David Baldacci - Simple Genius

They shook hands. Her grip was strong, confident. He thought of a similar grip he knew well: Michelle’s.

“So what brings you to our little hamlet?”

Sean replied, “Business. I take it you live around here?”

“No, but my husband keeps an office near here. I was actually planning on going out with him tonight.” She looked down into her glass. “Things didn’t work out.”

That explained the little scene outside the building.

“Should I ask what’s wrong with your husband that he doesn’t see how lucky he is, or would that be indiscreet?”

She laughed. “The question isn’t indiscreet, but my answer might be.”

Sean’s drink came and they both sipped while he shot glances around the bar. Sean was trying to spot anyone paying them more than cursory attention.

“So what is it that you do, Sean?”

“I’m a problem solver.”

“Oh good, can I hire you?” she said jokingly.

“I’m not cheap.”

“I wouldn’t let you sit there if I thought you were.”

“So what is it you do?”

“Not much anymore.”

“Kids?”

“No, didn’t work out.”

“Me either.”

She glanced at his hand. “Not married now?”

“Divorced. Never got back in the saddle.”

“So what did you do to make your little woman divorce you?”

“I apparently snore, very loudly.”

“There’s a surefire cure for that.”

“Really? What?”

“Getting your brains screwed out.”

He smiled. “Damn, should I start blushing now or what?”

“Just making a comment. It’s not necessarily directed at you, although you’re a very attractive man, but you don’t need me to sit here and tell you that. Do you?” Her tone was blunt, aggressive. The woman was not flirting with him now. There was definitely something else going on.

He glanced at his watch. Michelle would be showing up soon. And he didn’t want to push Valerie too much the first time out.

“I’m sorry if I’m boring you,” she said in an annoyed tone.

He looked up to see her offended gaze on him.

“I just have an appointment I have to get to.”

“Well, then you better get to it. Then I can finish my drink in peace for a change.”

“Valerie, I saw that other guy hitting on you. I’m not like that.”

“Famous last words.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and wrote something on it. He handed it to her. “I’ve got to go now, but here’s my number.”

“Why would I want your number?”

“For now let’s just call it new friends exchanging information.” He looked at her expectantly. “You don’t have to give me your number if you don’t want to.”

“Good, because I don’t think I want to.”

He finished his Mojito and rose. “Pleasure making your acquaintance, Valerie.”

She didn’t answer him, yet he could feel her gaze burn into his back with every step he took away. Outside in the cruiser Sean filled in Hayes on the encounter.

“Do you have a death wish!” the lawman exclaimed. “Whitfield looked like he wanted to kill you for asking him a single question about Camp Peary. Can you imagine what he’d do to you if he finds out you’re screwing around with his wife?”

“I just had a drink with the lady. At first she was friendly, but then something happened and all of a sudden she wasn’t. That’s one reason I beat a retreat.”

“Maybe she’s used to people trying to poke around to find out about her husband and using her to do it. Just like you are!”

They drove back to Babbage Town in silence. As Sean got out of the car he said, “I have a couple of associates coming down to join me. Would you like to extend to them the same arrangement you made with me?”

“You mean to partner?” Sean nodded. “I don’t know, are they any good?”

“As good as me, if not better.”

“Well, maybe I will seeing as how you’re probably going to get yourself killed by a jealous husband real soon.”

As Hayes drove out the gate of Babbage Town Sean saw the wink of lights heading toward him. As the truck drew closer he took a deep breath. Michelle Maxwell had arrived.

SEAN FEIGNED SURPRISE at seeing Michelle, but didn’t ask for a lengthy explanation, instead turning his attention to getting her inside the compound. It took a heated argument with the security guards at the front gate and finally a call to Champ Pollion, who came out to settle the dispute.

When Champ first saw Michelle, the brilliant physicist was instantly reduced to a puppy begging for attention.

“Yes, of course you can stay,” Champ said, stammering slightly as he held out his hand to Michelle.

Sean said, “Maybe we can grab some chow in the dining room while we discuss the case.”

“Fine,” Michelle said, her gaze on Champ. “Thank you, Mr. Pollion.”

“Please, call me Champ.”

“I’m sure you live up to your name,” she said.

As they drove off Sean glanced back at Champ and saw his look of longing at Michelle.

In your freaking dreams, pal.

The dining room was mostly empty at this hour, but true to its 24/7 policy, the Babbage Town chefs were on duty and in a matter of fifteen minutes they had hot food and coffee in front of them.

Sean filled Michelle in on everything, including the attempt on his life, his theory on Rivest’s murder, and his brief conversation with Valerie Messaline. In turn, Michelle brought him up to date on what she’d found out from her friend at the National Intelligence Center.

“I heard a plane landing around two A.M. my first night here. A big one. I wondered why I couldn’t see any running lights.” “My contact at NIC also told me that Ian Whitfield is a man not to be crossed.”

“Trust me I’d already gotten that impression,” Sean said.

“So you’re partnering with this Sheriff Hayes?”

Sean stirred some sugar into his coffee. “It seemed like a good way to keep in the loop.”

“And little Joanie is okay with that?”

“Little Joanie doesn’t know, because I haven’t been returning her calls.”

“I knew I loved you.”

“Hold your accolades; I’m going to have to fill her in at some point.”

“And this Hayes guy? Is he okay?”

“Solid guy, if excitable. He doesn’t think I should be going anywhere near Whitfield’s wife.”

“Well neither do I.”

“If Monk was killed by the folks at Camp Peary, she may be the only way we can find out about it.”

“From the way you said he blew off the little missus tonight, I doubt Whitfield is giving his wife a daily briefing.”

“She might have learned something anyway. The lady isn’t stupid and she’s not happy with her hubby right now.”

“Okay, let’s say Whitfield had Monk Turing killed. Why?” “Something he saw? These secret flights maybe? There’s something weird going on over there for damn sure. Somebody took a shot at me. And say what you will about the CIA, they don’t usually go out of their way to kill American citizens for no reason.”

“He might’ve seen someone tortured. Or even killed,” Michelle added.

“People are assuming that Turing climbed the fence and then died right there. But what if he went a lot farther than that? In fact what if he was trying to get back out of Camp Peary when he was killed?”

“But you said all evidence pointed to suicide.”

“Come on, the CIA can’t rig a murder to look like suicide?”

“Sean, why would Monk Turing be sneaking over there in the first place?”

“According to Whitfield, to kill himself to either make the CIA look bad or die in a blaze of media glory.”