Dana stopped the car in front of the house. She looked at Kemal. “You’re coming in with me.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s cold out here. Come on.”
Dana went to the front door and Kemal reluctantly followed her.
Dana turned to him. “Kemal, I’m here to do a very important interview. I want you to be quiet and polite. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Dana rang the bell. The door was opened by a pleasant-faced giant of a man in the uniform of a butler. “Miss Evans?”
“Yes.”
“I am Cesar. Mr. Hudson is expecting you.” He looked at Kemal, then back at Dana. “May I have your coats?” A moment later he was hanging them up in the front hall guest closet. Kemal kept staring up at Cesar, who towered above him.
“How tall are you?”
Dana said, “Kemal! Don’t be rude.”
“Oh, it’s all right, Miss Evans. I’m quite used to it.”
“Are you bigger than Michael Jordan?” Kemal asked.
“I’m afraid so.” The butler smiled. “I’m seven feet one. Come this way, please.”
The entry was enormous, a long hall with a hard-wood floor, antique mirrors, and marble tables. Along the walls were shelves of precious Ming Dynasty figurines and Chihuly blown-glass statues.
Dana and Kemal followed Cesar down the long hallway to a step-down living room, with pale yellow walls and white woodwork. The room was furnished with comfortable sofas, Queen Anne end tables, and Sheraton wing chairs covered in pale yellow silk.
Senator Roger Hudson and his wife, Pamela, were seated at a backgammon table. They rose as Dana and Kemal were announced by Cesar.
Roger Hudson was a stern-looking man in his late fifties, with cold gray eyes and a wary smile. There was a cautious aloofness about him.
Pamela Hudson was a beauty, slightly younger than her husband. She seemed warm and open and down to earth. She had ash-blond hair and a trace of gray that she had not bothered to disguise.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Dana apologized. “I’m Dana Evans. This is my son, Kemal.”
“I’m Roger Hudson. This is my wife, Pamela.”
Dana had looked up Roger Hudson on the Internet. His father had owned a small steel company, Hudson Industries, and Roger Hudson had built it into a worldwide conglomerate. He was a billionaire, had been the Senate majority leader, and at one time had headed the Armed Services Committee. He had retired from business and was now a political adviser to the White House. Twenty-five years earlier he had married a society beauty, Pamela Donnelly. The two of them were prominent in Washington society and influential in politics.
Dana said, “Kemal, this is Mr. and Mrs. Hudson.” She looked at Roger. “I apologize for bringing him with me, but—”
“That’s perfectly all right,” Pamela Hudson said. “We know all about Kemal.”
Dana looked at her in surprise. “You do?”
“Yes. A great deal has been written about you, Miss Evans. You rescued Kemal from Sarajevo. It was a wonderful thing to do.”
Roger Hudson stood there, silent.
“What can we get you?” Pamela Hudson asked.
“Nothing for me, thank you,” Dana said.
They looked at Kemal. He shook his head.
“Sit down, please.” Roger Hudson and his wife took seats on the couch. Dana and Kemal sat in the two easy chairs across from them.
Roger Hudson said curtly, “I’m not sure why you’re here, Miss Evans. Matt Baker asked me to see you. What is it I can do for you?”
“I wanted to talk to you about Taylor Winthrop.”
Roger Hudson frowned. “What about him?”
“I understand that you knew him?”
“Yes. I met Taylor when he was our ambassador to Russia. At the time, I was head of the Armed Services Committee. I went to Russia to evaluate their weapon capabilities. Taylor spent two or three days with our committee.”
“What did you think of him, Mr. Hudson?”
There was a thoughtful pause. “To be quite candid, Miss Evans, I was not overly impressed by all that charm. But I must say, I thought the man was very capable.”
Kemal, bored, looked around, got up, and wandered into the next room.
“Do you know if Ambassador Winthrop got in any trouble when he was in Russia?”