the hallway waiting。〃
〃Nonsense； Darby。 You've got to use your head。 I've had your room number for an hour； and done nothing but call。 We're on your side； I swear。〃
〃She thought about this。 It made sense； but they had found her so easily。 〃I'm listening。 You haven't talked to the Director； but the FBI's taking no action。 Why not？〃
〃I'm not sure。 He made the decision yesterday to back off the pelican brief； and gave instructions to leave it alone。 That's all I can tell you。〃
〃That's not very much。 Does he know about Thomas？ Does he know that I'm supposed to be dead because I wrote it and forty…eight hours after Thomas gave it to you； his old buddy from law school； they； whoever in hell they are； tried to kill both of us？ Does he know all this； Gavin？〃
〃I don't think so。〃
〃That means no； doesn't it？〃
〃Yes。 It means no。〃
〃Okay； listen to me。 Do you think he was killed because of the brief？〃
〃Probably。〃
〃That mea