But a dead man couldn’t talk either. Sawyer moved out of the room, his
walkie-talkie squeezed tightly in his hand. In the empty hallway he
noted that the air-conditioning had been turned on full blast. The
apartment’s temperature hovered around thirty degrees.
He quickly jotted down the precise temperature setting and then, using
the point of a pencil so as not to destroy any possible fingerprints, he
turned the heat back on. He wasn’t about to let his men freeze to death
while they investigated the crime scene. He slumped against the wall,
momentarily depressed. While he’d known the odds were long that they
would find the suspect at his apartment, the fact that they had found
him murdered clearly indicated that someone was a couple of steps ahead
of the FBI. Was there a leak somewhere, or had this murder been part of
some master plan?
He gripped the walkie-talkie and headed back to the bedroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sidney exited the Triton building and started across the parking lot.
She was so deep in thought she didn’t see the black stretch limousine
until it careened to a halt directly in front of her. The rear door
opened and Richard Lucas stepped out. He was dressed in a dark blue
conservative single-breasted suit. His face was chiefly distinguished
by a pug nose and a pair of small eyes that were too close together by
about an inch. His breadth of shoulders and the omnipresent hump under
his suit coat made him an imposing physical presence.
“Mr. Gamble would like to meet with you.” His tone was even.
He held the door open and Sidney could see the bolstered pistol under
his coat. She froze, swallowed hard and then her eyes blazed.
“I’m not sure that fits into my schedule right now.”
Lucas shrugged. “As you wish. However, Mr. Gamble thought it best to
speak directly with you. To get your version of the facts before he
decides upon any type of action. He felt the sooner the meeting took
place the better for all concerned.”
Sidney took a deep breath and looked at the limo’s black-tinted windows.
“Where is this meeting to take place?”
“Mr. Gamble’s estate in Middleburg.” He checked his watch.
“Our ETA is thirty-five minutes. We will, of course, take you back to
your car after the meeting is concluded.”
She eyed him sharply. “Do I really have a choice?”
“A person always has choices, Ms. Archer.”
Sidney pulled her coat tighter around her and climbed in. Lucas sat
across from her. She didn’t ask any more questions and he ventured
nothing further. His eyes, however, remained squarely upon her.
Sidney was dimly aware of an enormous house of stone surrounded by
meticulously landscaped and tree-lined grounds. You can make it through
this, she thought. Interrogation was often a two-way street. If Gamble
wanted answers from her, she would do her best to get some from him. She
followed Lucas through a double-door entryway, down an impressive
hallway and into a large chamber of polished mahogany and comfortable
seating. Original oil paintings portraying distinctly masculine
subjects covered the walls. A small fire burned in the hearth. On a
table situated in one corner a dinner with two settings was laid out.
Although she had no ‘appetite, the aroma was enticing nevertheless. In
the center of the table a bottle of wine was chilling. The door closed
behind her with a click. She went over and confirmed that it was indeed
locked. She whirled around as she heard a slight movement behind her.
Nathan Gamble, dressed casually in an open-collared shirt and cuffed
slacks, came around the corner of a high-wingback chair that had been
turned toward the far wall. His penetrating gaze made her draw her coat
more closely around her. He moved over to the food.
“You hungry?”
“Not really, thanks.”
“Well, if you change your mind, there’s plenty to eat. I hope you don’t
mind if I do.”
“It’s your house.”
Gamble sat down at the table and started fixing his plate. Then she
watched as he poured two glasses of wine. “When I bought this place it
came with a wine cellar and two thousand very dusty hot ties of wine.