country. More than a handful, several of them serial killers, had been
executed.
If Hardy thought he had something on the plane bombing, then he did.
Sawyer sped up and within ten minutes pulled his car into a vast parking
lot. The fourteen-story building in Tysons Corner housed a number of
businesses, none of them involved in anything nearly as exciting as
Hardy’s concern.
Sawyer was cleared through security after showing his FBI credentials
and rode the elevator up to the fourteenth floor. Stepping out of the
elevator, he found himself in the modern-looking reception area. Soft
cove lighting illuminated the otherwise darkened expanse of the area.
Behind the receptionist’s desk were six-inch-high white letters
proclaiming the name of the establishment: slCURTECH.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sidney Archer watched the methodical rise and fall of the small chest.
Her parents were sleeping soundly in the guest bedroom down the hall
while Sidney sat in the rocking chair in Amy’s room.
Finally Sidney rose and went to the window to look out. She had never
been much of a night person. Hectic days had demanded that when the
time came to sleep, she slept. Now the darkness seemed powerfully
soothing to her, like a gentle cascade of warm water. It made recent
events seem less real, less terrifying than she knew them actually to
be. When the daylight came, though, the calming quiet of the night
would leave her again. Tomorrow also would bring the memorial service
for Jason. People would be coming to the house to pay their respects,
to reflect on what a good life her husband had led.
Sidney wasn’t sure if she would be up to it, but that was a worry that
she would allow to lie for a few more hours.
She kissed Amy on the cheek, quietly exited the room and moved down the
hallway to Jason’s small study. She reached above the door-jamb and
pulled down half a bobby pin, which she inserted in the lock on the
door. At two years old, Amy Archer could get into anything: mascara,
pantyhose, jewelry, Jason’s ties, shoes, wallets and purses. They had
once found the title to Jason’s Cougar crammed in the pancake mix along
with the house keys they had been frantically searching for. Once she
and Jason had awoken to find a full box of dental floss wrapped around
their four-poster bed. Turning doorknobs was a simple matter for the
youngest Archer, hence most doors in the place had a bobby pin or bent
paper clip riding above them.
Sidney went in and sat down in front of the desk. The computer screen
stared back at her, its flat face dark and silent. A part of her waited
for another e-mail to burst on the screen, hoping beyond hope, but it
did not happen. She looked around the small room.
Being wholly Jason’s, it seemed continually to draw her. She touched
certain favorite items of his as if they would, by osmosis, reveal to
her the secrets her husband had left behind. The phone ringing broke
her thoughts. It rang again and she quickly picked it up, not knowing
what to expect. For a moment Sidney did not recognize the voice.
“Paul?”
“I’m sorry for calling so late. I’ve been trying to reach you the last
few days. I left messages?
She hesitated. “I know, Paul, I’m sorry, there’s been so much–”
“Jesus, Sid, I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty. I was just
worried about you. Finding out about Jason like that, I don’t know how
you’re holding up. You’re stronger than I am.”
She smiled weakly. “I don’t feel so strong right now.”
Paul Brophy’s voice was earnest. “You’ve got a lot of people at Tyler,
Stone pulling for you. And one New York-based partner in particular who
is available twenty-four hours a day to help.”
“The support is touching, it really is.”
“I’m flying down for the memorial service tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to do that, Paul, you must be swamped.”
“Not really. I don’t know if you were aware, but I made a run at taking
the helm on the CyberCom deal.”
“Really?” Sidney did her best to keep her voice even.