"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 anything 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 thirtyish, 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."
br /> Boca Raton
October 29
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."
Eve pushed after Nathan through the crowd. Simmons. My God, Simmons...
Thomas Simmons suddenly lifted his head and looked directly at Nathan, who was only a few yards away now.
Nathan smiled. "Hi, could we have a few—"
Simmons turned and dove back into the crowd, pushing people out of his path. As the crowd thinned out down the street, he broke into a run.
"Shit." Nathan took off after him.
Eve tried to run, too, but she was slowed by the crowd until she reached the end of the block. Had they gone around the corner?
Yes, she could see Nathan....
She broke into a sprint.
Almost a block away, Simmons was diving into a beige Toyota.
Nathan's pace increased. "Stop. You can't get away. Let me—"
The Toyota peeled away from the curb and down the street.
Nathan stopped and was cursing a blue streak as he watched the car vanish out of sight.
"It was him, right?" Eve was beside him now. "It was Simmons."
"I think so." Nathan reached in his pocket and took out a notebook. "And I hope to hell I remember that license number." He scrawled down a number on the pad. "Not that it will probably do us any good if it's a rental. Do you think Quinn can check it out?"
She nodded as she took the paper. "But what was he doing here?"
"Who knows? If he did kill those other Cabal members, then he could be picking out his next target. Or he could be following Melton, like I am. Or if he's a total wacko, it could be any reason." He leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. "Jesus, I've got to lose weight. That run almost killed me."
"At least we know he's here."
"Well, he's definitely not a shadow." He wrinkled his nose. "And he's in far better shape than I am." He straightened away from the wall. "Now I've got to get back and wait for Melton to dry his crocodile tears and come out of the church. Coming?"
She shook her head. "I'll phone this license number to Joe and go back to the house."
Lake Cottage Atlanta, Georgia
3:05 p.m. October 29
The funeral service had already started when Galen switched on the television set. Jonathan Andreas, the President, was standing at the podium giving the first eulogy.
Full house, Galen thought, as the camera panned the audience. There must be at least fifteen hundred people at the service. He recognized several dignitaries: Tony Blair, Norman Schwarzkopf, Colin Powell. With this kind of firepower, it would be perfectly reasonable to have—
"Could I see you for a minute, Galen?" David Hughes was standing at the doorway.
"A problem?"
"Maybe." He was frowning. "I just don't understand. It's not right. Come and take a look."
Chapter Twenty
"It's not a local rental car." Joe hung up the phone. "They're running a computer search now. It shouldn't be too long."
Eve frowned. "I hope not. The idea of Simmons hovering makes me very uneasy."
"If we can nail down where he is now, I guarantee he won't ever make you uneasy again."
She had a sudden chilling memory of Joe and Hebert struggling in the mud. "Why do you always think that you're the one who has to—"
Her cell phone rang.
"Saved by the bell," Joe murmured as she pressed the answer button.
"I've found it." Nathan's voice was shaking with excitement. "After the funeral, Melton met with a man outside his hotel. It was at the newsstand and it was only for a few minutes. I knew Melton was going to be surrounded by reporters, so I took a chance and followed the guy."
"Where?"
"Fort Lauderdale Airport."
"What?"
"Well, not actually the airport. There's a deserted naval air station down there. It's being fought over by the local historical society and the airport. It's the base from where those flyers took off in 1945 and were lost in the Bermuda Triangle. There's a big concrete building that is evidently going to be the meeting place. It's enclosed by a chain-link fence, completely private, and guarded by at least five men besides the guy who met with Melton."
"An airport," Eve murmured.
"It's perfect. The members leave Boca separately sometime after the funeral, presumably to fly out to their homes. They congregate at the naval base, have their meeting, and then go on to the airport at a staggered pace and board their flights. Very smart."
"But when?"
"Probably the middle of the night. They'd want the area absolutely deserted. I'll know when Melton moves, and I'll call you. Let me talk to Quinn."
Eve handed the phone to Joe.
He was on the phone for only a few minutes. "I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and turned to Eve. "He wants me to take the surveillance equipment to the naval base and set it up outside the fence. He said there's no way of getting near the building with all those guards, but there's cover close to a drainage ditch a little distance from the base. Shouldn't be a problem. The camera and audio equipment have a range of over a mile."
She nodded. "Let's go."
"Eve."
"Don't you say a word. Ever since I got here I've been twiddling my thumbs, watching all those hypocrites on television tell the world what a fine man just died."
"Some of them were sincere."
"But which ones? I need to find out." Eve headed for the door. "I need the whole damn world to find out." She glanced over her shoulder. "And there's not going to be any leaving me on the roadside or some deserted island. We're in this together. Do you understand?"
"Okay, but we have to—" He broke off as his phone rang. He punched the button. "Quinn." He listened for a moment. "What the hell?" He stiffened. "Plastic?"
Fort Lauderdale Naval Air Station
2:45 A.M. October 30
The windows of the white concrete building were covered so that no light showed from the outside. Guards in dark clothing patrolled the area with Dobermans.
"Here comes the next one," Joe murmured as he focused the video camera. He kept it trained on the dark sedan as the door opened and a man got out. "I recognize this one, too. Big time. Sheikh Hassan Ben Abar."
She nodded. "OPEC."
The last hour had been an incredible parade of well-known whee
ler-dealers from every walk of life. Eve took the listening device from her ear. "I can't hear much right now. It's cutting out. Every time an airplane takes off I get static."
"Have you heard anything interesting?"
"Maybe. It's definitely not small talk, but I'm not a linguist. I need to zero in on a conversation between some of the English members." She adjusted the earpiece, turned one of the knobs on the panel in front on her. "That's better." She listened for a moment. "Something about a gorge. They need a clear majority because it's high risk.... What's high risk, dammit? Talk about it." She switched to another part of the building. "Tarrant, the British media tycoon. He's talking money and the ramifications for the World Bank. He's not sure how they're going to handle the repayments if the regime falls."
"What regime?"
"Shh." She held up her hand, listening. She suddenly stiffened. "Oh, my God."
"Eve?"
She shook her head. Dear God, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Stop shaking. Do your job. Make sure it's being recorded. She glanced at the panel. Yes, it was okay.
Joe frowned. "You're white as a sheet. What the devil are—" He fell silent, watching her.
It was a full ten minutes before she took the earpiece out of her ear. "It's the Three Gorges Dam in China. Do you remember that PBS special we watched last year on the dam being built on the Yangtze River?"
"Yeah. The biggest project since the building of the Great Wall. It's supposed to generate eighteen thousand megawatts of electricity and control flooding."
She nodded. "Three hundred thousand people have died in the last century from the flooding of the Yangtze. It's a killer river." She drew a deep breath. "The dam is the target. They've decided they have to move fast before the first stage is finished. The construction is still in semichaos and will be easy to sabotage right now. But the Chinese government is pulling in the reins, and the security is going to be tightened."
"Sabotage?"
She nodded. "It has to be done before November third, when the increased security is going into effect. That's why they had to make sure to have the meeting no later than the twenty-ninth. As it is, they have only a few days to implement. If they don't get a majority and move fast, then they'll have to wait until the dam is completed and it will be much more difficult." She moistened her lips. "Can you imagine the devastation...?"