safe place.”
She snapped her fingers at him. “You can get things accomplished
just like that?”
“I can but try.” He tried to look modest, maybe even humble,
but he couldn’t pull it off. “What’s the name you used and what’s
the storage locker name?”
“P and F Storage in the Bronx, and the name is Connie Pearl.”
“I don’t think I want to know where you got that name.”
He watched her walk to the sink with the empty coffeepot and
rinse it out. When she turned to reach for the coffee, her head
slanted in a certain way. He blinked. He knew that certain set of
the head very well. He’d seen her father do that not six days before.
He watched her closely and saw that her movements were economical,
graceful. He liked the way she moved. She’d inherited that from her father, too, one of the smoothest, most elegant men
Adam had ever known. He clasped his hands behind his head,
closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Thomas Matlock clearly in
his mind’s eye, and thought back to that meeting between the two
of them on June 24.
Washington, D.C.
The Suffer Building
“She still believes you’re dead.”
He nodded. “Of course. Even when Allison knew she was dying,
we decided not to tell Becca about me, it was just too dangerous.”
At least, Adam thought, Thomas had been in close contact with
his wife since e-mail had come along. They were online every
night, until his wife had gone into the hospital. Adam said, “I don’t
agree with that, Thomas. You should have contacted her when her
mother fell into a coma. She needed you then, and the good Lord
knows, she needs you now.”
“You know it’s still too risky. I haven’t known where Krimakov
is since right after I shot his wife. I realized soon enough that I
would have to kill him to protect my family, but he simply disap
peared, with the help of the KGB, no doubt. No, I can’t take the
risk that Krimakov could find out about her. He would slit her
throat and laugh and then call me and laugh some more. No. I’ve
been dead to her for twenty-four years. It stays that way. Allison
agreed with me that until I know for certain that Krimakov is
dead, I stay dead to my daughter.” Thomas sighed deeply. “It was
very hard for both of us, I’ll be honest with you. I think if Allison
hadn’t slipped into that drugged coma, she might have told Becca,
so that she’d know she wasn’t really alone.”
The pain in his voice made Adam silent for a long time. Then he
said, all practical again, “You can’t stay dead to her now and you
know it. Or haven’t you been watching CNN?”
“That’s why you’re here. Stop frowning down at me. Pour yourself
a cup of coffee and sit down. I’ve done a lot of thinking. I’ve
got a favor to ask.”
Adam Carruthers poured himself some coffee so strong it could
bring down a rhino. He stretched out in the chair opposite the
huge mahogany desk. A computer, a printer, a fax, and a big leather
desk pad sat in their designated spots on top of the desk. No free
papers stacked anywhere, no slips or notes, just technology. He
knew that on this specific computer there were no deep, dark secrets,
just camouflage. Even he would have a hard time getting
through all the safeguards installed to protect any hidden files on
the machine, if there had been any, which there weren’t. Thomas
Matlock had stayed at the top of his game by being careful and
smart.
Adam said, “The governor of New York was shot in the neck
two nights ago. The man was lucky to be surrounded by doctors
and that he’d promised more big state bucks for heart research,
otherwise they might have let him bleed to death.”
“You’re cynical.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve known that for ten years, haven’t you?”
Adam took a drink of the high-test coffee and felt a jolt all the way
to his feet. “Everyone is after her now, particularly the Feebs. She’s