Chapter Twenty-One
Sid was watching Elena as she pounded out a story about a budget fight on Capitol Hill. She sat at a work station, earphones pressed against her head, editing an interview from a subcommittee chairman who was the only member of Congress who was available when Now News needed audio for the four o’clock feed. He was worried about her. She had been even more volatile than usual these past few days and the staff was jittery, as though a wild cat was loose in the newsroom. He knew why she was nervous. He knew more than he should have about her relationship with Dave, mostly because neither she nor Dave had ever tried to hide the explosiveness of their on-again-off-again romance. He thought the cat comparison was apt. She was the cat and Dave was the dog. She was the beauty and Dave was the beast, a feral, slobbering newshound who would rather be chasing thieves than beautiful women. Elena was most certainly beautiful, a thought he tried to remove from his mind.
His cell phone made its noise, a ringtone that seemed like a good idea when he bought it but now rattled him with its odd, Dr. Strangelove-like tones. Did anyone even know who Dr. Strangelove was anymore? he wondered, as he stared at the phone and saw that Dave was calling. “How’s the ace reporter?”
“We need to talk in person.” Dave sounded scared.
“What’s up?”
“How fast can you get here?”
“Tell me what’s up and I’ll tell you.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
Sid thought of the listening devices in the cabin and it occurred to him that Dave wanted to talk about something that he didn’t want to share with Frank and the others who were involved, whoever they were and whatever they were about. “It’s rush hour. Sixty-six will be backed up all the way to Gainesville. It might take me three hours.”
“See you then.”
It took Sid nearly four hours to get to the farm and the drive up the mountain was treacherous because the temperature had dropped and ice had formed in low spots. Frank saw the headlights coming up and was waiting when Sid pulled in. “Nice to see you again, Sid. I didn’t know you were coming. Let me get you a drink and you can warm up. I’ll get Dave.”
“Thanks, but I’ll just walk on up and bang on his door.” Sid tried to sound friendly, like a man who didn’t want to intrude.
“Hell, I’ll go with you. Tell you what, I’ll slip inside and get a fifth of something and meet you up there.” Frank went inside to get the liquor as Sid headed up the drive, slipping on the ice patches.
Dave had seen Sid’s car pull in and was waiting at the door. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said, guiding Sid around to the back of the cabin and away from the camera.
“Our friend’s on his way with a bottle, so we need to make this quick. What’s up?”
Dave related his conversation with Ossening, and mentioned the earlier phone call in which the agent had suggested that there may be multiple killers, leaving open the possibility that an organization or group might be behind the attacks on the priests.
“I knew it!” Sid pounded his fist into his palm. “You’re a goddam goat they’re using to bring this son of a bitch in. Now he knows you’re here. We need to get you out of here to someplace where he can’t find you and neither can Frank and O’Neil and anybody else in this mess.”
The two men heard the sound of boots on dry leaves and then the beam of a flashlight coming around the corner of the cabin. “Hey there.” It was Frank. “Did I interrupt something?” Dave and Sid could not see Frank’s face behind the flashlight.
“We’re just enjoying the night air,” Sid said, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
“It’s a bit chilly, that’s for sure.” Frank was using his salesman’s voice. “I got a little something that’ll warm the heart and everything else.”
Sid walked toward the front of the cabin. “That sounds good to me.”
The three men went inside, stomping their feet on the mat by the door. The cabin was warm from the fire in the wood stove. The men removed their jackets and hung them on the large hooks on the wall, then they sat at the table while Frank poured three tumblers of bourbon.
“Let me see if I can guess why you’re here. Dave received a call from an F.B.I. Agent named Ossening telling him that the murder of Ranger Etter may have been related to the killings of the priests in D.C. That means the killer is out here. Dave here called you. Now you think Dave ought to be kept somewhere else until all of this blows over. Am I correct in my assessment of where we are tonight?” Frank’s salesman smile was gone, replaced by a face that looked very serious.
Dave sat up and took a drink of the bourbon. “I’m guessing that you fellows know every time I go to the bathroom.”
“Pretty much, yes.”
“And you know that this killer is sniffing around looking for me?”
“We know that he’s sniffing around. Actually, we think he’s looking for your girlfriend, Elena.”
Dave let that sink in. “Why would he be looking for her?”
“It’s complicated. He’s a pretty sick guy.”
“Why isn’t he looking for her in D.C.?” Sid was skeptical. It didn’t make sense, not as it was being laid out by Frank.
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Do you know who he is?”
Frank was quiet for a long time. “Yes.”
“Why don’t you just grab him?”
“I can’t get into that right now.”
“Is there more than one killer?” Dave laid it out for Frank to consider.
“There’s a lot happening that I can’t get in to. I just want to say one thing to both of you. Dave, you are as safe here right now as you will be anywhere. Nothing can happen that we won’t know about. Nothing. And I’ll tell you something else. Elena will be safe here, too. If you can get her to come down to see you I think, we think, we can flush this guy out and maybe make things happen. Think about it.”
“Explain to me what that makes any sense. He’s here waiting for her. He knows where I am. Aren’t we just playing into his hands if we bring her down here?”
“I would say he’s playing into ours.” Frank poured himself another drink.
“You’re pretty loose with other people’s safety,” Sid said.
“Life ain’t safe,” Frank said. “Take Bob the Bear down at the piano. He thought he lived a pretty safe life, I’d wager, but now he’s holding drinks for me. To the bold go the victories.”
The three men sat in silence while they pondered their predicament and sipped the bourbon. Each was lost in his own thoughts. Dave was feeling the hair on his neck stand up and he imagined a knife-wielding fiend coming at him and Elena and his breath caught when he considered the implications of inviting her to come to visit him. He weighed her coming versus her remaining in Washington where her safety was not assured. Whoever was tracking him had no trouble finding either him or her, so perhaps the risk of flushing out the killer was reasonable.
Sid was feeling old and responsible. He looked at Dave and imagined him dead and he, too, thought of Elena and her safety. The question boiled down to Frank and O’Neil and the others who were working with them. Could they be trusted to keep Dave and Elena alive? Could they be trusted at all? Then the reporter in him thought about the story that would result from a successful outcome and smiled. It would make headlines all over the world.
Frank was observing the other two, trying to read their minds and the moods. Sid would be allowed to go back to D.C. but Dave must remain in place. He could not be permitted to leave. There was too much at stake.
Butterfly Knife Page 21
