by Lisa Shearin
Grandad didn’t complain about me turning his treasured car into a rolling restaurant, and actually ate half his sandwich before resuming his questioning. “What is Simmons doing to keep the sanctity of our home from being violated again?”
I grinned. “He left two guards that are at this very moment making the neighbors either feel safer or confirming that we’re as much trouble as they’ve always believed we were.”
“They have no sense of adventure.”
“Their loss,” I agreed.
Grandad saluted me with his Pellegrino.
“Simmons also left gifts.” I nodded toward the device nestled in the car’s console storage slot. “If someone slipped a tracker on us while I was in the airport, this little beauty will block its signals. We have one in our office and my apartment as well.”
Grandad nodded in approval. “Nice to know my investment in home security hasn’t been a complete waste.”
“Talk to me about the reason we’ve turned the house into an armed camp,” I said.
“Pardon?”
“The guy who pulled a Miss Eleanor in our backyard,” I clarified.
“An outlier.”
Now it was my turn to be confused. “Excuse—”
“It sounds better than freak or mutant, does it not?”
“Is that what we’re dealing with?”
“Talent at that level isn’t an impossibility, merely rare. Extremely rare. Miss Franklin spent most of her life locked away in her own home or institutionalized. Marcus and Anne’s clinic was a heaven on Earth for her. Asylums in the early part of the last century were barbaric storage facilities where humans were treated like animals, and what they called cures were little more than medically sanctioned torture. It’s no wonder Miss Franklin came into your parents’ care a shell of a human being who would strike out at the slightest provocation, and it’s a testament to their talent and compassion that her last years were probably the happiest and most peaceful she had ever experienced.”
Mom was an empath and Dad was a psychometric like me and Grandad, except Dad’s gift was with people rather than objects. My parents made an amazing team. What better way to treat those with mental illness than to be able to diagnose them with a touch, knowing precisely what their patients were feeling and the reasons behind those emotions. I could never do what they did. They were my heroes.
“The man in our office last night had nothing wrong or off about his mind,” I said. “He was the consummate professional.”
“Which makes him all the more dangerous. He controls his PK; it does not control him. Does Samuel have any idea of who he may be?”
“None. Though Rees does suspect that he’s connected to the intelligence community either officially or unofficially.”
“Not a surprise, really,” Grandad said. “Such an individual would go to extreme lengths to keep themselves hidden. That he used his PK last night indicates not sloppiness, but a need to escape with the least possibility of identification or capture. The most efficient means to an end.”
I slowed down for yet another traffic backup on the GW Parkway. “But he wanted me to find him.”
“I believe he wants something from you. When you sensed him in the Russell Building, he knew who and what you were. That and the care he took in our office says that not only does he know about you, he’s aware of the high level of your ability. He’s dangerous, and as far as I’m concerned, he has now extended that danger to you. We need to discover who he is and neutralize his threat to you.”
“Neutralize? Now you sound like the intelligence people we try to avoid.”
“To successfully engage a lion, one must not think like a gazelle.”
I smiled. “Okay, Mufasa, what’s our next move?”
“I will make a few discreet inquiries among those I know in the government’s psychic research community whom I trust not to broadcast my interest. And yes, there are a few. Regardless of whether those inquiries bear fruit or not, we will continue to investigate Julian and Alan’s deaths under our FBI cover. If our PK intruder does not find the answers he seeks elsewhere, I believe he will contact you.”
“Why doesn’t that fill me with the warm and fuzzies?”
“It shouldn’t. You know him now and will be able to recognize him when he crosses your path. I don’t suppose you would agree to Simmons assigning a guard to you for the duration?”
“You suppose right. I’ll be careful.”
Grandad sighed. “Why does that not fill me with the ‘warm and fuzzies’?”
When we got to the town house, Gerald met us at the door. Grandad had alerted him that he was returning early, so Gerald had caught the morning shuttle back from Boston.
While Gerald put the finishing touches on dinner, Grandad went upstairs to unpack, and at my insistence, take a nap. I told him there was no way I was letting him get his hands on Julian’s watch until he rested and ate.
My phone rang.
Samuel Rees.
“Anything new?” I asked, dispensing with a greeting.
“Yes, but not nearly enough. The autopsies are complete. Cause of death for both men is cardiac arrest, not heart attack. Their hearts were healthy for men of their ages and there were no blockages, and there were no burn marks or indications that any type of device had been used.”
“Any drugs or poisons?”
“Not in the first pass. Final toxicology reports will take more time. In addition to the air being tested for inhalants, the ductwork was searched for any canisters. All negative.” Rees paused. “The time of death for both men was nearly identical.”
“And Nate Baxter’s doppelgänger was in Julian’s office for less than a minute.”
“Doppelgänger. A ghostly double who haunts its living counterpart. An appropriate analogy.”
“And equally spooky since it’s looking like he killed two men. The big question is how. Does anyone have any ideas?”
“The ME hasn’t given up. We’ve also brought in two specialists from the CDC and an expert on exotic poisons. Some elements are undetectable in an autopsy.”
“Working all the angles.”
“Until we run out of angles to work.”
“What then?”
Silence.
“Yeah, I thought so.” I changed the subject. “I connected two more times with the watch. I picked up that there wasn’t any physical contact between Julian and his killer. If there had been, I would’ve sensed it, and I didn’t.”
“That would corroborate what the ME found, or didn’t find. No bruising or injuries from a struggle with an attacker.”
“I just picked up Grandad from the airport. He wants to have a go with Julian’s watch after dinner. I’ll let you know what he finds.”
“Good.”
“Did you turn up anything from Julian’s staff?”
“We’re still interviewing and following up on potential leads. The senator’s appointments as well as Alan Coe’s have been checked going back six months. There are five Davids on the list. Elaine Pierce doesn’t know of any man named David who was in her grandfather’s social or professional circles. Also, we can’t assume that the senator was the primary target. We’re looking into Coe’s background and personal associations as well.”
“What about Nate Baxter?” I asked.
“He’s being held temporarily, more in protective custody than anything.”
“You think he could be guilty?”
“I don’t believe so, but someone went to a lot of trouble to impersonate him. We checked his financials, and a hundred thousand dollars was deposited into his savings account late yesterday.”
I whistled. “That doesn’t look good.”
“Mr. Baxter was most astounded and dismayed.” I could hear the smile in Rees’s voice.
“I’ll bet he was. Though for what he’s being put through, he deserves to keep the money.”
“I think Mr. Baxter is very
fortunate to be alive, and we’re determined to keep him that way. By the way, we got a hit on the M Street traffic cams.”
“You got him?”
“Somewhat.”
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“He knew there were cameras, so he ran without lights and covered his license plate. We’ve identified the motorcycle as a BMW K1300S.”
“Nice bike.”
“We’re running down registrations in the area—or reports of stolen.”
“It was his. He loves that bike. I felt it.”
“Then it shouldn’t take long.”
“Did you get any good stills?”
“A few.”
“Could you send me the best one? I want to see him.”
CHAPTER 14
There was a surprise waiting for me in the dining room.
Grandad was already up and sitting at his usual spot at the head of the table, a glass of red wine at his elbow, reading the latest Washington Post.
A lot of people got their news on their phones or tablets, but in DC, there was still a thriving business in newsprint. Grandad subscribed to the print version of the Post and the Times—both the New York and UK versions.
“Anything about Julian?” I asked.
“On the front page, but beneath the fold. They probably had to pull a similar-sized story this morning to fit it in.”
“What are they calling it?”
“Heart attack. Most of what’s here is the obituary they had on file.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough to be famous,” I said. “Knowing your obit’s already written and whenever you screw up, they go back in your file and add a couple more sentences. By the way, Rees just called.” I recapped our brief conversation.
Grandad was looking straight ahead, brow furrowed in concentration. He slowly shook his head. “Has Rees spoken with Elaine? She must be devastated.”
“He has. She doesn’t know of anyone named David in Julian’s personal or professional circles. Have you been able to think of anyone who would want Julian dead?”
“Just all of the opposition. Julian was one of the most powerful senators on Capitol Hill. Openly, they’ll mourn the death of a true patriot and great American who was taken from us too soon. Behind closed doors? I imagine there will be more than a few celebratory toasts from the bottom-drawer bottle of Scotch. The maneuvering will have already begun to take advantage of the other side having suffered a loss to its ranks.”
“Washington’s vultures don’t have wings,” I said.
“No, they don’t. Julian was in the Senate for nearly forty years. He was a good, decent, and kind man. A straight shooter. Incorruptible.”
“And that’s probably what got him killed.”
Grandad nodded. “Directly or indirectly. Unfortunately, the list of those who tried to get Julian to push his principles to the side is long. I don’t believe any of his political rivals would have done it or paid to have it done. The manner of death only raises more questions.”
I sat in the chair next to Grandad’s, Julian’s watch in my gloved hand.
“I never asked how you got it,” he said.
“I didn’t. Rees did. He took advantage of a distraction and stole it right off Julian’s wrist.”
Grandad nearly choked on his wine. Though it was hard to tell how much was choking and how much was laughter.
“That Rees is a rascal,” he finally managed.
“And then some,” I agreed.
“Julian wouldn’t have minded.”
“That’s what Rees said.”
“If Julian had been drawing his last breath and knew that watch would help catch the bastard who’d killed him, he’d have sat up and given it to Rees himself.” He set his wineglass far enough away from him that he wouldn’t accidentally knock it over if the visions got too intense. He knew only too well how this could go.
“I’m ready,” he told me.
“At the dinner table?”
Also like Nero Wolfe, Grandad adamantly refused to do business at the breakfast, lunch, or dinner table. Brunch, he refused to acknowledge as a meal at all. Too nouveau.
“Julian was my best friend. For him, I’m willing to make an exception.”
I placed the watch on the table in front of him.
“After dinner, I’ll call Elaine and arrange for a visit tomorrow morning,” Grandad said. “That is, if it’s convenient for her. Julian knew about my abilities. It’s possible he told Elaine. I hope he did. If not, I intend to tell her and ask if we can have access to his home office. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
“You know her well enough to trust her?”
“Yes. I’ve known her since she was a little girl.”
I’d met Elaine during a Christmas party at Julian’s McLean, Virginia, home. The handshake had revealed that she was cut from the same cloth as her grandfather. Grandad knew her better, and I trusted his instincts about people without hesitation.
Grandad quickly picked up the watch and slid it over his hand and onto his wrist. It was a perfect fit.
Grandad leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, preparing himself to sense what his friend had experienced in his final moments. He could block images from an object until he was ready to receive them. He was teaching me how, but it still wasn’t easy for me.
His breathing remained steady, his chest slowly rising and falling. The only sign anything unusual was happening was behind his closed eyes. They were darting back and forth as in REM sleep as he “watched” Julian’s thoughts. Unfortunately, he wasn’t actually seeing anything; if he had been, he would’ve seen the man in the office with Julian and that would’ve solved all our problems.
Seconds later, he opened his eyes and removed the watch. I detected a mild tremor as he did so. He had just witnessed his best friend’s death and had been unable to do anything to prevent it.
Grandad gazed down at the watch for a few moments. As I had when I’d linked with the watch, he was processing what he had sensed and comparing it to the facts we knew so far.
“Julian was in full command of his faculties,” he said. “There were no drugs, nothing that disoriented him in any way. His mind was as I remembered.” He paused, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. Then he cleared his throat, all business. “I don’t believe he was in denial about having a heart attack. He knew very well that it was possible for a man of his age regardless of how healthy he was. He used to joke about it, saying that was how he wanted to go, quickly, at his desk, working—or better yet, on the Senate floor to the inconvenience of his opposition. Admittedly, there’s never a good time to die, but the denial I sensed that ‘it wasn’t possible’ doesn’t fit with what I knew about him. He meant something else.”
“I hadn’t considered that,” I said. “You knew him, I didn’t.” Grandad’s hands were flat on the table on either side of his friend’s watch. I put my hand over one of his with a quick rub and light squeeze. I didn’t want to disrupt, but at the same time, I needed to offer some comfort for what he was having to do.
“I also believe we can eliminate any individual or event in his personal life,” Grandad continued. “Julian compartmentalized like no one I’d ever met. With all that he’d done during his life, he had to. This had to do with his job. I’m almost certain.”
“Being a senator covers a lot of ground, and in his case, a lot of years.”
“The warning he received from whoever David is was recent and had been weighing heavily on his mind.”
“So, he may have talked to someone about it.”
Grandad sighed. “Or tried to, the day we left for Zurich.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I said. “Julian could have told you. He chose not to.”
Grandad waved a dismissive hand. He knew I was right, but that did nothing to lessen his pain and guilt. “Julian believed in keeping his own counsel, especially if it was of a sensitive natu
re involving his committee work. Also, he’d been out of the CIA for many years, but he still had contacts there.”
“Berta said he was on the Intelligence, Armed Services, and Finance committees. I knew he’d served in the Marines and was ex-CIA.”
“It was in his younger days, but neither organization believes in being an ‘ex.’ Once a Marine or a spook, always a Marine or a spook. Julian always said he left the CIA for politics because at least politicians had some morals.”
I snorted.
“Exactly. Much of his work on the Intelligence and Armed Services committees was classified, and he wouldn’t have been able to discuss it with anyone outside of the committee. Alan Coe would have been a goldmine of information. He’s been Julian’s senior aide for nearly ten years. Every phone call, email, meeting, appointment—Alan kept him on schedule. Julian told me that Alan was part gatekeeper, part attack dog. If anything pertaining to Julian’s committee work could be shared, he would have shared it with Alan.”
“And now Alan’s dead, too. I’d thought he simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he wasn’t collateral damage after all.”
CHAPTER 15
Julian Pierce’s house in McLean was walled and gated, much to the media’s disappointment.
Berta was driving an FBI SUV with blacked-out windows. Grandad and I were on the bench seat in the back, out of the line of sight. We’d known better than to drive the Mercedes. The last thing we needed was for an enterprising reporter to run the plates, and then we’d have a three-ring media circus of our very own outside the town house.
After Grandad had linked with Julian’s watch, I’d called Rees back and told him what Grandad had discovered, and about his idea to pay a condolence call on Elaine first thing in this morning. The plan was that if she didn’t already know about Grandad’s abilities, he would give her a demonstration and make a quick believer out of her. He was betting she was open-minded enough to accept it.
Rees approved and asked Berta to see us there and back unseen by the media. He’d tell the agents guarding the house to expect us. He said Elaine had already been interviewed, but between Grandad’s abilities and his being a good friend of her grandfather, he’d probably learn more than they had, which hadn’t been nearly enough.