loud pop, and a fat wad of sap shot out and hit the screen. Buchanan
watched it dripping down the mesh face, its escape halted, its
existence over. Why did he suddenly feel the remainder of his life had
just been symbolically played out?
“Perhaps I should try to find her.”
“It’s really not your concern.”
Buchanan stared at him. Had the idiot really said that? “You won’t be
the one going to prison.”
“It’ll work out. You just continue right on.”
“I want to be kept informed. Clear?” Buchanan turned to the window.
In its reflection he studied the man’s reaction to his sharply spoken
words. But what were they really worth? Buchanan had clearly lost
this round; he had no way of winning it, actually.
The street was dark, no visible movement, just the familiar sounds of
squirrels corkscrewing up the trees and then leaping from branch to
branch in their never-ending game of survival. Buchanan was engaged in
a similar contest, but even more dangerous than hopping across the
slippery bark of thirty-foot-tall trees. The wind had picked up some;
the beginnings of a low howling sound could be heard in the chimney. A
bit of smoke from the fire drifted into the room with the back draft of
air.
The man looked at his watch. “We need to leave in fifteen minutes to
make your flight.” He picked up Buchanan’s briefcase, turned and
left.
Robert Thornhill had always been careful in how he contacted Buchanan.
No phone calls to the house or office. Face-to-face meetings only
under conditions such as these where it would not raise suspicions,
where surveillance by others could not be maintained. The first
meeting between the two had been one of the few times in Buchanan’s
life that he had felt inadequate in the face of an opponent. Thornhill
had calmly presented stark evidence of Buchanan’s illegal dealings with
members of Congress, high-ranking bureaucrats, even reaching inside the
White
House. Tapes of them going over voting schemes, strategies to defeat
legislation, frank discussions of what their fake duties would be once
they left office, how the payoffs would occur. The CIA man had
uncovered Buchanan’s web of slush funds and corporations designed to
funnel money to his public officials.
“You now work for me,” Thornhill had said bluntly. “And you will go
right on doing what you are doing until my net is as strong as steel.
And then you will stand clear, and I will take over.”
Buchanan had refused. “I’ll go to prison,” he had said. “I’ll take
that over indentured servitude.”
Thornhill, Buchanan recalled, had looked slightly impatient. “I’m
sorry if I wasn’t clear. Prison isn’t an option. You either work for
me or you cease to live.”
Buchanan had paled in the face of this threat, but still held firm. “A
public servant embroiled in murder?”
“I’m a special type of public servant. I work in extremes. It tends
to justify what I do.”
“My answer’s the same.”
“Do you also speak for Faith Lockhart? Or should I consult her
personally on the matter?”
That remark had struck Buchanan like a bullet to the brain. It was
quite clear to Buchanan that Robert Thornhill was no bully. There was
not a hint of bluster in the man. If he said something as innocuous
as, “I’m sorry it’s come to this,” you would probably be dead the next
day. Thornhill was a careful, deliberate, focused person, Buchanan had
thought at the time. Not unlike himself. Buchanan had gone along. To
save Faith.
Now Buchanan understood the relevance of Thornhill’s safeguards. The
FBI was watching him. Well, they had their work cut out for them, for
Buchanan doubted they were in Thornhill’s league when it came to
clandestine operations. But everyone had an Achilles’ heel. Thornhill
had easily found his in Faith Lockhart. Buchanan had long wondered
what Thornhill’s weakness was.
Buchanan slumped in a chair and studied the painting hanging on the
library wall. It was a portrait of a mother and child. It had hung in
a private museum for almost eighty years. It was by one of the
acknowledged-but lesser known-masters of the Renaissance period. The
mother was clearly the protector, the infant boy unable to defend