Death of Secrets (7 page)

"Exactly why we need to leave now."

"No, don't you see? He's got a head start on us, he's
probably waiting in the lobby for us to come back. If we go back down the
elevator, he'll catch us."

"OK, so we pick a creative way out."

"No! Listen, this is our chance to take control of this
situation. He doesn't know we're here – for once we have the advantage over
them. Let's see if we can sneak up on him down the stairs, and find out what's
going on."

"Kathy, that's crazy! What are you planning to do, torture
him and make him talk? That ain't happening."

She shook her head. "No, listen: every time they've come
after us, they've done it as a group. I'm sure there's more than one of them
this time, too. So maybe they'll talk amongst themselves. Since they don't know
we're here, it's worth a shot. John, if we don't start learning some things,
we're never going to get out of this alive. We need to find a way to take the
upper hand."

John looked back and forth between their room and the girl he
had promised to look after. After a moment of thinking, he couldn’t avoid the
fact that she was right. One thing he remembered from football: never playing
anything but defense was a good way not to win. "OK, Kathy," he said.
"Just be careful."

Kathy replied, "Stick with me, we’ll both be
careful." They hurried off after their mysterious visitor. They paused for
a long moment outside the door, then carefully eased the door open and went
through.

Guessing the man had gone down, Kathy tiptoed in that direction
with John close at her heels. At each landing they paused to listen, hoping to
catch some advance warning if their quarry was right ahead of them.

Near the bottom, they began to hear it.

Kathy had been tiptoeing before. Now she placed every step with
microscopic precision as she tried to get close enough to hear. Her terrified
heartbeat sounded so loud in her ears, she worried she wouldn’t hear the people
when they found them.

She needn't have worried. Quietly, the voices drifted up from
the next landing below them.

"We know she’s in this hotel, that’s what the location
data on that last cell phone call showed. She can't have gone far, she doesn't
have a vehicle. They left that SUV in Leesburg, I checked. That means they only
have the one car they drove out in. She must have walked somewhere," said
one voice.

"I thought it was the roommate who has the flash drive.
Why do we even need her?" asked a second.

"Yes, but as I told you, we don't know where the roommate
is. We need her to lure the roommate to us, with the flash drive."

Kathy clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in
recognition. The first voice was the very same man who'd attacked them at
Michael's house.

The second spoke. "I think you're going about this all
wrong. They obviously don't know what they have yet. If they did, we'd
definitely be in far more trouble than we are now. So since they don't know
what it is, why not plant one on them? That way we can find out where the
roommate is and go get the flash drive from her, all without Miss Kelver and
her friends ever knowing. It certainly can't produce any worse results than the
methods so far have."

"Was that criticism?"

Kathy cringed at the menace in that voice. She'd been on the
receiving end of it all too recently.

"Carlos, look, we're rational men. We're in this together,
and we both want it solved. It's not a criticism of you, it's just an objective
observation. We haven't neutralized her so far, and this way might work. I say
we try it."

There followed a long silence. Every second it dragged on,
Kathy's feet itched to flee back up the stairs. But she had to learn more if
she could. Already she'd picked up some very valuable information, not least of
which was the name of the man who'd so violently tried to get the flash drive
from her.

Finally, the first voice – Carlos – spoke again. "You're
right, it might work. I'll go back to their rooms and see to it."

The slapping sound of his footfalls on the stairs came next.

Kathy looked at John, and John looked at Kathy. The two men
were at most a floor below them. There was no way they could run all the way
back up to their floor without making so much noise the whole hotel would hear
it.

The footsteps came closer.

Finally John just turned, threw open the door to whatever floor
they were on, and dashed out of the stairwell, tugging Kathy behind him. She
could still hear the man coming closer. John eased the door shut, wincing at
every extra second involved, but knowing that if he let it slam the noise would
give them away. The latch snicked into place, the door closed. Seconds later,
they heard the footsteps pass the door.

They continued on up the next flight of steps.

After two full minutes to let their hearts slow down, John
said, "OK, taking the initiative or not, that was just too close. We need
to get out of here, Kathy."

She nodded. "I'm ready to agree to that," she said.
"That was a bit too scary for me, too."

The problem remained, though, how to get out. This staircase
was obviously out, and they didn't trust the elevator either. Anything that led
to the main lobby was probably being watched.

"Maybe we can just wait them out?" Kathy suggested.

"Well, if we don't think of something, sooner or later
we'll end up doing that by default. I'd rather think of something if we
can."

A maid picked that moment to come down the hall pushing a big
laundry cart.

The two shared a look again, and Kathy walked up to the maid.
"Excuse me," she began.

The maid looked at her. Her thick accent made her hard to
understand, but Kathy thought she said, "Can I help you?"

"Could you…" Kathy stopped. She realized right after
she opened her mouth how crazy this would sound.

The pause grew long enough that the maid looked at her
curiously. Finally Kathy reached into the pocket of her jeans – which were
starting to feel grungy on the second day of wear – and came out with a wad of
bills representing part of her tips from the night before. She counted them and
found about $100 in total. She set the money on top of the pile of laundry.
"We need to ride down to the first floor and to a service exit in your
cart, under the laundry."

The maid looked at them, rolled her eyes, pocketed the money
and shrugged.

Three hundred fifty pounds worth of John and Kathy was a chore
for anyone to push, but the wheeled cart made it doable. A few minutes later,
Kathy and John were back on the streets of Georgetown, courtesy of the hotel's
service door.

They walked to the corner of Wisconsin and M streets, figuring
that since hiding wasn't working, maybe a crowd would offer some kind of
protection.

"So," John said. "Where to now? I guess I could
take you to my place, but I don't want it to get shot up like Mike's."

"Let's not do that yet," she replied. "Instead,
let's go down to Mike's office."

"Um… I've never just walked into a Congressman's office
before. Do you need a pass or something?"

"I don't think so, my school is riddled with political
science students who go down there for one reason or another. Let's try
it."

John scratched his head. "Mike's not gonna be real happy
about us wandering into his office. He seems to want to keep this whole thing
separated from his reputation."

Kathy thought about that for a minute. "OK, let's just
call him and tell him we're coming."

John nodded, and Kathy pulled out her phone. After a quick search
to locate the number of Mike's office, she called it only to learn he was in a
committee meeting and not available.

Kathy turned to John and shrugged. "I guess we just go
down there, then."

John shuffled his feet nervously. "OK, but if he gets
pissed I'm blaming you."

A cab ride later the two arrived on Capitol Hill. It took a few
different directories and questions to security guards before they finally
figured out that they had to leave the actual capitol building to find the
right place, and go to something called the Longworth House Office Building.
Once there, they tried a few more security guards until they got to the right
room.

Her first impression upon entering the office was shock at the
size. Kathy had envisioned Mike working in a big, luxurious office. But this
reception area was not much larger than her dorm room. And it was separated
from the work area by nothing more than a cubicle divider. The walls were
crowded with various memorabilia of Mike's home state.

"I need to see Congressman Vincent, please," she told
the girl at the front desk.

"I'm sorry, the Congressman is in a committee meeting
right now, is there a message I can give him?"

"It's very important to see him in person, may we
wait?" Kathy punctuated her sentence by sitting down.

The receptionist looked only slightly older than Kathy. She
wore long blonde hair and a bit too much blush on her cheeks. Unlike Kathy,
though, she wore a dark gray business suit.

"I'm… not sure when he'll be back" the girl replied,
glancing around the front office for someone with more authority than her. She
was receptionist and scheduler to Congressman Vincent, and as such limiting
access was her job. But it was a difficult balancing act between keeping his
schedule reasonably intact on one hand, and keeping him available to
constituents on the other. Mike tended to come down on the availability side of
the scale when he could, but only because she and his chief of staff together
weeded out all the obnoxious visitors.

Before giving a flat out refusal, though, she liked to have
someone else backing her up, in case the visitor really did turn out to be
important. But the chief of staff was out at the moment, and there wasn't
anyone else she could ask.

"Um, couldn’t one of our legislative assistants help you
with something?"

Kathy shook her head. "It's very important and private for
the Congressman. We'll just wait."

To Kathy's surprise, it took only about fifteen minutes before
Michael walked through the door talking heatedly with another man, both of them
clad in business suits and single-color ties. The Congressman stopped abruptly
when he saw his visitors.

The man next to him stepped up to them as soon as he saw them.
"I'm Tom Cassini. Can we help you folks?" he asked, sticking out his
hand to shake.

John had already instinctively risen to shake his hand when
Mike cut in and said, "Don't worry about it, Tom. Let me talk to 'em. I'm
afraid we're going to have to postpone our argument for a while."

Tom shrugged. "Got it, boss," he said.

Mike waved toward a door at the back of the room, beckoning
Kathy and John to follow. As they passed the receptionist, he said, "No
calls or visitors until I come out and say so, OK?" She nodded, even
though he had already passed.

Once they were all three in the office and the door was firmly
closed and locked, Mike asked, "What's going on? Why aren't you guys at
the hotel?"

"Because
they
were there too," Kathy replied.
She proceeded to tell him about their afternoon adventures.

The Congressman sighed when she finished. "I’m starting to
wonder about calling the police."

"Might be a good idea," John said. "We
are
in pretty deep here. We do need help."

"Yeah, but there’s a whole lot of trouble that comes with
the cops," Mike groused.

That remark brought an awkward silence as John and Kathy looked
at their feet. Mike spoke first. "OK, we need at least
some
help,
but going to the cops gets me in trouble. I have an idea."

He picked up the phone and dialed, finally saying, "I need
to ask a big favor. Can you come over here? Yes, exactly."

Apparently receiving an affirmative answer, he put down the
phone and looked at his guests.

"OK, I called for help. You guys wait here until he gets
here; I'm going to try to use the time to get some actual work done." He
stood from behind the desk and walked out of the room.

Exactly thirty minutes later, Mike walked back into his office,
trailing the very definition of a nerd behind him. Kathy almost giggled.

"OK, folks," Michael said by way of introduction.
"This is Nathan Jacobs. He's a friend of mine, but he also has some
experience in this kind of thing. Well, close, anyway. I want you to tell him
the story starting from the beginning."

"Didn’t I already hear most of it from you at lunch,
Mike?"

The Congressman nodded. "Yeah, but I skimmed a bit, and
Kathy can give you all the details. And I think it’s time you heard them."

Jacobs nodded, and Kathy began her tale, going all the way back
to the dead man – Eric Harrison, apparently – who'd given her the flash drive.
It took her nearly an hour – with occasional interjections from John to correct
minor details – to get through the whole story. When she did he exhaled loudly.

"Wow, Mike," he said. "You weren’t kidding about
being in serious trouble."

The Congressman nodded. "Yeah, I noticed. What I want is
help dealing with it without getting my name on paper anywhere if we can avoid
it. I was thinking ahead and didn't put my name on those hotel rooms, but I
don't figure I can get lucky forever."

Jacobs replied, "Well, this is not something I get to
practice a lot in my department. But maybe I can give you the cliff notes.
Everyone get comfortable and I'll give you the short course in how to survive
in the field.

"First of all, judging by their success at following you
and finding out where you are, I'm going to assume we're dealing with a first
class operation here. This is no street gang, it's a well-funded organization
with people who are trained in paramilitary operations."

Jacobs leaned against the wall as he talked, burying his hands
deep in his pockets. "First thing is, a paper trail is your enemy. Every
time you use a credit card, give a hotel clerk your name, or show up in a
police report, you are creating a record of your location. Going by their past
successes, your enemies can read those records. So rule number one is no credit
cards and no real names given out. If a place requires you to show ID, don't go
there."

He took a tissue out of his pocket, wiped his nose, then went
on. "Rule number two is: you’re going to have to give up your phones for
as long as you need to hide."

When both Mike and Kathy started to protest at once, he said,
"I know, believe me. I know. But let me tell you about your phones.

"Right now, your phone company knows where you are, thanks
to the GPS in your phone. Because they know it, the government knows where you
are – or, to put it in more personal terms, my bosses and coworkers know where
you are. And the NSA is not the only agency with this capability. Everything
that’s happened to you sure looks like the work of a foreign intelligence
agency to me, and the safe bet is that they can do what we can do. You need to
assume the bad guys can track your phone."

Kathy said, "That's just creepy. I mean, me? The
government knows where I am? Why? I'm nobody. You read in the papers how
everyone's ticked off about the NSA, but I never thought about what it meant
before."

Jacobs shrugged. "Look, I'm not here to talk about
politics. I don't claim to have all the answers. I just want to help you two
out a bit."

He took a deep breath and said, "When we leave here, you
can all leave your phones in the Congressman’s office. I brought you a couple
pre-paid ones. They’ll get you through the next couple days, and they’re not
linked to you in any way.

"Next subject: don't be predictable. If you've ever gone
somewhere before, don't go there again until this is over. That includes class
for you Miss, and the office for you, Congressman."

"How do we get out of here tonight?" Mike asked.
"If they're as good as you say, for all I know they're waiting for me
outside."

"That is entirely possible. I think I can get you out
tonight. The NSA doesn’t do human intelligence, we don’t have field agents.
Even if we did, I’m not one. But I think I know enough to get you out of their
sight and give you a head start.

"The next rule is that crowds are your friends. The
behaviors you have described to me all point to bad guys who don't want any
more attention than they have to have, and that means they'll avoid making a
scene."

After a pause he added, "Now we need to address the
question of getting you out of here. Long term strategy, I'm not sure what
you're going to do. But in the short term, your plan should be to get off their
radarscope and hole up. Sound good?"

Mike and Kathy nodded together, and Mike asked, "Leaving
now?"

"Not yet, Mike. Go withdraw as much money as they'll let
you from an ATM in the building. You will need to survive on whatever cash you
have on hand. If you use your plastic again, assume it will let them track
you."

Kathy interjected. "Should I go with him and get a bit of
cash too? We'll probably need as much as we can get if we have to live without
plastic for a while."

Jacobs nodded.

When Kathy and Michael came back from the ATM, Nathan handed
them each a boring, old looking pre-paid phone. He said, "No internet, no
social media, and it’s a lot harder to track. Still, don’t use it unless you
have to.

"OK, Mike wants to try to keep this off the official radar
for a while. I’m not entirely comfortable with that, because whatever’s going
on here sure smells like a threat to National Security. Fighting those is what
they pay me for. I would prefer to put you all under 24 hour guard until we can
figure out what’s going on. But Mike’s a friend, and for him I’ll bend the rules.
Now we just need to find a hotel that's low-class enough that they won't
require you to show an ID when you check in. I'm afraid you'll probably have to
stay in a place where they rent by the hour."

"Um… excuse me," Kathy interrupted. When Nathan paused
to let her speak, she said, "I
am
a college student, after
all." She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. A little
fiddling and she pulled something out which she threw over to Jacobs. "My
fake ID. How else am I supposed to buy wine?"

Everyone laughed and Nathan said, "OK, that makes things
easier."

Jacobs led them out of Mike’s office. While his friend from the
NSA was in front of him, Mike just did what he did every time he left the
office. He picked up his briefcase, which included his laptop. Jacobs never
saw.

The procession attracted a few looks as they passed through the
still-busy halls of the Congressional office building, and Mike just held his
breath. Shouldn’t be any reason anyone would ask him about it – if anybody here
even recognized him. He was a freshman after all – not exactly the biggest fish
in the political pond.

Immediately when they reached the street, Nathan spotted a
possible threat leaning against the telephone pole. He was a bit too well dressed
to be idling on a street corner, and his blazer bulged a bit under his arm. He
led his charges away from the man.

A couple steps later he looked back at the threat. The man had
his hand up to his mouth – no doubt speaking into a radio.

"We have a tail," he whispered. "Eyes forward,
let's not all gawk at once."

Kathy held her breath and kept her eyes forward as per
instructions. She felt the now familiar pounding of her heart and the cold
beads of sweat on her brow.

When they reached the vehicle, though, Nathan didn't feel any
safer. He put John into the passenger seat beside him and the others into the
back seat. Whoever that man had been, he was no doubt calling for backup, and
that meant they'd have a car to tail them. Well, he’d see about that. He was
schooled in evasive driving, and he planned to put all that education to the
test tonight.

Once everyone was aboard he laid down a strip of rubber and
peeled away from the curb as quick as he could goose the engine. In quick
succession he took a left, a right and another right, turning at the first
three streets he came to. Then he doubled back up to the area of the Capitol
building and sped down Constitution Avenue for a bit before taking another
turn.

Despite her seat belt, Kathy was thrown into Mike with each
successive hard turn. When one particular turn threw her fast in to opposite
direction, landing with a thud against the door to her side, Kathy let slip a
small scream and her hand went involuntarily to Mike's.