Simple Genius

by David Baldacci

  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.

  CHAPTER

  68

  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?”

  “Wait a minute,” Michelle said. “You suspected that Rivest was murdered because of the absence of towels, bath mat and the plunger.”

  “Right. I told Hayes and he asked the ME to check into whether any trace from the plunger was on the body.”

  “And?”

  Sean said, “And we hadn’t heard back before the ME died.”

  “If the morgue got blown up because someone knew you suspected murder, how would they have found out you did suspect something?”

  “Well, Hayes could have carelessly let it slip to someone.”

  “Or deliberately told someone,” Michelle countered.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Just playing devil’s advocate. What do you really know about him?”

  “He’s a county sheriff.”

  “But we don’t know where his true loyalties lie.”

  “You getting paranoid on me?”

  “With Babbage Town and Camp Peary right across the river I’d say you’re totally screwed up if you’re not paranoid.”

  Sean nodded. “All we can do is keep chipping away. See if Alicia comes up with anything. Run down the German angle. I don’t see another alternative right now.”

  “And maybe it still comes down to us going over that fence,” she said.

  After Michelle left Sean pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number on it. He punched in the numbers, and after the beep said, “Valerie, it’s Sean Carter. Can I see you?”

  As Michelle was walking back to the cottage, she saw something up ahead that made her flat-out sprint.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she screamed.

  Viggie stopped and stared at her, the wide smile on her face melting away as she let go of the trash bag she was holding and it fell to the ground.

  Michelle looked inside her truck. It was spick-and-span clean. She turned to the girl. “How dare you mess with my things? This is my truck. Who gave you permission to go inside my truck and touch my things? Who!”

  Viggie fell back a step. “I… uh. You told me you could never get it clean, no matter how hard you tried. I thought you’d be happy.”

  Michelle grabbed the trash bag and started pul
ling things out and tossing them back in the truck. She screamed, “This is not trash. Get the hell away from my truck!”

  Viggie turned and ran sobbing back to the house. Michelle didn’t seem to notice. She was busy picking things out of the trash bag and layering her floorboards with them.

  “Catch you at a bad time?”

  She whirled around to see Horatio staring at her and Michelle inwardly groaned.

  “Just a misunderstanding,” she said quickly.

  “No, I think your meaning was crystal-clear.”

  “Get the hell off my back!”

  “So do we just leave Viggie in the house crying her guts out, or what?”

  Michelle glanced toward the house; Viggie’s wails could be easily heard. Michelle slumped back against the truck and the tennis shoe and banana peel she was holding slipped to the ground. A tear trickled down her face. She sat down on the running board of her truck and stared at the grass.

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle said in a low voice. “But she was messing with my stuff. She had no right to do that.”

  Horatio came over to stand by the truck. “Well, in a sense you’re absolutely right. People shouldn’t mess with other people’s stuff, but I think Viggie was just trying to help you, or at least she thought she was. You can see that, can’t you?”

  Michelle nodded her head curtly.

  “Have you thought any more about the hypnosis?”

  “I told you, if we come back alive—”

  He cut her off. “Right, but let’s skip the histrionics, because I’m not sure you have all that much time left.”

  She slowly lifted her head to stare at him. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what it sounded like.”

  She stood and tossed the garbage bag inside her truck. “What the hell good would it do? I’m obviously too far gone.”

  CHAPTER

  69

  THEY WERE WALKING ALONG THE BEACH. Valerie carried her sandals while Sean slouched guiltily along, his head bowed, his loafers quickly filling up with sand. He had called Valerie because he couldn’t think of another promising line of investigation, and because of her husband’s conversation with Michelle. However, she’d pounced on him as soon as he’d stepped out of his car. She knew all about Sean Carter, including that his real name was Sean King.

  “I take it you’ve talked to your husband?” he said.

  “Oh yes! If there’s one thing old Ian is really good at it’s finding out stuff. You’re ex–Secret Service and you’re down here investigating those murders at Babbage Town. I can’t believe I fell for your lines. I really can’t believe it.”

  “Valerie, it wasn’t exactly like that.”

  She whirled on him. “Are you denying you used me to try and get information on my husband? Are you denying that you followed me to that bar after Ian told you to back off?”

  “No, I don’t deny that. But—”

  “Then there are no buts.”

  “Yes I was fishing for information, but I was just doing my job.”

  “What you did was unforgivable.”

  “Valerie. I’m sorry if it hurt you. But when you’re trying to find out how people were murdered… If I’d had any other way of getting info I would have.”

  She stared up at him, her arms folded across her chest, her sandals in the sand where she had dropped them. The ocean breeze whipped her white slacks against her legs. Slowly the look of fury on her face faded. “I guess I never expected it to happen to me. I never expected to be taken in. Not after Ian anyway.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I thought he married me because he loved me. I was obviously wrong about that.”

  “Why then?”

  “Who the hell knows? And then you come along and for the first time in my marriage I think, what would it be like to be with another man. You! You son of a bitch!”

  Sean stared uncomfortably at her. “Valerie, I can only say that it was very difficult for me to keep a professional distance.”

  “Professional distance! Oh, that makes me feel so loved.” Tears were sliding down her cheeks and she angrily wiped them away.

  “I’m sorry, Valerie. I really am.”

  “Just save the lies for someone else. I don’t need to hear them.”

  She stopped, stooped down, picked up a seashell and angrily flung it at a wave. She whirled around and grabbed his jacket with her hand. “And do you want to know the real kicker?”

  Sean’s expression showed that, no, he really didn’t want to know the kicker. Yet he said, “Tell me, I deserve it.”

  “Maybe you don’t.”

  “Valerie, if I could take it all back, I would, but I can’t. So just tell me.”

  Her gaze finally broke off from him, but only for a second. “I can’t tell you how much I want to go to bed with you. After all this shit. After everything you’ve done, used me, betrayed me. How much of a loser am I? How much! Because I want to screw your freaking brains out. What the hell does that say about me, Sean!”

  She started sobbing. He went to hold her but she pushed him away. He took her in his arms again and this time she let him hold her.

  A few minutes passed while the pair stood there, swaying in the sand together.

  Finally, Valerie pulled away, took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Look, can we just go somewhere a little more private than this. I… I mean…” She took a deep breath. “I should hate you, but I don’t. That first night in the bar when I blew you off, I left there thinking I was the biggest idiot in the world, because I could just sense there was far more to you.” She added quietly, “Far more than I ever saw in my marriage. So can we please just go somewhere?”

  “Sure, we can go somewhere, Valerie,” Sean said. He took her hand. “But it can’t be more than that. And I know this is going to sound crazy, but I don’t think you want it to be more than that either.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you’re still in love with your husband.”

  “This is really wonderful,” the voice said. “Really special.”

  They both looked up at the man as he walked toward them.

  “Oh my God!” Valerie hissed.

  Ian Whitfield limped across the sand.

  Sean stepped in front of Valerie. “This is not really what it looks like, Whitfield.”

  Whitfield stopped directly in front of Sean. “You don’t really want to go down that road, do you? Because bullshit lies might make me even more upset than I already am. And that would be quite an accomplishment, I can tell you.”

  “Ian, don’t!” Valerie said frantically.

  He didn’t even bother looking at her. “You had drinks with my wife, then you had dinner with her and now you’re walking on the beach holding hands. Are you suicidal or just stupid?”

  “And if you knew all of that, why am I still standing here? Why didn’t you have your goons take me out after the Mojito at the bar?” Sean took a step back and braced himself as the other man looked ready to start swinging.

  “I’m not the mob, King. I don’t have people whacked. I’m just a civil servant working for the American people.”

  “Okay, Mr. Civil Servant, piece of advice, work less and spend more