Washington, D.C.
November 5
1:15 a.m.
Shower, food, coffee, talk. She felt fortified enough. Her plan was ironed out. Redundancies and backups were in place. Electronic evidence had been transferred to secure locations. She had two hours of work to complete later. Dawn was five hours ahead.
Sleep three hours.
Work two hours.
Implement plan.
Bingo.
Gaspar was in the room’s only chair. She didn’t ask why he wasn’t stretched out on the other bed. She dressed in pajamas and the hotel’s terry robe. She set her alarm. She punched her pillows. She turned her cell phone off. She snuffed the bedside lamp.
She stretched out.
She closed her eyes.
Gaspar said, “I forgot to ask. Did you recognize anyone on that last flash drive?”
She murmured before she fell off the cliff, “A toady guy using the Busy Beaver was the U.S. Ambassador to Switzerland until last year. And a guy wearing the silver band is pretty high up at the Attorney General’s office now.”
Then what felt a minute later room service delivered a 4:00 a.m. breakfast.
Gaspar was already showered, dressed, and packed. He dealt with the waiter. Seconds later he was chowing down on eggs, ham, and toast.
Revolting.
Kim arose groggy. Mainlined coffee before, during, and after her shower. Munched dry toast as she packed. Twenty minutes later they were on the road to Baltimore. It was still full dark. Traffic was light. It was cold. No precipitation.
“Did you check your voice mail?” Gaspar asked. “Roscoe called me again an hour ago. Looking for you. Seemed a bit frantic.”
Kim pulled out her smart phone and fired it up and found three voice messages, all from Roscoe. She listened. “She says Archie Leach is on his way. Says he’s out of his mind with grief. Dangerous, is how she put it.”
“Something off about that guy. He was the cool head back at Eno’s diner when brother Jim was holding his shotgun on us. Now he’s so grief stricken he’s chasing a couple of federal agents?”
Kim shrugged. “We’ve got plenty to deal with as it is. Let’s put Archie Leach on the back burner.”
Gaspar followed the directions they’d worked out. Forty-eight minutes later they pulled into the bus station. Kim hurried inside and located two self-serve lockers permitting sixty day pre-paid rentals. She stashed duplicate hard copies of the evidence she’d made last night in each. Dropped each key into a padded envelope, postage prepaid. Mailed one at the station. Mailed the second from a random roadside box.
She repeated the process at the train station and the airport.
She rejoined Gaspar at the curb outside Baltimore Washington International.
He asked, “Good to go?”
She said, “Our asses are as covered as they’re ever going to get.”
She checked her watch. Right on time. The sun was just peeking over the horizon.
Attack at dawn.
But the attack would fail unless Sylvia agreed to help them. Which she might. If they could separate her from Marion Wallace and Charles Cooper.