Jeffery Deaver - XO

– chemicals: limonite, goethite and calcite

– Determined likely to be gangue, ore collection and processing by-product

– fungus

– Determined likely to be used in place of chemical-based fertilizers

– mineral oil, with lime sulfur

– Determined likely to be organic pesticide

– calcium powder

– Determined likely to be human bone dust

– ammonium oxalate

– Determined likely to be bird excrement, probably from coastal area

She read through the list several times more.

And then:

A to B to Z…

Dance closed her eyes and let her mind wander where it would. Then she went to the website they’d looked at earlier, containing the threat to Davis. She scrolled through the posts.

Harutyun asked, “Anything helpful about where Edwin might be?”

“Maybe,” she answered absently, lost in thought.

Simesky sighed. “Doesn’t this guy know that if he killed the congressman, he’d get arrested and, in this state, probably end up on death row?”

Eyes still on her computer screen, Dance explained, “That doesn’t matter to him. Not at all.” A glance at Davis. “By killing you, he’s honoring her.”

The congressman laughed sourly. “So basically, I’m a sacrificial goat he’s offering up to his goddess.”

Which described the situation pretty well, Dance reflected and returned to the browser.

PLAN YOUR ACTS and act your plan.

Peter Simesky’s analytical mind continued to measure the actual milestones of his plan against the projected ones, and he found it proceeding apace. In general, the events were in harmony with what he and Myra Babbage had been working on for the past ten months.

He now stood in a den behind the living room, reviewing text messages on one of his many anonymous and untraceable accounts. He peeked out into the living room where the irritatingly smart Kathryn Dance, Congressman Davis and Deputy Dennis Harutyun sat, looking at-though probably not really watching-an old TV. Some game was on. Davis wasn’t happy to be here but he didn’t look particularly scared.

Simesky turned and walked into the kitchen in the back of the safe house.

The plan…

Whose goal was quite simple: to eliminate the traitor to America, Congressman William Garrett Davis, the politician who would sell the country out to people who didn’t belong here, who used it for their own gain, who despised the red, white and blue but were happy to rob this glorious nation blind. How difficult it had been for Simesky to feign admiration and undying devotion to Davis and get a job on the staff, then work his way into the man’s inner circle. He had, however, done a damn good job of it, spending more hours than virtually anyone else on Davis’s team. He’d done whatever was necessary to ingratiate himself into the man’s inner circle and gather as much information as he needed so they could stop the traitor, who-if elected president, as might very well happen-would ruin our great nation.

A little over a year ago, when Davis’s popularity began to surge, Simesky was with a think tank based in Texas, with offices in Washington, New York, Chicago and L.A. It was part of an informal association of wealthy businessmen in the Midwest and South, who ran companies and nonprofits and even a few universities. This group of men-and yes, they were exclusively men and, by the way, white-had no official name but informally, and with some wry humor, they’d adopted one, which had been bestowed by some demonic liberal media blogger. The journalist had referred to the cabal contemptuously as the Keyholders, because, he reported, the senior leaders believed they held the key to curing all of the nation’s woes.

The group loved it.

The Keyholders funneled huge sums to candidates they thought would best uphold proper ideals to keep America strong: reduced federal government, limited taxation, minimal participation in world geopolitics and, most important, the elimination of virtually all immigration. Curiously, the Keyholders had little patience for what they considered, in their opinion, unfocused and often simpleminded movements like the Tea Party, the religious right and those railing against abortion and homosexuality.

No, the main issues that mattered to the Keyholders were the death of American self-reliance through socialism and the dilution of the purity of the nation through immigration. Leaders like Bill Davis would drive the country straight to bankruptcy and moral corruption.

Generally, the Keyholders’ efforts involved financial support for candidates, publicity, misinformation campaigns against traitorous politicos and reporters, personality smears and stings.

But sometimes more was needed.

And that’s when Peter Simesky’s obscure think tank would receive a call, asking him to handle a particularly critical matter.

However he thought best.

However extreme the solution.

The Keyholders knew that whatever the mission, Simesky would create an effective and careful plan, so it was obvious that the death of this muckraking liberal journalist had to be an accident, or of that environment activist was a suicide, or of that reformer congressman was an assassination spawned by a stalker’s love for a famous singer.

And those clever plans often involved a fall guy.

Hello, Edwin.

Using the stalker came to mind last winter after he and Myra Babbage-his business partner and occasional lover-had infiltrated Davis’s ranks. Doing his typically exhaustive research, Peter Simesky had learned that Davis was a huge fan of Kayleigh Towne. The congressman had used the bitch’s pro-immigration song “Leaving Home” at rallies and in campaign ads.

Simesky reviewed Kayleigh’s websites and learned of a fanatical fan named Edwin Sharp, who posted hundreds of comments about the singer and was described by other fans as a “weirdo.”

Perfect.

The Keyholders had quite some significant resources and it took only a day to get into the Internet service providers handling Kayleigh Towne’s and Edwin’s email accounts. Unfortunately there didn’t seem to be anything particularly threatening about Edwin’s letters and posts. But he was clearly unhinged and troublingly persistent and that would be enough for Simesky’s plan. He and Myra sent Edwin emails and letters posing as Kayleigh, reporting that she was flattered by his attention and even suggesting that she’d like to get together with him. But she had to be careful, put on a facade of indifference, or her father would cause terrible problems.

Delete all the emails, burn my letters. You have to, Edwin. I’m totally afraid of my father!

The notes suggested that, whatever she said in public, she’d enjoy seeing him at the concert on Friday. If possible she’d see him later too. In private.

Edwin, I was thinking about you last night. You know girls have those kinds of thoughts too…

Myra Babbage had come up with those lines.

And Edwin had done just what they’d wanted, descended on Fresno in all his psychotic glory, far more of a nut job than they’d hoped.

He and Myra Babbage had conducted surveillance at Edwin’s rental in Fresno to learn his routine and steal some evidence that could be planted at the site of Davis’s assassination to implicate the stalker. Then, today, it was time to act. Myra had called Edwin, pretending to work for Kayleigh. She explained the singer had decided she wanted to see him but they had to be very careful. He should go to the Fashion Fair shopping mall and lose the police, then wait at Macy’s loading dock.

Myra had cruised past and waved. The poor fool had jumped into the stolen SUV, grinning in anticipation. When he turned to put his seat belt on she’d hit him with the stun gun, injected a sedative and taped him up. She’d then gone into the mall and uploaded the announcement from Java Hut that someone was about to do something that would make Kayleigh remember him forever. The context made clear that Bill Davis was to be the victim.