Stuart Woods: D.C. Dead

“‘White House Chief of Staff Tim Coleman said that the White House concurs with the results of the investigation and will have nothing further to say on the subject. Assistant Director Bach said,”Our investigation is closed, and the FBI will have no further comment.”’”

“So they hung it on Charlotte, after all,” Holly said.

IT WAS NEARLY eight o’clock when Shelley bustled into the suite. “God in Heaven,” she said, dropping her large handbag on the desk, “my cell phone hasn’t stopped since the release hit.” As if to confirm this, a sound like an old-fashioned telephone was emitted from the bag. Shelley, rummaging inside, came up with the phone and switched it off. “Now,” she said, “the media can go straight to voice mail!”

Dino poured a scotch and handed it to her. “I think you need this.ith she

“Thank you, I certainly do,” she said, downing half of the brown whiskey in one gulp.

“Let me give you the other half of that,” Dino said, taking her glass from her. He replenished it, then returned it to her fist.

She downed half of that, too.

“Easy,” Stone said. “We don’t want to have to send you home in an ambulance.”

“It’s the only thing that will simultaneously stop the adrenaline and restore the soul,” she said. “I’ve been fielding phone calls for three hours, always saying ‘no comment’ in one way or another. These people are relentless.”

“Let’s get some food into you,” Stone said, handing out menus.

“First, I have to spend ten minutes in the ladies’,” Shelley said, “if you will excuse me.” She got up and left the room, taking the remainder of her scotch with her.

“That is one frazzled girl,” Holly said. “But by morning, it will be over, and her life will return to normal.” Holly’s cell phone began to ring.

“And when will your life return to normal?” Stone asked.

Holly checked the calling number. “It’s my office,” she said. “I have to take this.” She pressed a button. “Hello?” She listened for a moment. “Where is it?” She listened again. “Hang on.” She covered the receiver with her hand. “It’s our Tech Services,” she said. “They’ve got another hit on Fair Sutherlin’s cell phone.”

“Oh, no,” Dino said, putting his face in his hands.

“Where is it?” Stone asked wearily.

Holly turned back to her phone. “Where? At Sixteenth and H Streets?”

“That sounds familiar,” Stone said.

“It’s the Hay-Adams Hotel.”

Stone stared at her. “Here?”

Holly went back to her phone. “Call the number,” she said, then waited.

Stone and Dino waited, too.

Then, faintly, from across the room, came the tinny, electronic sound of a band playing “The Stars and Stripes Forever,” by John Philip Sousa.

The three of them turned and stared at Shelley Bach’s handbag.

Todd Bacon sat at his desk, working. he continued until eight P.M., when most of the staff in his department had left the building. Todd tidied his desk, locked his case files in his safe, then took a walk around Technical Services. The only people working were on computers, seemingly tracking a cell phone location.

Todd walked to the weapons room, responsibility for the securing of which was his, as the senior officer present. He went into the vault and picked up an ordinary-looking briefcase. He set it on the steel table in the middle of the room and opened it, checked the contents carefully, then he took two loaded magazines from a shelf, put them into the briefcase, closed the door behind him, and turned the combination lock.

He switched off the overhead lights, put on his jacket, and left the department, then the building. He drove out of the Agency grounds and headed for the southeastern side of the Distri lict of Columbia, setting Clinton Field into the navigator, since he had never driven there. It would take him the better part of an hour to arrive and get set.

Teddy Fay and Lauren Cade began working in their kitchen in the hangar apartment at Clinton Field. Teddy put some oil and butter into a large pan with a little salt, then added twelve ounces of Arborio rice. He stirred the rice until it was golden, then began adding chicken stock, while Lauren browned a pound of Italian sweet sausages.

Teddy stirred continuously for twenty-five minutes while adding stock to the rice, as Lauren sliced the sausages into bite-sized chunks. After the rice had absorbed the carton of stock and was thick, Teddy added half a carton of creme fraiche and half a cup of grated Parmigiano Italiano, while continuing to stir, then he added some green peas that he had cooked earlier and folded them into the dish.

Lauren had set the table and opened a bottle of Amarone, a full-bodied Italian wine. She brought the plates to Teddy, and he heaped the risotto onto them.

Todd Bacon parked across the street from Clinton Field, took the briefcase, and climbed over a fence around a water tank nearby. He judged the distance to the hangar’s lighted upstairs windows as about forty yards. He climbed the ladder to the top of the tank, about sixty feet high, then he set down the briefcase and opened it, exposing an unassembled Czech-made sniper rifle from the Cold War era.

He assembled the weapon in the dim light as he had practiced in his office the day before, then he screwed the silencer and telescopic sight into place and shoved a magazine into the lightweight rifle.

He sighted the weapon on the upstairs window of the hangar, and he could plainly see a man and a woman working at a stove. He swung the rifle to his right, took aim at a spot at the corner of another hangar, then he racked the action of the rifle and squeezed off a round. He could see it strike exactly where he had aimed.

He swung the rifle back to the kitchen window and watched the woman carry two plates to a table and open a bottle of wine. She sat, facing the window, and Teddy pulled out a chair next to her. Teddy bent over and kissed her on the ear, then he lifted her chin and kissed her on the lips.

Todd aimed at the back of Teddy’s head and squeezed off the round.

“I love you,” Teddy whispered into Lauren’s ear, then he put a finger under her chin and tilted her head. He kissed her lovingly, then started to sit down. As he did so, there were the simultaneous sounds of glass breaking and a thud near him, as a chunk of Lauren’s forehead blew away and blood and brain matter spattered the wall behind her. Teddy knew, instantly, that she was dead, and he dove for the floor, as another bullet struck a plate of risotto and scattered it.

More shots came through the metal side of the hangar, as the shooter tried to find him on the floor, but Teddy had quickly crawled away from the window. He heard someone shout from across the street.

“Shit!” Todd yelled at the top of his lungs. Todd quickly disassembled the rifle, closed the briefcase, clenched the handle in his teeth, and jumped for the ladder, clamping it between his feet and sliding down it to the ground in seconds. He tossed the briefcase over the fence, then backed off and got a running start at it. He hit the middle of the fence with his left foot, and his momentum carried him up and over itnds. . He grabbed the briefcase and ran for his car.

From the kitchen floor, huddled under the sink, Teddy heard the vehicle drive away. Teddy had no doubt who the shooter had been. He got an army blanket from the bedroom and spread it over Lauren’s body, then, brushing away tears and regaining complete control of himself, he went to the computer and logged on to the CIA mainframe. In less than a minute he was into the personnel files, and seconds after that, he had Todd Bacon’s home address. Teddy knew exactly where it was, since it was only a quarter-mile or so from his former home.