David Baldacci - Simple Genius

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wait a minute, you didn’t recognize the song, did you? If you do we can just check around for the sheet music. She must have it here somewhere.”

“Sorry, that stuff was a little too mellow for me,” Horatio admitted. “I’m more into classic rock.”

By the time Alicia arrived home Horatio had the notes written out. Sean showed them to her.

“So you think these are somehow a code?” she asked.

“That’s right,” Sean said.

“The thing is with musical notes you have only a few possibilities to work with.”

Horatio nodded. “A, B, C, D, E, F, G. Of course you can break them down into sharps, flats, etc.”

“Is that enough for you to work with, Alicia?” Sean said anxiously.

“I won’t know until I know,” she said. “Any idea what the subject matter might be?”

Sean looked at Michelle but remained silent.

Alicia, who’d been watching him, snapped, “Damn it, if you don’t trust me enough to tell me what you’re looking for, go find somebody else to help you.”

“Okay, okay.” He drew a deep breath. “You might want to think about Camp Peary, German prisoners of war and secret flights.”

Alicia’s eyes widened. “Just for the record, I’m a linguist and mathematician, not a cryptanalyst.”

“But some of the world’s best code breakers were linguists and math types,” Sean pointed out.

“Well it would be nice to have some more context to work with. Monk Turing was a very smart man. I doubt it’s something simple.”

Sean cried out, “Turing! Codes and blood. That must be it.”

“What must be it?” Michelle asked, staring at him in amazement.

“Monk Turing was related to Alan Turing, his blood relation. He visited England recently and went over the geographic locations of Turing’s life. Alan Turing almost single-handedly broke one of the German Enigma codes. It must have something to do with that.”

Alicia looked through the pages. “Well, that does help. I have some books on Alan Turing and his work. When do you need to know something?”

“Any minute now would be great.”

MICHELLE, NATURALLY ALWAYS DRAWN to the water, decided to go kayaking. It helped her think and she wanted to take another pass by Camp Peary’s river frontage. If they were going to try to break into the place at some point, a little extra reconnoitering couldn’t hurt. When she got down to the boathouse she saw her kayak on the pier.

How did that get here? she wondered.

After a half-hour on the water she’d scrutinized the camp from several different angles. The chain link fence wouldn’t be difficult to get past, but after that? For the first time she really thought about what would happen to them if they were caught. And what could they really expect to find amid thousands of acres of mostly undeveloped, forested land? Was that enough to give up her life for? And while it seemed that Sean was having second thoughts, what if he changed his mind and decided to go through with it? Would she stick by him or do the only logical thing and decline? And if he went by himself and was killed, when her presence might have made the difference? Could she live with herself?

These thoughts were interrupted when a boat’s horn sounded nearby. She looked around. The RIB was puttering up to her from behind. Ian Whitfield was at the helm dressed in camie pants and a white T-shirt that revealed his chiseled physique. He was wearing a Yankees ball cap and a friendly expression.

He expertly drew the boat alongside her kayak and then shifted the throttle to neutral, as she slipped her paddle over the RIB’s gunwale to hold her craft steady.

“Ian Whitfield,” he announced, throwing up a hand in greeting.

Michelle tried to hide her surprise.

“Much nicer day to be out than yesterday,” he said cheerfully.

“So you were out in the storm?”

“A little. I found that kayak you’re sitting in floating downriver. Anything happen?”

“A friend of mine took a dunk in the water. We finally got her out.”

“Good thing. The York’s current can be a little tricky, Miss, uh?”

“Michelle Maxwell. Just call me Michelle.” She glanced across the river.

“So how are things on the other side of the York?”

“Don’t recall saying I was from any side of the river.”

“Just things you hear. And I hear more than most. I used to be with the Secret Service. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

He continued to gaze out over the water. “My dream was to play shortstop for the Yankees, but the talent wasn’t up to the dream. Serving your country wasn’t a bad second option.”

Michelle was a little taken aback by this tacit admission of the man’s employment. “Riding on Air Force One and protecting the Man was one of the greatest honors of my life.” She paused and added, “I knew some guys in Delta who were in Vietnam.” He gave her a penetrating stare. “Like I said, I hear more than most.”

He shrugged. “That was a long time ago.”

“But you never forget.”

“Some do; I never have.” He pointed to Babbage Town. “So how goes it on your side of the river?”

“Slowly.”

“I often wondered why they set up shop down here.”

“You mean across from you?”

“You’ve got a partner here with you?” he said, ignoring her question.

“Yes.”

“Monk Turing’s death was unfortunate, but hardly the basis for a murder investigation.”

“You told my partner it was a suicide.”

“No, I told him there had been four other suicides in and around Camp Peary. And I also told him that the FBI had concluded that Turing killed himself.”

“I’m not sure they still believe that. And then there’s Len Rivest.”

“The local paper said he’d had a lot to drink and was found drowned in his bathtub. Doesn’t sound all that sinister really.”

“Two deaths so close together?”

“People die all the time in all different ways, Michelle.”

He looked, Michelle thought, like a man who knew what he was talking about.

“That almost sounds like a warning,” she said.

“I have no control over how you interpret my words.” He swept his hand toward the other side of the river. “There’s a big federal presence down here and that includes the Navy. People working for their country, doing dangerous things, risking their lives. You should understand that. You risked your life for your country.”

“I do understand it,” Michelle said. “And where exactly is this conversation going?”

“Just keep in mind that this stretch of the York can be very dangerous. Whatever you do, don’t lose sight of that. You have a nice day now.”

Michelle slipped her paddle off the gunwale as Whitfield put the throttle in reverse, turned and slowly puttered off. Michelle maneuvered her kayak so that she could continue to watch him as he headed downriver to the Camp Peary boat dock. The man never once looked back.

When he was out of sight Michelle turned around and paddled slowly away. Ian Whitfield had given her a lot to think about. And a good reason to be afraid.

OVER COFFEE IN THE MANSION’S dining room Michelle filled Sean in on her conversation with Ian Whitfield.

“He strikes me as a guy who doesn’t make empty threats.”

“My skin was tingling the whole time he was talking to me.”

“That makes me even less inclined to go over the fence.”

“Then we need to find some new angles to work,” she said. “I’m just not sure what they are.”

“Let’s go over what we know. Monk went to Germany and he died at Camp Peary. There were German POWs kept at Camp Peary during the war. Len Rivest wanted to talk to me about Babbage Town and now he’s dead. He thought there were spies here. Alicia Chadwick was having a fling with Rivest and is Viggie’s guardian. Champ doesn’t have an alibi for Len’s death but we have no evidence he had anything to do with it. Ian Whitfield warned me and then you off and his wife is a dead end. The morgue got blown up. To mess up the evidence that Rivest was murdered?”