D.C. Dead (25 page)

Todd’s phone vibrated again. “So if an enemy tech is really good, is he going to be able to tell the difference between your phone and the original?”

“If he’s really, really good, he’ll notice some differences, but he’ll just think that Apple has made some changes, and if he cracks one of the three parts, the software will automatically be dumped.”

“So,” Todd said, “he’ll find an Apple phone with no software?”

“That’s better than leaving our software available for him to play with, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course it is,” Todd said. “That will protecƀt your software, but it’s not going to protect my operative. They’ll know immediately that he’s got a very sophisticated communications device that does not work like an Apple phone.”

“Well,” the man said, sounding exasperated, “what do you suggest?”

“What do
I
suggest?” Todd asked. “I’m not the designer here.”

The man gazed at the blowup of his design. “I suppose we could load the Apple software and our software on the same chip, and have only ours dumped.”

“Is there room on the chip for all that software?” Todd asked.

“Almost,” the man said. “We’ll have to write some new compression code.”

“Well, then,” Todd said, “that’s my suggestion. How long will it take you?”

“A few weeks,” the man said, looking doubtful.

“And what about the battery capacity? Is it going to be sufficient for transmitting in HF?”

“If it’s fully charged, and the message is brief, but if it’s plugged into an electrical outlet, your transmitting would be unlimited.”

“And what about the antenna?”

“It’s contained with the original antenna, but you’d have to send from outdoors or near a window.”

“Then find a way to supplement that antenna so that we can send from indoors. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of work to do, gentlemen,” Todd said. “Find a way to do it in a few days.” He stood up. “Thank you very much. We’ll see you here, same time next week, and we’ll expect a bug-free working model. And if you’re going to make the battery smaller than the original, you’d better print something on it that indicates that it’s a Mark Two.”

Everybody got up and shuffled out of the room. Todd’s phone was still vibrating.

Once out of the room, Todd checked the phone; his old number two was calling. He pressed the number to return.

“Yeah? Todd?”

“Don’t call me on this phone,” Todd said.

“But I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“All the more reason not to call me on this phone.” He broke the connection and returned to his office.

IT WAS NEARLY SEVEN O’CLOCK when Todd finished his summary of what he had seen at the tech presentation, and he was very tired. All he could think of was a large scotch, a TV dinner, and bed. He left his office and took the elevator to the garage, where he had a favored parking spot. He drove out to the gate, checked out there, and headed toward the apartment he had rented.

As he hit the main road he saw a car’s headlights appear in his rearview mirror. It was some distance back, but he reacted the way he’d been trained to. He accelerated, and the headlights disappeared, then the cell phone on his belt vibrated.

Todd looked at the calling number. “Yes?” he said into the phone.

“There’s a rest stop ahead. Pull into it.”

It was number two again. Todd pulled into the rest stop and got out of the car, his hand on the pistol under his jacket.

A black SUV pulled in behind him and switched off its lightˀoff its s, then the door opened. “Relax,” a voice said, “you know who I am.” He got out of the car and approached, his hand out.

Todd ignored the hand. “You’re breaking protocol,” he said. “The rule is no contact.”

“You wouldn’t talk on the phone,” the man said. “This is the only way I could reach you, and it’s important.”

“What’s so important?” Todd asked. “And this better be good.”

“It’s about Teddy Fay,” the man said.

Todd turned and started back toward his car without a word, but the man caught his arm and spun him around.

“Am I going to have to fight you to stop this nonsense?” Todd asked. “You know that’s a dead issue.”

“Listen to me, then do what you like,” number two said.

Todd’s shoulders sagged. “All right, what is it?”

“I’ve got my private pilot’s license now,” he said, “and I’ve been training for my instrument training over at Clinton Field. It’s just the sort of airport Teddy likes.”

“What’s your point?” Todd asked angrily.

“Twice I’ve seen a couple in a black Toyota convertible at the airport. I asked around, and they’re living in a hangar there. A guy named Karl Walters bought it six or seven years ago, but he hasn’t been around much. Now he’s living there with a girl.”

“And you think it’s Teddy? You wouldn’t know him if he stepped on your foot.”

“You’re right about that, Todd.”

Todd made to leave, but the man stopped him again.

“I don’t want to hear this,” Todd said.

“I don’t care whether you want to hear it or not, I’m going to say it. You’re right, I wouldn’t know Teddy from Adam, and both times I’ve seen the car, the reflection on the windshield kept me from seeing the driver.”

“You haven’t even seen him, but you think it’s Teddy? Jesus, I was obsessed with the guy, but you’re even worse.”

“I know the girl,” number two said. “I followed her in San Diego. It’s Lauren Cade. And where she is, Teddy is.”

Todd sighed. “I’m going to let this go,” he said, “but if I hear from you again about this or anything else, I’m going to bust you with Lance Cabot. Do you understand me?”

The man shrugged and walked back to his car without another word. In a moment, he drove away in a spray of gravel.

Todd got back into his car and sat, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his heart pounding. Finally, he started the car and resumed his trip home. “I’m forgetting this,” he said aloud to himself. “I’m putting it right out of my mind.”

40

STONE AND HOLLY WERE SITTING UP IN BED HAVING BREAKFAST the following morning when Stone’s cell phone buzzed on the bedside table.

“Dad? It’s Peter.”

“Peter! How are you?” Peter and Ben, Dino’s son, were in their first year at the Yale School of Drama. “I haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks.”

“I know, I’ve got a play opening soon, and it’s been crazy here.”

“I expect so.”

“I was hoping you’d be able to come up for the opening?”

“I’d really love to do that, Peter, but I’m in Washington, D.C., working on something really important, and I don’t think I can get away.”

“So this is that murder at the White House, and those other women?”

Stone was stunned. “How on earth can you know that?”

“Haven’t you seen the morning papers? We get the
Times
delivered, and it’s on page eight.”

Stone covered the phone and turned toward Holly. “Will you please get the papers from the front door?” She got out of bed and padded, naked, into the living room. “How long is the play going to run? Maybe I can get up later.”

“Only four nights, through the weekend. Tell me about this thing you’re working on, Dad. It sounds like there might be a film in it.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Stone said. Holly returned with the papers. “The
Times
, page eight,” he said to her, and she began looking.

“Why not? It’s public property now.”

Holly shoved the paper in front of him. “Hang on, I’ve got the paper here.” Stone read the article, which took up half a page. “It appears,” he said to Peter, “that the
New York Times
knows as much about this case as I do.”

“The
Washington Post,
” Peter said. “That’s where the
Times
got the story.”

“Oh, yeah, I see that now.”

“When the play closes, Ben and I want to come down there and hear about this firsthand.”