"Jacob." Clarence’s voice pulled him back to the present. "Can I count on you to be objective?"
"Yes, sir." There was no hesitancy about his reply.
Clarence drummed his fingers on the manila folder. Silently, he watched the two men before him. For a long moment he appeared to mull over a decision while he continued tapping the folder. The circular seal, ragged on the ends, reminded Jacob of blood. It matched the words, Top Secret, spread across the jacket like a warning sign.
"All right, Jacob, Chase.” He acknowledged them. “Kidnapping is within the FBI’s jurisdiction. I’ll table the rest for now, but this is something I’ll have to include in my morning report."
Jacob’s body let out the breath he was holding. "Thank you, Clarence." He understood what Clarence was doing. He was offering Jacob his protection. Jacob rose, going back to the private elevator, but before pushing the button, he turned. Clarence stood behind his desk facing him. Chase was also standing.
"Before I go, I’d like you to know why I’m doing this. Robyn Richards made the highest sacrifice for her country short of dying. She gave up her right to be a human being. Because of her courage and forcefulness, ten men are happily home, living productive lives while she was shot-gunned into hiding. Not one of those men knew of her sacrifice. Not even the man she loved enough to leave. I only hope there’ll be someone in my life who loves me as much as Robyn loves her husband. But even if it hadn’t been for that, she uncovered a network which allowed us to crack one of the largest assassination rings ever organized. For that alone, she deserves the protection of the taxpayers for as long as necessary, even if necessary means the rest of her life." Jacob hesitated a moment, then turned and opened the elevator.
Clarence watched the doors close. “I’m sure we’ll speak later on this,” he said to Dalrymple.
“I’m sure we will. But for tonight, there’s one more part that needs to be played.”
Clarence was only half listening. He remembered the call that came earlier tonight. He’d listened in horror as the details of Jacob’s activities were described. He thought of retiring. In three years I’ll be sixty-two. Someone else could take over this job. He didn’t need the stress. He could stay home with his wife. They could go on a cruise. She’d wanted a vacation for years. But Jacob’s comments had changed his mind. He had been right. Robyn Richards had sacrificed a lot, and she deserved better than the lot she’d been dealt.
But there was nothing he could do about that now. A major drug kingpin had been put out of commission and an assassin-for-hire ring had been taken off the streets. In a small way she could have protected him. He had children and grandchildren. Would Gianelli’s poison somehow have made it to one of his own without Richards’ involvement? He’d never know. As the other parents she’d saved would never know.
Still, Clarence wasn’t sure he could trust Jacob now. He’d admitted he was in love with the woman. And Jacob wasn’t a man who loved lightly. Since Cynthia, he hadn’t been involved seriously with anyone. Jacob had said he could be objective, but no man in love was capable of that.
“What else is there, Chase?”
Chase retrieved his cell phone and punched in a number. "Get me Marianne Reynolds," he said into the quiet air.
Chapter 20
The sun was crawling up the sky when Jacob returned. The golden light rising behind the J. Edgar Hoover Building and spreading across the Ellipse, headed for Georgetown and the glass and steel buildings of Crystal City, Virginia. Robyn looked up as he opened the door. His face told her nothing. No indication that he’d spoken with the director of either the FBI or the U.S. Marshal’s Service was revealed. She was sure Clarence wasn’t alone in that office or that Jacob returned completely unscathed.
"If I ask, will you tell me?" she asked, as he resumed his seat in front of the computer screen.
"No," his voice sounding final.
"What’s going to happen to you?"
"I don’t know." His fingers went to work reestablishing contact with the central computer.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing that will help you find what McAdams intends for Kari."
"Jacob!"
"Drop it, Brooke. He didn’t throw us out. So, for the time being, we’ve got the use of this room and the files. Let’s try to get as much information as we can."
Before we get arrested, she thought. Robyn went back to her screen. She pounded on the keyboard. Jacob was the most closed-mouthed man she’d ever met. He could be so stubborn at times. His whole career could rest on this night, and he didn’t want to discuss it. Didn’t he think she cared what happened to him? Wasn’t he aware of how much she appreciated all he’d done for her?
"Jacob?" Robyn got up and went to the desk where he sat. "I care, Jacob. I hope you know that."
"I know it, Brooke." He looked at her with one of the few unguarded stares she’d ever seen. His eyes were luminous and open. She could see his fears and wants in the tender expression that held hers. "It will be all right." He took her hand and squeezed it. "It will be all right."
Robyn leaned forward and kissed Jacob’s cheek. "You’re one of the truly remarkable men I’ve ever known," she whispered. "I want Kari back more than anything in the world, but I don’t want your career as her ransom."
"It won’t be," he said quietly.
Robyn searched his face for any sign of insincerity. She found none.
"Let’s find Kari," he said.
She heard the catch in his voice. A swelling rose in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to remove it. Without another word, she went back to her machine. Grant touched her hand as she passed. He glanced at Jacob. The near imperceptible nod that passed between them acknowledged Jacob’s help.
Soon, Robyn was back into the files. She scanned Alex Jordan’s information. From the looks of him, she’d have more easily pictured him sitting behind the desk of a large corporation, not engineering the unsolvable crime.
She didn’t know how long she worked, but when her head came up again, it was very bright in the room. The clock showed almost noon. Robyn got up from the color screen and stretched. With hands on her lower back, she walked around the machinery. Where was the clue? It had to be here. Yet, the sun was now shining high in the sky, and they were no closer to a solution than they had been eighteen hours earlier.
What had she missed? Would Will really kill Kari? She pulled the slats of the window blinds apart and looked down on the Pennsylvania Avenue traffic which spanned the wide thoroughfare oblivious to the people in the room above them. People who were tired of pouring over computer files and paper envelopes. Jacob’s tie had long ago gone, and Grant’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Robyn’s sweater had been discarded, and she’d combed her fingers through her hair so often all curl had long ago become limp tendrils of straight hair.
Grant came up behind her. "Tired?" he asked, massaging her shoulders.
"Extremely." Her head fell forward as his fingers took some of the strain out of her shoulders. "There’s got to be something here, but I can’t seem to find it. My brain feels like mush."
"Why don’t you take a few minutes to sleep? We’ll keep digging," he suggested.
"I can’t. If there’s anything here, I’d be the one to recognize it. I’ve spent more time with Will than any of you." She went back to the boxes on the floor. Sitting down, she picked up a set of photographs. Leafing through them, she saw family photos of Will’s early life. He was pictured with his children. Four blond girls smiled at her. Another picture had Will and Alex. The child must have been twelve. Then, she found one with Will and a woman who must have been his wife. Robyn had never seen Will’s wife.
"Grant, what was Will’s wife’s name."
"Amanda." He joined her on the floor, glancing at the photograph. "She must have died shortly after that was taken."
"What did she die from?"
"She became interested in local politics. At a rally one evening, the
re was an assassination attempt. The candidate was missed, but several people near him were hit. Amanda was one of them. She held on for over a week. The bullet lodged in her chest close to her heart.She survived the surgery, but died ten days later."
"Oh, how awful." Robyn felt sorry for Will.
"Will was away when it happened. He was never quite the same without her. She was the one who got him interested in reading mysteries."
"He always has one in his pocket," Robyn smiled.
"Amanda used to write them."
“She did?”
He nodded. “All the time. She was always working on a book, but as far as I know she never sold anything.”
"Oh, my God! Grant, that’s it." The light bulb went on in her head. The switch was thrown and connection was made. "Did you ever read any of them?"
"Just one. Dinner Companions, the one that reminded me of the. . ." he stopped.
Jacob joined them. "Go on," Jacob prompted. His full attention was given to Robyn and Grant.
"Were they published? Can we find them anywhere?" Robyn asked.
"They weren’t published. But I saw them on the bookshelf in Will’s library," Grant explained.
"There are eight of them," Robyn said. "A Week of Knights, Cramped Quarters, A Case of the Nevers, Lost Moon. . ."
"Yes," Grant confirmed. "Alex used to sneak and read them when she wasn’t home."
"Do you know any of the plots?" she asked. Jacob got up and joined them. So far he couldn’t be following her logic.
"A Week of Knights was about the death of seven men by a character dressed in knight’s armor. It takes place in modern-day New York."
"The Stanfield killings," Jacob said. Robyn looked at him. "It’s a series of seven killings attributed to Alex Jordan. Go on, Grant."
"Cramped Quarters takes place on a train. A nurse is killed on her way to visit her parents, who are involved in selling U.S. secrets to the highest bidder."
"Genia Novak." Robyn remembered from her research before the Jordan trial. "Genia Novak was a double agent selling secrets. Her death on a train was too spectacular to have any name connected with it except Alex Jordan’s."
"I don’t know any others," Grant said.
"Jacob, what he’s going to do to Kari is in one of those books. We have to go back," Robyn said.
Jacob picked up the phone and let the helicopter know they were ready. Grant did the same regarding the plane. With the same efficiency which got her to Washington, she found herself on her way back to Buffalo, New York. Now that she knew what she was looking for, her adrenaline was once again pumping. She couldn’t sit still on the plane, and when they finally landed, Jacob ushered them into the helicopter which deposited her back in her yard before taking off again.
"Marianne, has he called?" Jacob asked coming into the kitchen.
"No, it’s been quiet all night. Did you find anything?"
"Yes, we know he’s using the plots to his wife’s books."
"What!"
"How are we going to get in there to get the books," Grant asked.
"With all the laws I’ve broken in the last twenty-four hours, breaking and entering should be a snap." Jacob said.
"That won’t be necessary," Robyn told him. "I have a key." She went to her purse and pulled her ring out. "Will gave it to me."
Jacob took it. "Stay here," he ordered. Robyn was too tired to argue. The two men went through the back door. Marianne took her arm and led her to the sofa in the other room. She left her a moment and returned with a cup of tea.
Robyn took two sips and put it down. "You need some sleep," Marianne told her. "You look like you’ve been up for a week."
"Not yet, Marianne. I’ve got to find out what’s in those books. And where Kari is."
"How are books going to do that?"
"His wife was a mystery writer. The Network used her plots for their kills. Jacob recognized three of them."
"You think he’ll try that with Kari?"
"I’m not sure. Grant says he won’t be able to do it. But he’s killed so many other people. . .I just don’t know." The night’s strain was taking its toll.
Robyn began to cry. "Oh, Marianne. He has my baby. He’s going to kill my baby."
Marianne took hold of her. She rocked her back and forth, pushing her hair back. "Don’t worry, Brooke. Jacob won’t let that happen. He’ll find out what Will’s planning to do, and he’ll stop him. Kari will be all right."
She continued rocking Robyn as if she were a child and not a thirty-year-old woman. This was how Grant and Jacob found them. Marianne signaled for them to be quiet. "She’ll be fine. She just needs to rest," Marianne whispered over Robyn’s head.
"Brooke," Jacob squatted in front of her. "I want you to go to bed."
"No!" Robyn’s head came up. "I have to read the books."
"You’ll be no good if you don’t get some rest."
"No!"
"I insist—"
"Jacob," Grant stopped him. "Let her read them. It will take her less time. Then, she can go to bed."
Robyn looked at Grant. She didn’t say anything. It wasn’t necessary. He knew her, all her secrets. There was nothing they didn’t share, and she silently thanked him for his understanding.
Confusion showed on Marianne and Jacob’s faces. "Brooke has a photographic memory. She can read the books in minutes and tell us the plot."
The silence in the kitchen grew louder after Grant’s comment. Robyn could almost hear accusation, in-credulousness, disbelief, and astonishment directed toward her. This was her secret. Few people knew of it.
Since she left the Assassination Bureau, she’d had no real need to purposely use it.
"Don’t look at me like that," she demanded. "I haven’t changed. I’m still the same person you knew two minutes ago."
"That’s why you wanted your old job back," Jacob said. "You went through those files so fast, and you remembered everything you saw. It explains so much; how you could put the Crime Network together and conclude what their movements were going to be. Why didn’t anyone know?"
"I didn’t tell them. I learned early how people treat you when they find out you’re different," she paused. "Now, let me read the books."
Grant set the leather-bound books he’d brought back on the table in front of her. "Take your time," he told her, dropping into the space beside her.
Robyn opened the first book. Will must have had them bound. They were type written and the letter ‘e’ didn’t close properly. These had been done on a typewriter and reduced to fit a hardcover size book. She read, turning the pages more rapidly than any of the other three people in the room could read. She ignored the loud silence and the anticipation of the people around her. Finishing, she quickly outlined the plot, and Jacob confirmed the case adjunct to it. Robyn repeated the procedure five times. Jacob accounted for all but one of the plots.
The book’s title was Trolley Ride to Murder. The plot had a passenger of a trolley killed and the police baffled by his connection to the prime minister of Great Britain.
"What could that have to do with being here in Buffalo? The only trolley we have is the one downtown, and it only runs through the shopping district on Main Street. Anywhere else the tracks have been taken up or paved over." Robyn looked from face to face, each one as blank as the other. "As for a public figure, Kari doesn’t know any and neither do I."
"What about five years ago when you first came here?" Marianne asked. "Did you have any associations before you went into the program?"
"No-no," Robyn bowed her head, holding it in her hands as she shook. "I can’t think of a single. . ." She stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes darting to Marianne.
"What is it?" Grant asked. "Have you thought of someone?"
Robyn stood up. She walked to the fireplace. The photo of Cameron Johnson stood steadfast and unchanged in its place. But all was not well. Her mind was tired and fuzzy, but she had heard correctly. Robyn was used to bein
g careful of her words, even when she was upset. And she didn’t think she could get any more upset than she was now. But Marianne had mentioned the program.
"How did you know that?" Robyn asked. Her eyes bore into Marianne as if she could look into her mind.
"Know what?" Marianne’s face screwed into a perplexed look.
"I never said anything about a program, and it wasn’t mentioned before we left or since we returned. Yet, you know I’m part of one. How?"
Marianne looked from Robyn to Jacob.
Robyn closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Her shoulders dropped in a gesture of defeat. "Oh, no," she cried, turning her back on the room. She hung her hands on the mantel, gathering her anger, fighting for control.
Turning back she faced Jacob, her body in tense control. "She works for you." It was a statement. "You’ve had her spying on me for five years." Then, she swung her gaze back to Marianne. "It’s him, isn’t it? He’s the secret admirer I thought you sneaked away to see every month? When all the time you were going to give him a report on me—who I was seeing, what I was doing." Robyn was angry with the two people who’d affected her life more than anyone else in the past five years. "I wondered how you knew so much about what was happening to me." She threw her attention back to Jacob. "How you could seemingly materialize from thin air, when it was Marianne, giving you clues to my movements."
Grant watched the exchange without a word. He hadn’t noticed the words Marianne had said. Jacob had told him about Robyn, and he assumed, sometime in the past five years, Robyn had confided in her friend.
"Brooke—" Jacob began.
"Jacob!" Marianne interrupted, the note of command in her voice was stronger than Robyn had ever heard it. "I want to explain this to Brooke." She raised her hand to her forehead. "Please, leave us alone."
The room cleared quickly. Robyn paced the sequestered space, her arms folded in front of her. "I know you’re upset, Brooke."
"Upset!" Robyn exploded. "Why should I be upset? I find out my daughter’s been kidnapped by the man I considered my father, a man I trusted has betrayed me and my best friend. . .my best friend. . ." She couldn’t continue. Tears gathered in her throat. She forced them down, as she dropped down on a wingback chair. She was bone weary and craved sleep.
Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1) Page 29