TOTAL CONTROL By: David Baldacci

got to be a friggin’ zombie not to get a little nervous when that happens.

So on the same day she hops on a plane to meet her husband?”

“It’s possible she didn’t know she was being followed.”

Sawyer shook his head. “Uh-uh. This lady is sharp, like ginzu-knife

sharp. I thought I had her dead to rights on a phone call she got the

morning of her husband’s memorial service and she sidesteps it with a

perfectly plausible explanation that she probably thought up right then

and there. She did the same thing when I accused her of ditching my

cover guys. She knew she had a tail on her. And she still went.”

“Maybe Jason Archer didn’t know you were watching.”

“If the guy did pull off all this shit, you don’t think he’s smart

enough to realize the cops might be watching his wife? Come on.”

“But she did go to New Orleans, Lee. You can’t get around that fact.”

“I’m not trying to. I think her husband did contact her and told her to

hightail it down there despite our presence.”

“Why in the hell would he do that?”

Sawyer fiddled with his napkin and didn’t respond. Then their meals

arrived.

“Looks good.” Sawyer eyed his meticulously arranged meal.

“It is. It’ll kick your cholesterol to an all-time new high, but you’ll

die a happy man.”

Hardy reached across and tapped Sawyer’s plate with his knife.

“You haven’t answered my question: Why would Jason Archer have done

that?”

Sawyer slid a forkful of food into his mouth. “You weren’t kidding

about this stuff, Frank. And to think I was going to Chef Boyardee-it

when you called and asked me to dinner.”

“Dammit, come on, Lee.”

Sawyer put down his fork. “When Sidney Archer went to New Orleans, we

pulled all our guys because we had a number of routes to cover. She

still almost gave us the slip. In fact, except for me getting

incredibly lucky at the airport, we wouldn’t have known where the hell

she went. And now I think I know the reason she did go: as a

diversion.”

Hardy looked incredulous. “What the hell do you mean? A diversion from

what?”

“When I said we pulled all our guys, I meant we pulled all our guys,

Frank. There wasn’t anybody watching the Archers’ house while we were

gone.”

Hardy sucked in his breath and collapsed back in his seat. “Shit!”

Sawyer eyed him wearily. “I know. A big-time screw-up on my part, but

it’s too late to bitch and moan about it now.”

“So you think–”

“I think somebody paid that house a call while the missus was cooling

her high heels in the Big Easy.”

“Wait a minute, you don’t think it was…”

“Let’s put it this way: Jason Archer would be on my top-five list.”

“What could he have wanted?”

“I don’t know. Ray and I searched the place and didn’t find anything.”

“You think the wife is in on it?”

Sawyer took another bite of food before answering. “If you had asked me

that question a week ago, I probably would have said yes.

Now? Now I think she has no idea what’s going on.”

Hardy sat back. “You really believe that?”

“The newspaper shredded her. She’s in deep shit with her law firm. Her

husband never showed up and she comes home empty-handed.

What did she gain except an even bigger headache?”

Hardy started to eat again but continued to look thoughtful.

Sawyer shook his head. “Christ, this case is like a jelly doughnut.

Every time you take a bite, sticky shit squirts all over you.” Sawyer

stuffed a mound of food in his mouth.

Hardy laughed and looked around the dining room. His eyes suddenly

focused on something. “I thought he was out of town.”

Sawyer followed his gaze. “Who?”

“Quentin Rowe.” He discreetly pointed. “Over there.”

Rowe was halfway across the dining room, ensconced at a booth in a

secluded corner. Soft candlelight gave the table an intimate feel in

the expanse of the crowded restaurant. He wore a costly silk blazer,

collarless shirt buttoned to the top and a pair of matching silk

trousers. His ponytail flopped across the back of his neck as he

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