by Stuart Woods
Todd stood at the corner of the row of hangars and watched the airplane turn again and taxi toward him. Now the sun was reflecting off the windshield of the Cessna, and Todd couldn’t make out either of the people inside. He stepped back behind a corner of the corrugated metal building next to him and waited for the airplane to pass him, when he could get a better view of its occupants.
Then, from his position at the corner of the hangar opposite, he saw the door across from him go up. Apparently, the owner used a garage-door remote control to operate the big bifold door. The airplane slowed, and he caught sight of a wingtip as it turned away from him. Now he could look around the corner and see the whole airplane, but as it entered its hangar, the engine died, the airplane came to a stop, and the bifold door came rattling down. He had seen nothing of the occupants.
That was smoothly done, Todd sun was rthought. The owner could have stopped, fussed with his airplane, then affixed a tow bar and pushed it backward into the hangar, but instead, he had simply driven it inside. Of course, when he departed the hangar again he would have to push the airplane out, but Todd had no way of knowing when that would be.
There was probably a car inside the hangar, too, so the owner could drive, instead of fly, away. Todd walked from his hiding place toward the hangar, then walked around to the rear corner, looking for a window or an opening that would allow him to see inside, but the place was sealed.
He stepped out from the hangar, and he had to admire the way it was built. There was a bifold door at the rear, as well as in front: the owner could get into his airplane, start the engine, then depart through the rear door, again without exposing himself to people on the ground.
As Todd stood there, a light went on over his head. There was a security spotlight at each corner, and as he looked up, he saw a window on a second story.
He couldn’t get far enough away to see who was inside without bumping into another hangar. Todd walked back to the front of the building and looked toward where his Bonanza was parked. The fuel truck was just pulling away from it.
If Teddy Fay was upstairs, Todd hoped he didn’t have surveillance cameras, as well as security lighting. He started back toward the FBO to pay his bill and fly back to Manassas.
Upstairs, Teddy was staring at a flat-screen TV, which had been divided into four parts, each assigned to an outside camera.
“What is it?” Lauren asked, walking up behind him and looking at the screens.
“There was a man outside,” Teddy said, “but he’s gone now.”
“There are all sorts of people around here,” Lauren said, “especially at this hour on a Sunday.”
“You’re right,” Teddy said, returning the screen to one large one, with CNN on it. “I won’t worry about it.” He went to his reclining chair to watch the news. “What’s for dinner?”
48
Dino sat in the living room of the suite and pored over a list of names of White House women, and their assignments and locations, that Tim Coleman, Will Lee’s chief of staff, had faxed over from the White House.
“Who did we miss?” Stone asked.
“Everybody, apparently. There are a couple hundred names on this list.”
“Is there anybody, anybody at all who seems likely?”
“Not to me there isn’t,” Dino replied. He handed the list to Stone. “You take a look at it.”
“Of course, Charlotte Kirby didn’t look likely to us, until we interviewed her.”
“She didn’t seem likely until she was dead,” Dino reminded him.
“I don’t have a clue where to start,” Stone said.
“Neither do I.”
“You know, if the March Hare hadn’t killed Charlotte Kirby, we’d be happily back in New York, and the Lees would have put this whole thing out of their minds.”
“Yeah, and the March Hare would be safe. Charlotte was a murder too far. a murdes r div
“Why was Charlotte a danger to her?” Stone asked.
“Because she was talking to us,” Dino said.
“Yes, but she was through talking to us. The newspaper articles put an end to that. She would never have spoken to us again.”
“I guess the March Hare didn’t know that. The same was true of Milly Hart and Mrs. Brandon. They had told us everything they knew, too, but still Ms. Hare felt she had to kill them.”
Stone put down the list of White House women. “So she didn’t know enough about our investigation to see that we were getting nowhere.”
“Either that, or she just likes killing other women.”
“Dino, can you remember a case of a woman who was a serial killer killing other women?”
Dino thought about it. “Now that you mention it, no. Men who are serial killers kill mostly women, and women serial killers always seem to kill men.”
“Can you remember a case where a serial killer, male or female, killed this many people for this reason-the elimination of witnesses?”
“Well,” Dino said, “maybe that’s happened with the Mafia at some point in the past. They sometimes had a tendency to wipe out a list of people they considered threats.”
“But these people weren’t threats to the March Hare.”
“She didn’t know that,” Dino pointed out. “She just assumed they were.”
“And she didn’t linger at the scenes. She hit these women in the head-or, in Charlotte’s case, shot her-and got out of there, not leaving any trace evidence. Could she be a cop?”
“Stone, everybody in the United States knows how crime-scene evidence is collected and analyzed-you don’t have to be a cop anymore. There are three or four very popular TV shows every week that explain it in detail.”
“Okay, so it didn’t have to be a cop. But she knew which women we were talking to.”
“It’s Washington, remember? Everybody in town seemed to know who we were talking to.”
“There’s one possibility we haven’t discussed,” Stone said.
“Tell me, please.”
“Suppose Charlotte’s death really was a suicide, not a murder.”
“Well, that’s a very attractive notion,” Dino said, “since it would confirm everything we told the president and the first lady the other night. But how do you explain the lack of prints on the magazine and the ammo in it?”
“Look, we know the March Hare is a very careful killer. Assume for a moment that Charlotte was the March Hare. She may have prepared the gun for use in a future killing, thus wiping the magazine and the ammo free of prints.”
Dino looked hopeful. “Now that, I like. It makes perfect sense, and it has the wonderful added advantage of making us look right the first time.”
“So why am I not calling the president right now and explaining that Charlotte Kirby committed suicide?”
The phone rang, and Stone picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Holly.”
“Good morning.”
“I’ve had a thought,” Holly said.
“Shoot. We’re about all out of thoughts.”
“What if Charlotte Kirby really did commit suicide? Maybe she just wiped her prints off the magazine and the bullets out of an excess of caution.”
Stone laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Great minds think alike,” Stone said. “Dino and I were just discussing the same idea.”
“You were not!”
“I promise you, we were.”
“You just like the idea because it makes you and Dino look better.”
“I can’t deny that benefit,” Stone said, “but you had the idea independently, and you aren’t trying to make us look better, are you?”
“Well, since I brought you into this, it makes me look better, too.”
“Tell you what,” Stone said. “You go see the director right now and tell her about our mutual theory. If she buys it, we’re out of here.”
“She’s out of the office today,” Holly said. “Maybe tomorrow, too.”
“W
here is she?”
“She goes places unannounced all the time, and she doesn’t share that information with me.”
“Should I call the president and tell him?”
Holly thought for a moment. “No, it’s better if we go through Kate. That way, if she likes it, we’ll have her on our side, and she can take it to the president.”
“I like the idea of her taking it to the president. I’d just as soon not see him for a while, myself.”
“You don’t sound entirely convinced of our theory,” Holly said.
“I’m afraid to be entirely convinced of anything,” Stone said. “Once bitten, you know.”
“I know. Well, we can wait until Kate is back in the office, or you can go to the president now. What’s your choice?”
“What’s your advice?”
“I’d wait for Kate. I’d like to have her on our side.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Stone said. “Dinner tonight?”
“What else have I got to do?” Holly said. “I can shake loose here by seven.”
“See you then.” Stone hung up and explained to Dino.
“Okay,” Dino said, standing up and stretching. “I’m going to the Smithsonian.”
“What part of the Smithsonian? It’s a big place.”
“I’ll go to the part with all the airplanes, if you’ll go with me.”
“You’re on,” Stone said.
49
Stone and Dino stood under a highly polished DC-3, with Eastern Airlines markings, suspended from the ceiling of the museum. “Isn’t that gorgeous?” Stone asked.
“It sure is,” Dino said. “I took my first airplane ride in one of those, from the old La Guardia Marine Air Terminal to Boston.”iv>
“That airframe could really take it. Some of them did more than a hundred thousand hours.”
Dino tapped Stone’s elbow. “Look at that,” he said.
Stone followed Dino’s gaze to where a woman had set down a large handbag and was rummaging through it for something. This went on and on, with objects being removed from the bag, until she finally came up with a tiny camera. She took a photo of the DC-3, then tossed the camera back into her bag, along with all the things she had removed.
“Can you believe it?” Dino asked. “Why do they carry all that stuff around? Shelley has one just as bad.”
“Holly, bless her heart, takes a more male attitude,” Stone said. “She actually has pockets in some of her clothes.”
They moved on to another exhibit.
They were standing in front of the first American spacecraft when Stone’s cell phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Stone, it’s Kerry Smith, at the FBI.”
“Hello, Kerry.”
“I wonder if you and Dino could come and see me tomorrow morning? I’d like an update on your investigation, if you have the time.”
“Actually, Kerry, tomorrow morning might be an ideal time to brief you. What time?”
“Eleven o’clock, in my office?”
“See you then.” Stone hung up and turned to Dino. “Kerry Smith wants a briefing on our investigation tomorrow at eleven.”
“Sounds like a good time to pull the rip cord and bail out of this mess,” Dino said.
“And maybe by that time Holly will have been able to brief Kate Lee, and she, the president.”
“I like it,” Dino said. “We can burn all our bridges at once.”
“Yeah, then we can beat it out of town before another body turns up.”
“I’m not going to be responsible for explaining any more corpses after that,” Dino said.
Stone’s phone went off again. “Hello?”
“It’s Holly. I went back to the cell phone locator program, and Fair Sutherlin’s phone is alive again and on the move.”
“Where is it?”
“Let’s see: it’s moving right past the Smithsonian Institution right now. Seems to be stuck in traffic outside the Air and Space wing.”
“Holy shit! That’s where we are!” Stone grabbed Dino’s arm and ran for the door. “Come on!”
Dino was trying to keep up with the longer-legged Stone. “What the fuck is going on?”
“It’s Fair’s cell phone!” They hit the front door running, attracting the notice of a uniformed security guard. Stone stood on the front steps of the museum, looking up and down the street.
“Will you please tell me what you’re doing?” Dino asked plaintively. “Maybe I can help.”
“Fair Sutherlin’s cell phone has come to life, and it’s right here in front of us!” Stone put his phone to his ear. “Are you still there, Holly?”
“Yes, what do you see?”
“A bunch of traffic, stopped by a traffic cop. There’s a fender bender down the street. What am I supposed to look for?”
“How should I know? It could be in one of those cars. It could be in somebody’s pocket. It could be in the gutter!”
The cop was waving traffic on, now, and the line began to move. “What do you see, Dino?”
“Traffic and pedestrians, what else?”
“Fair’s cell phone is here somewhere.”
“Stone?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“The phone is moving again and picking up speed.”
“We’re talking about fifty cars, at least,” Stone said. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Are there any unusual vehicles?”
“No, there are half a dozen of those plain vanilla government sedans with government seals you see all over town. There’s a moving van, a tow truck, one Rolls-Royce, and a zillion assorted cars.”
“Shit,” Holly said. “Where is your car?”
“Illegally parked down the street. Don’t worry, you’ll get the ticket.”
“Run for it. I’ll keep an eye on where it’s headed and direct you.”
“I’ll call you back when we’re on the move.” He ended the call. “Come on, Dino, we’re going to chase that phone.” The two of them sprinted a block and a half down the avenue, got into the car, and got it started. Stone called Holly’s cell number.
“I’m here. Go straight ahead for four blocks and turn right on Fourteenth Street. It’s about ten blocks ahead of you.”
“There’s a lot of traffic,” Stone said.
“You’ve got flashers on that car,” she said, “use them, but don’t use the siren.”
“Dino, find the switch for the flashers!”
Dino found the switch. “Have we got a siren?” He found the switch, and the noise began.
“Damn it, Stone,” Holly yelled, “I told you not to use the siren!”
“What? I can’t hear you! Dino, turn off the damned thing!”
Dino found the switch again, and now Stone could hear Holly screaming.
“You don’t have to yell, now,” he yelled. “It’s off.”
“All right. When you get to Pennsylvania Avenue, turn right. The White House will be to your left.”
Stone muscled the car in and out of lanes and began to make headway. “I’m turning right on Pennsylvania!”
“Tell Dino to call out the landmark buildings as you pass them, that way I’ll know whether you’re catching up,” Holly said.
“Dino, call out the names of buildings as you see them!”
“Okay, we’ve got the IRS on the right,” Dino said. “Hoover Building coming up, now the National Archives, now the Federal Trade Commission. I can see the Capitol up ahead.”
“Hold it!” Holly shouted. “I’ve lost it.”
“Where?” Stone asked.
“I don’t know-somewhere on Pennsylvania Avenue. It just vanished.”
“I’m pulling over and waiting until you locate it again,” Stone said, then did so. He sat for fifteen minutes.
“Nope, it’s gone,” Holly said. “Nice try, though.”
“Gee, thanks,” Stone said.
“Well,” Dino said, “that’s gotta be our last clue. The batte
ry is going to run down eventually.”
Stone struck the steering wheel with his open hand. “Shit! We’re not going to be able to claim the March Hare is dead while that cell phone is out there!”
50
Stone, Dino, Holly, and Shelley dined at Clyde’s,in Georgetown, just to get out of the hotel suite. As they entered, Stone whispered to Holly, “Don’t tell Shelley about Fair’s cell phone. We’re meeting with Kerry Smith tomorrow morning, and we may not want to introduce that information into the mix.”
“I’m invited, too,” Holly replied, “and don’t worry, I don’t want to bring it up either.”
Everybody ordered a steak, and Stone ordered a bottle of a good California Cabernet. The mood was less festive than it usually was.
A camera flash went off, temporarily blinding everyone.
“Who the hell was that?” Dino demanded.
“I can’t even see you,” Shelley replied, “let alone whoever pulled that trigger.”
“My vision is coming back,” Holly said, “and I don’t see anyone with a camera, or even anybody looking at us.”
“I didn’t know Washington had paparazzi,” Dino said.
“Forget that,” Holly said. “Kate Lee got back this afternoon, and we had the conversation.”
“What conversation?” Shelley asked.
“The one where I told her that the investigation is over, that we all think Charlotte Kirby is the March Hare and that she killed herself.” She explained their thoughts about the lack of fingerprints on the magazine and ammo.
“Is that what you’re telling Kerry tomorrow morning?”
“Yep.”
“I’m on board with that. I’m as sick as you are of this whole business.”
“Unanimity can’t hurt,” Stone said. “You think Kerry will back us?”
“Stone, if you believe it, and if I believe it, we can make him believe it, too.”
“That’s fine, unless Kerry suddenly comes up with some evidence we don’t know about.”
“Kerry has been up to his ears with our new budget since you got here,” Shelley said. “He hasn’t had time to deal with anything else.”
