Saving Faith By: David Baldacci

true. But I don’t know if they’re somehow working with the FBI. But

without that tape they’ve got no evidence of what we’ve done. What?

No, Buchanan was begging for us to leave him alone. We could go ahead

with the blackmail plan, just let him live. It was pitiful, actually.

When I first saw them, I thought they had come to kill me. That Adams

is dangerous. And they told me Constantinople killed two of our men.

Constantinople must be dead, so we need to get another spy at the FBI.

But whatever you do, you find them. And this time no mistakes. They

are dead. And after that, it’s time to execute the plan. I can’t wait

to see those pitiful faces on Capitol Hill when I hit them with

this.”

Thornhill clicked off and sat at his desk. It was funny, their coming

here that way. A desperate act. From desperate men. Did they really

think they could bluff a man such as himself? It was rather insulting.

But he had won in the end. The reality was that tomorrow or soon

thereafter they would be dead and he wouldn’t be.

He rose from behind the desk. He had been brave, cool under pressure.

Survival is always intoxicating, Thornhill thought as he turned out the

light.

CHAPTER 56

THE DIRK SEN SENATE OFFICE BUILDING WAS Bustling as usual on this crisp

morning. Robert Thornhill walked with special purpose down the long

hallway, swinging his briefcase cavalierly at his side. Last night had

been quite something, a success in many ways. The only downside was

that they had failed to find Buchanan and Adams.

The rest of the night had been simply marvelous. Mrs. Thornhill had

been impressed with his animalistic zeal. The woman had even gotten up

early and made him breakfast, dressed in a sheer, clingy black outfit.

That hadn’t happened in years–making his breakfast or the clingy

number.

The hearing room was at the far end of the hallway. Rusty Ward’s

little fiefdom, Thornhill thought derisively. He ruled with a Southern

fist, meaning velvet-gloved, yet with granite knuckles underneath. Ward

would lull you to sleep with his ridiculously syrupy drawl and when you

least expected it, he would pounce and shred you. His intense gaze and

oh-so-precise words could melt the unsuspecting foe right in his

uncomfortable, government-issue hot seat.

Everything about Rusty Ward painfully assaulted Thornhill’s old-school,

Ivy-League sensibilities. But this morning he was ready. He would

talk death squads and red actions until the cows came home, to borrow

one of Ward’s favorite lines; and the senator would be left with no

more information at the end of the day than when he had started.

Before entering the hearing room, Thornhill took one energizing deep

breath. He envisioned the setting that he was about to confront: Ward

and company behind their little bench, the chairman pulling at his

suspenders, his fat face looking here and there as he rustled through

his briefing papers, missing nothing in the confines of his pathetic

kingdom. When Thornhill entered, Ward would look at him, smile, nod,

give him some little innocent greeting intended to disarm Thornhill’s

defenses, as if that were even a possibility. But I guess he has to go

through the motions. Teaching an old dog new tricks indeed. That was

another of Ward’s stupid little sayings. How dreary.

Thornhill pulled open the door and strode confidently down the aisle of

the hearing room. About halfway down, he realized that the room held

many more people than usual. The small space was literally bursting

with bodies. And as he looked around, he noted numerous faces he did

not recognize. As he approached the witness table, he received another

shock. There were already people sitting there, their backs to him.

He looked up at the committee. Ward stared back at him. There was no

smile, no mane greeting from the portly chairman.

“Mr. Thornhill, take a seat in the front row, will you? We have one

person testifying before you.”

Thornhill looked dazed. “Excuse me?”

“Just sit down, Mr. Thornhill,” Ward said again.

Thornhill looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I have limited time today,

Mr. Chairman. And I wasn’t told about anyone else testifying.”

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