Savich said, “What agenda would that be?”
“To terrify Perry? Perhaps to separate her from her mother? That’s an agenda, but to what purpose?”
Savich gave him a long look. “Has it occurred to you the shooter may have been trying to separate Perry from you? Didn’t you say most of the bullets hit closer to you than to Perry?”
Davis said, “All right, then. Day Abbott comes to mind. He’s been calling Perry all week. She’s known him since she was born, more or less, and now he’s got it into his head she’s going to marry him. I’ve been letting talking with him slide because Perry speaks very highly of him, and why would he threaten her? After last night, though, we have to interview him. There might be something there. Remember Carlos knew the alarm code to Perry’s condo. It’s very likely Abbott would know that code. And he knew how much she loved her Harley.” He shook his head. “Was he hoping she would turn to him for help?”
Savich said, “The thought he’d be so jealous of you to put Perry at risk at the same time—it’d be insane obsession. If he’s that far gone, he hides it well. Still, we should see what he has to say. Be careful, though. I get a sense you don’t like him. Does he have a reason to think you’re poaching on his turf?”
“I don’t have any turf here. He doesn’t, either, only he doesn’t know it yet. Listen, Savich, sure, Perry is great, but nothing like that has happened. As for my not liking Abbott, who cares? It doesn’t matter what I think of the man.”
“All right, go talk to him. Take Griffin with you. Remember who the man’s mother is, Davis. Tread lightly.”
Davis nodded and looked down at his watch. “By this time, Natalie should be giving her speech to the General Assembly at the UN.”
“An interesting venue the president picked to bring her back in the public eye. She was good with the talking heads last night. They liked her, empathized with her. So did I. I expect she’ll have them all on her side in a few days.” Savich typed in the URL of the direct video feed from the UN as he spoke.
They watched Secretary of State Arliss Abbott standing in front of the General Assembly, looking around at faces, acknowledging delegates she recognized before she spoke. She gave a fulsome introduction of Natalie Black, U.S. ambassador to the United Kingdom, in a strong, ringing voice. She praised her friend’s courage and her outstanding service, even in the face of an assassination attempt at her home three nights before. She left little doubt they were about to hear from an American icon.
When the applause died down, Natalie thanked her and spoke for eight minutes, never mentioning the attack on her life. She spoke clearly and concisely about concrete initiatives to expand trade with emerging nations. Some of her speech was rather arcane, and none of it was entirely new, but the delegates seemed glued to her every word.
When she finished, there was more sustained applause, obviously meant to honor her. Some of the representatives from the emerging nations she’d mentioned applauded along with the rest but looked frankly bewildered at the warm response to her speech.
Davis scratched at the leopard Band-Aid from Perry’s medicine cabinet she’d plastered on his face that morning. “I really do love that woman,” he said.
Harlow, Benson, and Lerner
1980 Avenue K, Ashland Building
Washington, D.C.
Monday, noon
According to the very young, very pretty receptionist, Ms. Liu, Mr. Abbott was in his office, but he was very busy and expected in a meeting in forty-five minutes. She stammered a bit as she spoke, kept sneaking looks at Griffin. Davis was used to that. Women from fifteen to eighty seemed to fall all over Griffin at the sight of him.
“Mr. Abbott may be between clients, Agents. S-shall I see if—”
Griffin smiled at her and she simply stopped talking. “No problem, Ms. Liu. We’ll announce ourselves.”
Davis knew Ms. Liu was staring after Griffin all the way down the hall. He said, “I’ll bet Anna loves that.” Anna was the DEA agent Griffin had met on a case not long ago in Maestro, Virginia. “Loves what?” Griffin asked, pausing for a moment to glance at one of the sepia photographs of 1850s steamships lining the walls.
Davis gave a hand wave back to the reception area. “Shall I give Ms. Liu your phone number when she asks?”
Griffin said matter-of-factly, “Anna is laid-back for a woman who carries a gun. She’ll get in anyone’s face if they cross her, but with me she’s an angel—actually, I get my way about half the time.”
A guy couldn’t ask for more than that, Davis thought. Davis knocked on a door with three-inch gold letters that spelled out DAYTON EVERARD ABBOTT.
“Come in, Cindy.”
Davis opened the door, stepped in, looked at Day Abbott across the expanse of rich pale gray carpet. He looked for some sign Abbott had been the shooter at Perry’s condo last night. A bandage somewhere beneath his beautifully cut suit coat where Davis had shot him? But Day Abbott looked perfectly healthy and bewildered at seeing them. Then a look of fear leached the color out of his face. He jumped to his feet, his eyes on Davis. “It’s Perry, isn’t it? Did you let something happen to her?”
Davis said quickly, “No, Mr. Abbott, Perry is all right. But we were shot at last night at her condo.”
“Why didn’t she call me? She should have told me. Why wasn’t it on the news? Who was it who shot at her? Have you caught him?”
“Let’s sit down, Mr. Abbott,” Griffin said. Once he and Davis were seated across from Day Abbott’s beautiful antique mahogany desk, Davis said, “Perry really is all right. I’m all right as well. The shooter missed both of us.”
“Did you catch the man?”
“No, not yet.”
“You swear she wasn’t hurt?”
“She’s fine.” But not the Tiffany lamp she loved, he thought, a gift she’d told him Day’s own mother had given her when she graduated from college.
Day Abbott was pale, his hands fisted. “But why? It’s like that bloody note—someone’s trying to frighten her, trying to get to her mother through her. You know it, I know it, why can’t you put a stop to this?”
“We’re going to do exactly that,” Davis said. “Mr. Abbott, you’ve known Perry for a very long time and—”
“Yes, I have. We grew up together. And we’re going to get married and spend the rest of our lives together.” He sat forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “You’ve been guarding Perry since last Wednesday after her Harley was trashed, right?”
Davis nodded.
“But you still haven’t learned anything at all useful.”
Davis ignored that. “Mr. Abbott, would you please tell us your whereabouts last night around ten o’clock?”
“Me? You’re asking if I was the one who shot at Perry? That’s insane. I love Perry. Why would I want to kill her?”
Griffin said, “Actually, Mr. Abbott, more of the bullets were aimed at Agent Sullivan.”
Day Abbott seamed his lips in a flash of rage. “So now you have me gunning after FBI agents? I don’t particularly like him, but I don’t want to kill him, either.”
Davis eyed this sleek young cannibal, probably a future congressman. He didn’t particularly like him, either. He knew Perry hadn’t told him yet she wasn’t going to marry him, felt a moment of sympathy for him about it, until he saw the gleam of contempt in Day’s eyes. “We don’t think you’re involved, Mr. Abbott. This is a necessary formality. Tell us where you were last evening.”
Abbott steepled his fingertips together, tapped them to his chin. “Last night? I had planned, of course, to spend the evening with Perry, but that didn’t happen.” He looked at Davis for a long moment, then said, “Turns out she would have been safer with me last night than with you.” He got no response, and shrugged. “I was with two friends, watching Mrs. Black’s interview on Fox. I’ll have Cindy give you their information.”
Davis said, “You’ve known Perry all her life, as you have her mother. You and Perry were raised nearly
as brother and sister.”
Day said stiffly, “We were. That was a long time ago. Now we’re adults. Now things are different. Look, Agent Sullivan, you should focus on who’s trying to kill Ambassador Black, it will be the same person, then this will all be over and we can get back to our lives. Then you won’t have to be near Perry anymore.”
Griffin wasn’t blind to Day Abbott’s jealousy. He obviously wanted Davis out of her life and out of his sight. “Do you own a gun, Mr. Abbott?” he asked.
“What? A gun? Of course not. What kind of question is that?”
Griffin continued. “Again, a formality, Mr. Abbott. But your father owns a Smith and Wesson, right? Did he give it to you when he moved out and left the state, or did he forget it, leave it here?”
Day Abbott shrugged. “I remember my dad’s gun from when I was a kid, but after he left, I never saw it again. I thought about it once or twice over the years and assumed he’d taken it with him. A lot of people own guns. How do you even know about my dad’s gun?”
Davis said, “Your father registered the Smith and Wesson some thirty years ago. Do you know where it is?”
“No.” Abbott gave Davis a full-bodied sneer. “The person who shot at you and Perry last night—did you get hit? Is that why you’re wearing that dick Band-Aid on your face?”
Davis grinned at the man who looked about ready to burst out of his beautiful suit and leap on him. Ready to make things personal, Day? Davis said, “What, you don’t like a jungle theme? It’s from Perry’s medicine cabinet, of course. She smoothed it down herself.”
Griffin, his voice as smooth as the teak railing on his dad’s prized sailboat, said, “The gun used last night, it was the same caliber as your father’s pistol. To cut off this thread, we’d like to check it for ballistics, if you have it somewhere.”
“But—”
Davis said over him, “You speak to your father often, Mr. Abbott?” Davis began writing in a black notebook, aware Abbott was watching him.
“Every week,” Day said. “Thursday night, even when he’s traveling or I’m traveling. My parents split up a long time ago. When he left, my dad made me promise we’d always speak once a week. We have. It’s a habit. He’s my dad.”
Day got slowly to his feet. He was looking at them like they were a couple low-class slugs. He said, “Well, are we done here?”
Griffin said, “Perhaps you could tell us why you think all of this is happening, Mr. Abbott.”
Day leaned over, splayed his palms on the desktop. “I believe, as does my mother, that Mrs. Black unwittingly hurt someone in England and that this someone wants revenge. About the threatening notes to Perry, the shots fired at her last night, I can only think it’s meant to hurt her mother.” He straightened. “I really can’t do your jobs for you, Agents. I know of no one who would want to hurt Perry or her mother here in the United States. Now, I have nothing more to say to either of you. I want you to leave now.”
Davis said, “Mr. Abbott, what does your mother think of your marriage plans with Perry?”
Day was silent for a moment. “My mother may very nearly rule the known world, but she doesn’t rule me.” He caught himself. “It’s obvious Perry doesn’t fit the mold of the lovely young professional woman, what with her riding around on her Harley like a wannabe Hells Angel. I know my mother thinks Perry’s behavior is her dad’s fault. Mom said Brundage Black was selfish, that he heaped all his attention, all his pride, on the little daughter he made into his clone, and he never let her go. I don’t expect you to understand any of that, Agent, since you hardly know Perry. But realize this. I do love her and she loves me. As for my mother, she’ll come around.”
Davis pulled a small plastic envelope from his pocket. “Would you mind giving us a cheek swab?”
Day stared at him as if he’d grown another ear.
“It won’t hurt,” Davis said.
Griffin saw the pulse pounding in Day Abbott’s neck. His face was flushed, anger flowing hot and heavy. “You want my DNA? You’ve got to be joking.”
“Nope, not at all.”
“You like throwing around your cop’s weight, Sullivan? Intimidating people? You’ve been trying to drive a wedge between Perry and me all along, and that’s why she hasn’t returned my calls. You think she’d ever have anything to do with you? Once this is over, once you’re out of her life, she’ll come back to me and she’ll never give you another thought.”
His sneer was full-blown now. “I’ll bet you couldn’t take her out of the States, not on your cop’s salary. Tell you what, Sullivan, I’ll think of you when I take Perry to Cannes, while we’re wandering the beaches, while I’m making love to her. Take your stupid swab and get out of my office. You’re deluded if you think I’ll give you my DNA.”
Davis held it together, mostly, but his voice was flippant, and he knew he was goading Day Abbott. “No, not deluded; the FBI shrinks tested me, said I was good to go,” Davis said. “Whether Perry ends up with you on the beach in Cannes or with me on the Champs-Élysées in Paris, we’ll get there quicker if you give us your DNA. It’s a simple cheek swab. We’re going to be asking everyone involved in the case, everyone with access to Perry, to give a DNA sample willingly. If you do, you’ll very likely be out of the running as our shooter last night. Here.”
Day Abbott never looked away from Davis. “Get out, both of you.”
“You want us to think you were firing only at me last night?”
“I didn’t shoot at you!”
“You’re a smart guy, Mr. Abbott. You’ve got to see it’s the way to go. If you’re cleared, you may never have to see me again.”
Day Abbott said, “I am exercising my rights, nothing more. I don’t know anything about my father’s Smith and Wesson. You have no basis for a warrant of any kind. You have absolutely no reason to be here now. I want no more of your harassment. Leave.”
Davis continued holding out the Q-tip.
Day splayed his big hands on his desktop, leaned toward them again. He said, his voice low and vicious, “You’re nothing but a yahoo, Sullivan, brandishing a gun. Perry won’t fall for you. You’re too low-class. You’re spitting in the wind. Get out of here and take pretty boy with you.”
Davis said to Griffin, “Well, truth be told, I wouldn’t want him for my lobbyist.” He saluted Day Abbott and strolled to the door, Griffin on his heels. They heard Day Abbott’s thick, fast breathing behind them. Davis opened the door, turned back. “This could be your best chance to get back with Perry quickly. Otherwise, we might have to ask you down to the Hoover Building later for more questions.”
Day Abbott shook his head, gave him a disgusted look. “You know what, Sullivan? You’re a liar; I’m not. Give me the swab. Believe me, you and I will never talk again without my lawyer present.”
Davis handed him the swab, watched him rub it on the inside of his cheek. He carefully slid it back into the bag.
“Thank you. Won’t take very long to check this out,” Davis said. “Hey, it didn’t hurt, did it?”
Day stood behind his desk, arms crossed tight over his chest, holding himself still. That was the last look Davis got of the man who hated him now, and who happened to be the son of the secretary of state. Savich would not be pleased. Davis closed the door behind him, with no good-byes.
Davis stood against the mirrored elevator wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “All right, Griffin, what do you think of Mr. Day Abbott?”
Griffin said slowly, “Other than he’s so jealous of you he’d like to drive a stake through your heart, he’s probably a decent guy.
“I think he wants this over, and that’s why he gave us the cheek swab. You know as well as I do he had nothing to do with the shooting last night. You never thought he did. I’m glad it didn’t get physical. Even so, it wouldn’t surprise me if he tells his mama two idiot agents were all over him.”
Davis said, “Unfortunately, I agree with you. Hey, Abbott nailed you, though, pretty boy. Will I see you
modeling underwear in a magazine someday?”
Griffin laughed. “Nope, I’d make a crappy model. Except maybe for Anna.”
Criminal Apprehension Unit
Monday afternoon
Savich was surprised it took his boss Jimmy Maitland several hours to call him. He put the delay down to the secretary of state being in transit from New York that morning. Davis and Griffin had filled him in on their interview with Day Abbott, starting with the good news about getting a DNA sample and an alibi from him for the previous night, which they could check on. But neither of them would quite meet his eyes. The only other good news Savich heard was that Davis hadn’t slugged him. Savich asked him, “So he insulted you? How?”
“Let’s see, he called me a low-class slug, a liar hiding behind his shield, basically a loser, that sort of thing,” Davis said.
“So you lost control of the situation. Tell me that isn’t what you had in mind all along, is it, Davis?”
“No,” Davis said. “Yeah, it was a mistake.”
Savich sat down, waved to the chairs in front of his desk. “Tell me about it.”
Maitland said now to Savich over the phone, “Director Comey relayed a call from the secretary of state. She gave him an earful about Agents Sullivan and Hammersmith doing a number on her son this morning while they were interviewing him, said they were completely inappropriate. This is, alas, the secretary of state we’re talking about here, Savich, a woman with so much mojo she gets our director on the phone and reams him out. Please tell me Madame Secretary has been misinformed.”
“Sir, Sullivan and Hammersmith interviewed him about the attack on Perry Black’s home last night, entirely appropriate, since Day Abbott is closely involved with her. I’m told it was Abbott who started with the insults. You know Davis, though, he’s not very good at lying still while getting kicked, but he didn’t let things get that far out of hand. We had Griffin along as a witness.”
Power Play (An FBI Thriller) Page 25
