“We won’t have to plant anything. There’ll be lots of questions.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Will sighed.

19

THE POST OFFICE DELIVERED the mail to the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary at mid-morning, and the magazines and newspapers were hand-trucked to the library. A prisoner sorted them and put them into the racks, displacing the old issues.

Ed Rawls, who had a very good job in the library, got to the Washington Post first, as he always did, and his attention was drawn to the interview with the Arlington arson inspector, about the Van Vandervelt killing.

As Rawls read the piece, something began to sound very familiar. His mind traveled back to a murder that he himself had committed more than twenty years before, in Beirut. He remembered the bomb that had been specially designed and built for the purpose, the flat one with the squat switch, meant to go under a car seat, and he remembered who had designed and built it.

Rawls found a sheet of paper and an envelope and wrote a letter. He addressed it to a very special box number in the White House zip code and wrote personal and confidential on the envelope, though he had no idea if that would do any good.

He had not been this excited for a very long time.

The letter took two days to reach its destination, then it was X-rayed and sniffed by a machine designed to detect explosives. When the envelope was deemed to be safe it was routed to the first lady’s office, where two secretaries opened every piece of mail and read it before deciding what the first lady should see. The secretary who received the envelope balked at opening it when she saw the personal and confidential note scrawled across the front. She handed the envelope to her older colleague.

“Should I open this? And what’s that box number for the return address? It sounds familiar.”

“The box number is the prisoners’ return address for the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary,” the older woman said. She held the envelope up to the light. “Seems to be just a piece of paper, and it’s already been through security.”

“Should I open it?” the younger woman persisted.

“It would probably be all right, but I’m not sure I would want to have opened it, if it turned out to be something really personal. Just put it in with the others and let the first lady deal with it.”

“All right.” The younger woman placed the envelope on a stack of other letters addressed to the box number and forgot about it.

KATE GOT HOME from Langley at a quarter to seven, and Will, who was already in his slippers in the family quarters, fixed her a drink and handed it to her. She accepted it, took a sip, and walked to the desk where her personal mail was placed every day. Riffling through the stack, the letter from Atlanta caught her eye; it was the first one she’d had for several months. She restacked the mail, leaving the envelope in the batch, and sat down next to her husband. “So, how was your day?”

“Pretty routine, except Kitty thinks the right-wingers are going to start blaming me for these murders.”

“I didn’t know you were that good a shot, or had the bomb-making skills,” Kate said.

“You’re probably a better candidate than I am,” Will said. “You’re certainly a better shot, and you have all that technical advice at the agency.”

“You have a point, and I’m motivated, too. You know how I feel about those people. Who would you like me to take out next?”

Will thought about that. “How about Dr. Don Beverly Calhoun, in Atlanta,” Will said. “He’s featured prominently on the ACT NOW website. That son of a bitch has been annoying me since I ran against him for the Senate, and he’s getting better at it.”

“Will do,” Kate said.

“And make it as painful as possible, please.”

“Certainly.”

“I hope to God nobody is bugging the family quarters,” he said, and they both laughed.

The phone rang and Will picked it up.

It sounded like a long call, so Kate picked up her mail and went into her little study. She ripped open the letter from Atlanta and read it.

I believe I might be of use to you in figuring out who’s doing those murders of right-wingers. I might even be able to name the killer, if the reward is attractive enough. You know I don’t want money, but I do pine for the piney woods of Maine. Let me know if you’d like my help.

Hope you are both well and happy.

Kate read the letter again then ran it through the shredder beside her desk. She didn’t like hearing from Ed, and she wasn’t going to bite, either. She went back into the living room, where Will was winding up his phone conversation.

He hung up. “What’s for dinner?”

“You’re asking me?” She laughed heartily.

“How about I grill us some steaks?”

“If you can get the staff out of the kitchen. And can your cholesterol level take it?”

“Walter Reed says I’m in great shape,” Will replied. “And they won’t be testing my cholesterol for another three months.”

“Then what the hell,” she said. “Let’s have those steaks.”

20

KATE ARRIVED AT CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia, at 7:45 a.m. and was at her desk in the director’s office by eight. Her secretary buzzed.

“Mr. Broward, from personnel, is here to see you,” she said.

“Oh, yes, send him in.”

Broward looked younger and more athletic than a personnel officer was supposed to look, and he carried a large cardboard box as if it were lighter than it really was. “Good morning, Director,” he said.

“Just put them on the conference table in the next room,” Kate replied, “and we’ll go through them together.” She followed him into the conference room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He set the box down and took out a stack of file folders, some of them very thick. “There are eighteen printouts here, representing everyone who has left technical services during the past ten years, either retired, fired, or for any other reason. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

Kate pulled up a chair. “What’s your first name?”

“Harold.”

“It’s like this, Harold: We’re looking for someone with the technical skills and the motivation to have carried out the murders of Senator Wallace, Van Vandervelt, and Timothy Brennan. I’m sure you’ve read about them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’d like you to sit here and read these files and make notes on anything in any of them that might be relevant. Let me give you an example: Suppose you find in somebody’s file that a man was given a hard time in one of the committees Senator Wallace served on. That’s my idea of a motivation. Also, look for membership in any liberal-oriented groups-the American Civil Liberties Union, People for the American Way -any of those, plus subscriptions to publications like The Nation. Anything at all that would indicate a strong leaning to the left or an antipathy for the right. These files are going to go to the FBI, and I want to know what’s in them before they leave the building.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“When you’re done, buzz me, and we’ll talk about what you’ve found.” She closed the door and left him to his work.

KATE WAS CONCLUDING a meeting just before lunch when her phone buzzed. “Yes?”

“It’s Harold Broward, Director. I’ve finished.”

“I’ll be right with you, Harold.” She concluded her business, then went into the conference room. Broward stood as she entered, and she waved him back into his seat. There were two stacks of files next to him and one thick folder before him. “Have you got something, Harold?” she asked.

“Maybe so, ma’am. At least, this guy meets the specifications pretty well.”

“Tell me about him.”

Broward consulted his notes. “His name is Edward Eugene Coulter. He retired two years ago at age sixty-five. He was an assistant director of technical services, having served in that department for thirty-nine years in a variety of capacities, gradually being promoted. He has expertise in firearms, explosives, drugs, document work, and almost anything else you could ask tech services for. He was a member of the ACLU, but that was his only political affiliation. He didn’t subscribe to any publications, except The New Yorker and Washingtonian. He testified before the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence four years ago and was raked over the coals by Senator Wallace for his ACLU membership and for being associated with some documents that his department had prepared, which were later stolen and used in an operation against us in the Middle East.”