Saving Faith (37 page)

“Let’s just put it this way, Mr. Adams: Faith is not the only one working for a prominent federal agency. At least her involvement was voluntarily. Mine wasn’t.”

“Oh, shit.”

“To put it mildly, yes. Where are you?”

“Why?”

“Because I need to get to you.”

“And how can you do that without bringing the ACME assassin squad down on us? I assume you’re under surveillance.”

“Unbelievably, astonishingly tight surveillance.”

“Okay, so you’re not coming anywhere near us.”

“Mr. Adams, the only chance we have is to work together. That can’t be done from a distance. I have to come to you, because I don’t think it wise for you to come here.”

“You’re not convincing me.”

“I won’t come if I can’t lose them.”

“Lose them? Look, who do you think you are, Houdini reincarnated? Well, let me tell you, not even Houdini could lose
both
the FBI
and
the CIA.”

“I’m neither a spy nor a magician. I’m a humble lobbyist, but I have one advantage: I know this city better than anyone alive. And I have friends in both high and low places. And right now, they are equally valuable to me. Rest assured, I will get to you alone. And then we might be able to survive this. Now I want to speak to Faith.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Mr. Buchanan.”

“Yes, it is.”

Lee whirled around and saw Faith standing on the stairs in a T-shirt. “It’s time, Lee. In fact, it’s way past time.”

He took a deep breath and held out the phone.

“Hello, Danny,” she said into the phone.

“God, Faith, I’m sorry. For all of this.” Buchanan’s voice cracked in midsentence.

“I should be apologizing. I started this whole nightmare by going to the FBI.”

“Well, we have to finish it. We may as well do it together. How is Adams? Is he capable? We’re going to need some support.”

Faith glanced over at Lee, who was anxiously watching her. “In my informed opinion, we have no problems there. In fact, that’s probably our one ace in the hole.”

“Tell me where you are, and I’ll be down as quickly as possible.”

She did. She also told Buchanan everything she and Lee knew. When she hung up, she looked over at Lee.

He shrugged. “I figured it was our only shot. Either that or we spend the rest of our lives running.”

She sat on his lap, curled her legs up and laid her head against his chest. “You did the right thing. Whoever’s involved in this, they’ll find a tough opponent in Danny.”

Lee’s hopes, however, had plummeted. The CIA. Hired assassins, legions of people expert in all sorts of nasty things: computers, satellites, covert operations, air guns with poisoned bullets, all coming for them. If he was smart, he’d throw Faith on the Honda and run like hell.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” Faith said. “Danny said he’d be down as soon as he could.”

“Right,” Lee said, a faraway look in his eyes.

As Faith headed up the stairs, Lee picked up his phone, glanced at it and froze. Lee Adams had never been more stunned in his life. And with the events of the last few days, the bar on what surprised him had risen to about the level of the sun. The text message on the cell phone’s screen was concise. And it came close to stopping even Lee’s very strong heart.

Faith Lockhart for Renee Adams,
it said. There was a phone number to call. They wanted Faith in exchange for his daughter.

 

CHAPTER 40

Reynolds sat in her living room cradling a cup of tea and staring into a fire that was slowly dying. The last time she could remember being home at this time of the day was when she had been on maternity leave with David. Her son had been as surprised to see her come through the door as Rosemary. David was now napping, and Rosemary was busy doing laundry. Just another normal day for them. Reynolds simply stared into the embers of the fire, wishing that something, anything about her life could be normal.

It had started to rain hard, which fit in perfectly with her deep depression. Suspended. She felt naked without her gun and credentials. All those years at the Bureau, never a blemish, and now she was a step away from a ruined career. Then what would she do? Where could she go? Without her job, would her husband try to take the kids? Could she stop him if he did?

She put her cup down, kicked off her shoes and sank back on the couch. The tears started to come fast and heavy, and she put an arm across her face both to soak them up and muffle her sobs. The ringing doorbell made her sit up, wipe at her face and head to the door. She looked through the peephole and found herself staring at Howard Constantinople.

Connie stood in front of the fire he had just stoked, warming his hands. An embarrassed Reynolds quickly dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. He could not have missed her red eyes and splotchy cheeks, she knew, but he had tactfully said nothing.

“Did they talk to you?” she asked.

Connie turned and dropped into a chair, nodding as he did so. “And I came damn close to being suspended myself. I was about two seconds from punching out Fisher, that shit-faced excuse for an agent.”

“Don’t go and crater your career for me, Connie.”

“If I had slugged the guy, believe me, it would’ve been for me, not you.” He popped a big knuckle, as though emphasizing the point, and then looked across at her. “The thing that kills me is, they actually believe you’re somehow involved in this. I told them the truth. Something came up, we were working another case. You wanted to go with Lockhart because you had the relationship with her, but we had this potential whistleblower over at Agriculture we were committed to. I told them you were fretting like all get-out because you didn’t know if Ken going with Lockhart out there was the right thing to do.”

“And?”

“And they weren’t listening. They’ve already made up their minds.”

“Because of the money? Did they tell you about that?”

Connie nodded slowly and suddenly hunched forward. For a big man his movements could be quick, agile. “I don’t like kicking you while you’re down, but why in the hell did you go sniffing around Newman’s accounts without telling somebody? Like me, for instance? You know detectives go in pairs for lots of reasons, not the least of which is to cover the other’s ass. Now you’ve got nobody to corroborate shit for you, except Anne Newman. And as far as they’re concerned, she doesn’t count.”

Reynolds threw up her hands. “I never in a million years thought this would happen. I was trying to do right by Ken and his family.”

“Well, if he was being paid off, maybe Ken doesn’t deserve that sort of consideration. And that’s coming from a good friend of his.”

“We don’t know that he was bad yet.”

“Cash in a safe-deposit box under a fake name? Yeah, I guess everybody does that, don’t they?”

“Connie, how did they know I was investigating Ken’s finances? I can’t believe Anne would have called the Bureau. She asked me for help.”

“I asked Massey, but he’s a clam. Figures I’m the enemy too. I nosed around a bit, though, and I think they got a phone tip. Anonymous, of course. Massey told me you were screaming frame-up. And you know what, I think you’re right, even if they don’t.”

The sight of Connie at the door had been welcome. The fact that he was still loyal meant a lot to her. And she wanted to do right by him too. Especially him. “Look, this isn’t going to help your career, being seen with me, Connie. I’m sure Fisher has a tail on me.”

“Actually, I’m your tail.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, the hell I am not. I talked the ADIC into it. Called in a few markers. For old times’ sake, Massey said. In case you didn’t know, Fred Massey was the guy who asked me to take the dive on the Brownsville case all those years ago. If he thinks this evens us up, he’s brain-dead. But don’t get all excited. They know I have every incentive to cover
my
ass on this. And that means if you fall, they don’t have to go putting blame anywhere else. Including on yours truly.” Connie paused and made a mock show of surprise. “ADIC? Come to think of it, that acronym really fits. Massey’s a little shit too.”

“You don’t have much respect for your chain of command.” Reynolds smiled. “What do you think of me, Agent Constantinople?”

“I think you screwed up big-time, and you just gave the Bureau a face-saving scapegoat,” he said bluntly.

Reynolds’s face grew serious. “You don’t sugarcoat.”

“Do you want me to waste time doing that?” Connie stood. “Or do you want to clear your name?”

“I
have
to clear my name. If I don’t, I could lose it all, Connie. My kids, my career. All of it.” Reynolds could feel herself trembling again and she took several deep breaths to counteract the panic she was feeling. She felt like a high schooler who had just learned she was pregnant. “But I’m suspended. No creds, no gun. No authority.”

In answer Connie pulled on his overcoat. “Well, you’ve got me. I’ve got creds, a gun and, while I’m only a humble field agent after two and a half decades of doing this crap, I can do authority with the best of them. So get your coat and let’s try to track down Lockhart.”

“Lockhart?”

“I figure we deliver her, the pieces start to fall into place. The more they do, the more the blame gets shifted off you. I’ve talked to the VCU boys. They’re spinning their wheels waiting on lab results and crap like that. And now Massey has them going hot and heavy on your angle and to hell with Lockhart for now. You know nobody’s even gone to her house looking for clues?”

Reynolds looked miserable. “We were so reactive on the whole thing. Ken killed. Lockhart gone. The fiasco at the airport. Then people calling themselves the FBI at Adams’s apartment. We never really had a chance to take the proper investigative steps.”

“So I figure we follow up some leads while they’re still hot. Like checking out Adams’s family in the area. I’ve got the list of names and addresses. If he went on the run, he might have gotten one of them to help.”

“You could get into deep trouble for this, Connie.”

He shrugged. “Not the first time. Besides, we don’t have a squad supervisor anymore. I don’t know if you heard, but she was suspended for being stupid.”

They exchanged smiles.

Connie continued. “So, as second-in-command, I’m entitled to investigate an active case I happened to be assigned to. My instructions are to find Faith Lockhart, so that’s what I’m going to do. They just don’t know I’m doing it with you. And I talked to the VCU guys. They know what I’m up to, so we won’t run into another team going through Adams’s relatives.”

“I need to tell Rosemary I might be gone overnight.” “Then go.” He looked at his watch. “I guess Sydney’s still in school. Where’s your boy?”

“Sleeping.”

“Whisper in his ear that Mommy’s gonna kick some butt.”

When Reynolds returned, she went straight to the closet and got her coat. She hustled toward her study and then stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Connie asked.

She looked at him, slightly embarrassed. “I was going to get my gun. Old habits die hard.”

“Not to worry. You’ll get yours back soon enough. But you have to make me a promise. When you go to get your gun and creds, take me with you. I want to see their faces.”

She opened the door for him. “Deal.”

 

CHAPTER 41

Buchanan made a number of other phone calls from the parking garage as he worked out his arrangements. He then went up to the law firm and spent time on an important matter he suddenly cared nothing about. He was driven home, his mind working the whole time as he devised his plan against Robert Thornhill. That was one area of his being that the CIA man could never penetrate or control: Buchanan’s mind. That fact was enormously comforting. Buchanan was slowly regaining his confidence. Maybe he could give the man a run for his money.

Buchanan unlocked the front door to his home and went inside. He lay his briefcase down on a chair and passed the darkened library. He turned on the light to gaze at his beloved painting, to give him strength for what lay ahead. As the light came on, Buchanan stared in disbelief at the empty frame. He staggered over to it, put his hands through the frame and touched the wall. He had been robbed. Yet he had a very good security system, and it had not been tripped.

He raced across to the phone to call the police. As his hand touched the receiver, it rang. He picked it up.

“Your car will be around in a couple of minutes, sir. Going to the office?”

At first Buchanan’s mind didn’t register.

“To the office, sir?”

“Yes,” Buchanan was finally able to say.

He put the phone down and stared over at where his painting had hung. First Faith, and now his painting. All Thornhill’s doing.
All right, Bob, first point to you. Now it’s my turn.

He went upstairs, washed his face and changed his clothes, carefully selecting what he needed to wear. He had a custom-built entertainment system in his bedroom housing a TV, stereo, VCR and DVD player. It was relatively safe from burglars since one couldn’t take the components out without unscrewing numerous wooden pieces, a very time-consuming process. Buchanan did not watch TV or movies. And when he wanted music, he put a 33 platter on his old phonograph.

Sticking his hand in the slot of the VCR, Buchanan pulled out his passport, credit card and ID, all under an alias, and a slim bundle of hundred-dollar bills and put it all in a zippered inner pocket of his coat. Coming back downstairs, he looked outside and saw his car waiting. He would let him wait a few more minutes, just for the hell of it.

When that time had passed, Buchanan picked up his briefcase and walked out to the car. He climbed in and the car drove off.

“Hello, Bob,” Buchanan said as calmly as he could.

Thornhill glanced down at the briefcase.