Courier (29 page)

Eve levered herself up on her elbows and put both hands on his face, staring intently into his eyes. "Listen. I believe in all that ‘crap', even after highly trained professors have been trying to knock it out of me for four years at Dartmouth and three years of Georgetown Law. You have terrible wounds. They're written on your body and carved into your soul. I'd like to help you heal."

He stared back. "I don't know if it's something that can heal – at least not forever. All the guys I know fall down at some point."

She kissed him on the chest. "Didn't say I'd heal it, just said I'd like to help." She relaxed back down onto his chest. "On the other hand, we do have some powerful healers back in Montana, and the land itself has sacred powers."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I'd like to see that. Couldn't be worse than a VA shrink, anyway."

"OK, back to the plan for today. Just baths and workouts, or are we going to war?"

He laughed, then turned serious. "I guess we're going to war. Or, better yet, figure out how to use these documents to stop one particular war."

"And screw the President?"

"That too." He rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "I'm really not a pacifist, and I've got a need to see some justice done."

 

It was gray and cold, so Rick kept the speed down as they cruised up to Capitol Hill. As he always did, he thought about the classic problem of motorcycle thermodynamics. Should you drive slowly so it wouldn't be as cold but you'd spend more time getting where you were going, or speed up and suffer through the increased wind blast for a shorter period? Or should he just get a bike with a full fairing and a windshield?

Nah, sitting behind a slab of plastic would spoil the dance.

Eve pulled herself a bit closer to his back. "This is not a rational form of transportation. I ask you again, why not a nice warm car?"

"Hey, watch what you say. Motorcycles are a very important part of my personal belief system."

"So, you believe in freezing to death?"

Rick ducked down behind the Kawasaki's small windshield, and Eve shrieked as the full force of the wind hit her.

Rick sat up again. "See, that's why you should never make fun of someone's religion."

"I will get my revenge, you know." Her hands disappeared under his jacket. "I am a master at the ancient Cheyenne torture of cold feet in bed."

"Threats, always threats." He stopped and began to park. "OK, no more jokes. We're here."

They walked up 8th Street to the Townhouse, and, again, Rick's glasses immediately fogged over. While he pulled them off, wiped them down, and waited for them to heat up enough to stop condensing, he didn't see the middle-aged woman from the Seoul Palace get up from a corner table and turn her back to walk toward the restrooms.

Eve tugged him over to the table where Dina and Corey were sitting. They pulled off their jackets and gratefully clutched two waiting mugs of coffee.

Dina looked at them intently. "There's something different about you two."

Eve nodded and smiled.

The older woman said, "Congratulations, you make a good team. Now, let's move on to unimportant matters like the hopefully short and painful future of the schmuck in the White House."

"The papers and film are still over at the other bar." Rick sipped at his coffee. "I got rudely interrupted by my friends from Saigon."

"Those bastards again?" Corey looked around the room. "What's it take to discourage them?"

"Don't worry."

Corey turned his eyes to Rick. "Why not?"

"You are a respected member of the congressional staff. Do you really want to know?"

After a pause, Corey said, "No, not really."

Dina broke in. "That's wonderful, if slightly scary, news, but I doubt they were working alone. Let's block out a plan, go get the evidence, and scatter."

She turned to Corey. "You get to lead the prosecution team."

"Are you kidding?" The lawyer bristled. "Have you forgotten that I'm gay? The President and his staff are already accusing everyone and his brother of being a faggot. One wrong step and my career is history."

Dina smiled. "Sweetie, you really are preaching to the choir, you know. How long do you think I'd last if anyone knew about my girlfriends? But there is one big difference. I'm a Democrat."

"So?"

"So, you know damn well that half the Republican congressional staff spends their nights up in the bushes around the Iwo Jima Memorial or dancing their cute little butts off at Lost and Found and Grand Central." She shook her head. "I'll never figure out why all you boys get hot for guys with deeply conservative family values."

"It's the dress code," Corey deadpanned. "But that puts me more at risk. My only hope is to stay deep in the closet and hope to not get caught."

"Not if you've got Rick's evidence. Someone from the White House comes after you, and it's mutual assured destruction." She tapped her finger on the table for emphasis. "Spread the stuff around. Give a bit of the information to every gay staffer on the Hill so no one can be sure they've snagged all of it."

Rick spoke up. "Hey, it's not just about keeping you guys safe and warm in your day jobs. I want the war stopped and that rat bastard ruined. Not just out of the White House – ruined forever."

"His name should be a synonym for betrayal," Eve added. "The only way he gets remembered is as the worst President ever."

"Remind me never to go to war against a woman," Corey said. "OK, I'm in. There are a lot of gays who fought in that jungle – they just had to keep their mouths shut and their legs crossed – and they'll be just as pissed as you when they find out the truth. We'll do it right."

Eve asked, "Do it right?"

"Yeah, no half-assed leaks to the
Post
." He nodded to Dina. "You're right. A lot of top Republican staffers are gay, and they've got a lot of influence over the GOP caucus."

Corey took a small leather notebook from his coat pocket and began to make notes. "Even without subpoena power, we should have enough juice to get the bombing stopped immediately, and then I'll take it to friends on both Banking Committees and we'll put the accountants to work. It may take a while, but we'll take him down. It probably won't be public like that circus Sam Ervin is kicking off, but one day, the real powers in this town will sit down in the Oval Office and tell him exactly what will happen if he doesn't quit."

 

"I don't think anyone is here, but I've got a key," Dina said as they reached the door to the lesbian hangout. "Let's hurry up, get the evidence, and get out of here. We need to split up."

She opened the green door and headed straight for the back hallway and up the stairs. Rick closed the door, but realized it didn't have a thumb lock – he would need the key to lock it up. With a shrug, he followed Eve and Corey up to the small apartment.

The prints and the film were still behind the grimy bathtub, and Rick pulled them out and handed them to Dina, who took them over near the doorway, where she scanned them quickly under the bare light bulb.

"OK, this is the real thing." She turned to hand the papers to Corey. "Up to you now."

"No. It will be up to me." A hand with a straight razor reached across Dina's neck and a middle-aged Asian woman grabbed her by the other shoulder and pulled her back a step. "Now, hand those papers to me, or she will die."

Rick looked at her closely. "Wait a minute. I know you. You're Mrs Jin from the Seoul Palace."

She hissed in anger.

Corey put the printouts and film on the cot next to him and stood up. "Rick, you really should think before you open your mouth."

"You think I won't kill this bitch?" The Korean woman tightened her grip, and a thin line of blood appeared on Dina's neck.

Corey looked relaxed as he took a step toward her. "No, the problem is that I do think you'll kill her. I think that now we know who you are, you'll kill all of us."

The razor slashed across Dina's throat, and she gurgled and fell, her hands up in a futile attempt to stop the gush of blood. Mrs Jin took a quick step toward Corey, but then cried out and fell as Eve flew in from the side and tackled her at the knees.

Again, Rick had a hard time seeing what Corey actually did, but in seconds, the razor rattled against the far wall and Corey had one hand gripping the woman by the thumb and the other on her neck. They stood frozen for a moment, and then she shuddered and went limp.

Corey stepped back. "Eve, you can let go now. She's unconscious."

Rick shot over to Dina and crouched at her side. One look at her pale face told him that she'd already almost bled out. God knew he'd seen enough of that to know. Eve fell to her knees on the other side and put her hands on the slowing pulse of blood coming from her throat.

"Is there anything we can do?" she asked.

Rick shook his head.

Eve bent down and hugged the big woman desperately, then gave her a kiss on the lips. "I'm so sorry, Dina. I couldn't be the woman you wanted, but you were a true friend."

Dina's eyes flicked to Eve's face and then Rick's. She looked intently at him for a second, and then her eyes glazed over and she was gone. Rick knew that she'd asked and been answered in that quick exchange. He closed her eyes and then pulled Eve to her feet.

"We've got to get out of here."

Corey looked at the Korean woman crumpled on the floor. "What do we do with her?"

"Is she going to die?" Rick asked Corey.

The slim man shook his head.

"Then we'll leave her here. I'll call the cops. Nobody touch that razor. If we're lucky, she'll get arrested for murder."

Corey picked up the film and the printouts and started for the door. He paused and crouched down by Dina's body. "I wish I could have known you longer, girlfriend. I think we would have had some good times. Just for that, I'll ruin that crooked bastard for you. That's a promise." He disappeared down the stairs.

Rick gently pushed Eve back and looked at her. "Come on. We'll wash off that blood and get out of here. It's over."

Eve's face crumpled, but there were no tears. She said, "No, it's not over." She let Rick lead her to the sink. "It'll never be over."

"No, it never is. But you have to keep going anyway."

CHAPTER 34

 

Rick hung up the pay phone outside a small corner store with high windows of glass brick and turned back to the bike.

Eve, still sitting on the back of the motorcycle, examined his face. "What's wrong?"

"Somehow, when the desk captain refers to the location of the crime as ‘a lezzie bar', I don't get the feeling that checking out a report of a fight will be a high priority." He swung back onto the Kawasaki. "I hope that woman doesn't wake up and take off before DC's Finest manage to fit a visit into their busy schedule."

Eve put her arms around him and pressed her face into his back. Rick could feel her quiet sobs through his jacket.

He kicked the bike to life. "OK, we need to get off the streets and figure out a way to get out of town."

Eve said in a voice straining to be normal, "I've got a way."

Rick pulled away from the curb. "A quick flight to Belize?"

That got a brief laugh that seemed to catch in her throat. She sighed, "God, this sucks. No more jokes, OK?"

"OK, but it won't help."

"It can't hurt." She wiped her eyes on the back of his jacket. "I went to see some of my people. They've agreed to help. We just need to get to them."

"What people?"

"My people. That's all you need to know. I've got to keep them safe."

"Fair enough." He pulled into traffic. "I've got to drop something off at Motor Mouse, and then we'll grab our stuff from the printers."

"Motor Mouse?"

"My people. That's all you need to know."

She punched him in the back.

He smiled.

 

Once again, the quiet filled the Impala. It was parked inconspicuously a block away from Motor Mouse with an excellent view of the grimy garage doors. The Vietnamese were gone – he'd gotten them on a military medevac flight deadheading back to Da Nang to pick up another load of wounded. They would take a long time to recover, but after their repeated failures, they were fortunate to be alive at all. He had refrained from disposing of them more permanently because he thought they might be useful in the future and, more importantly, because too many people in the DC Police Department and other, less public, agencies were already quite curious about them.

He'd cut off the driver's morphine while the nurse was out of the room and cross-examined him at some length. Between moans, he had identified this dubious-looking courier company as perhaps the one place where he might be able to pick up the trail. When Mrs Jin had called him at the YMCA with the news of her involvement with the murder of a congressional staffer, he'd told her to disappear for her own safety and that they would see each other again.

They always did.

Now, he was on another solo mission, and, if anything, it was a relief. Other people just complicated things – made it hard to concentrate.

The key thing that needed attention was that damn film, and Mrs Jin wasn't completely certain that the courier even had it any longer. There were other people involved now. If that was true, he couldn't resolve the situation with a single clean kill.

Well, that was the way it was.

He settled back and let his mind clear.

 

The plastic chairs sat empty in front of Motor Mouse when Rick pulled up. Idly, he wondered if the usual occupants had jobs they needed to go to or families who wanted to see them. It was hard to think of outlaw bikers as having a life outside of the club. The big doors were almost closed, but he could see a gleam of light inside, so Hector must still be there.