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more than an accurate sketch.
Dipper looked at him quizzically, but Kurt wasn t going to say anything. He
wasn t going to tell her that a man in David Claiborne s position could access
the National Security Agency s comprehensive computer files for women who
looked like the one who had been with Collin. He wasn t going to tell Carol
Dipper that he d start with the ID badges of the operatives in the CIA and the
other intelligence agencies and work his way through the military and then to
the public in general and their driver s licenses if he had to. But if what
Claiborne had suggested were true, then most likely the woman would have some
connection with the government that would make her accessible to the president
and his people. And if she did, then Kurt would not only find her, he d find
her fast.
CHAPTER 6
Carol Dipper knew a competent police artist in D.C. But when Dipper contacted
her she said she had no intention of coming in to work on a Sunday evening to
do a sketch based on the recollections of two half-drunk young men. Kurt
overcame her reluctance when he told Dipper to offer the artist a thousand
dollars in cash to meet them at her precinct station. Two hours later, both of
Collin s friends were nodding with admiration at the composite the artist had
come up with.
With a computer disk of the sketch in hand, and Dipper s agreement not to
report their activities to Olander or the captain, Kurt said good-bye to his
son s friends and went to his Suburban, which was parked on a dark street
adjacent to the police station. It was a short walk, but the night had cooled
off with a breeze. Kurt took his blazer off the passenger seat and pulled it
on before hopping in and dialing David Claiborne s cell phone.
 Hello. Claiborne s voice was flat and hard like slate.
 David, it s me, Kurt said.
 Call me at two-o-two, five five five, seven eight two three, Claiborne said
and promptly hung up.
Kurt dialed the number.
 Kurt? Claiborne said after one ring.
 Yes.
 Are you calling me from a digital phone or an analog?
 Digital. Kurt knew as well as anyone that an analog phone could be overheard
by any ordinary person with an emergency scanner. Digital, however, was
relatively safe.
 Good. Do you need to talk?
 Yes, Kurt said.
Claiborne gave him directions to a seafood restaurant in Georgetown that
overlooked the river.  I ll be there in thirty minutes. Watch your back, he
said and hung up.
Kurt couldn t help feeling slightly annoyed at his old friend s mysterious
behavior. It had been so long since he himself had to think in terms of
security protocols. Even in the world of computer security, where industrial
spies and hackers weren t unknown, he d grown used to talking freely on the
telephone. And despite what he knew, he was having a hard time altering his
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behavior to match the magnitude of the situation. The notion that the chief
executive of the United States was embroiled in a conspiracy like this was
almost unthinkable. But when he considered the possibilities, he knew that
Claiborne s conduct was exactly correct. If the president and the people
around him had plotted the deaths of three Secret Service agents, then they
would be at the height of vigilance, especially when it came to Claiborne, the
only man left alive who could possibly put all the pieces together.
Kurt took one hand off the wheel and felt instinctively under his arm where an
agent s gun would be; for the first time in a long while he felt naked without
it. Maybe David could help him with that. If things got dicey, he didn t want
to be the only guy at the party without a weapon. The momentum of the entire
situation seemed to be carrying him along like a riptide. He was perfectly
willing to go with it, but he didn t want to flounder like a novice.
He knew how to play this game. He d played it well, in theory, anyway. The
truth was, for all the training of his body and mind and that was twenty years
ago his experiences with live fire had been limited to one incident when they
had run a counterfeiting ring to ground in Seattle. But the countless hours of
training had served him then, reinforcing his reactions so that they became
instinctual under fire. The question now was how much of those instincts had
remained with him. He hoped most of them, because something told him he was
going to need them.
It was after ten when Kurt walked through the large glass doors and into the
spacious dining room, where the few remaining patrons were mostly having their
dessert. Claiborne was already there, sitting at a lonesome table by one of
the many broad windows overlooking the water. A tired-looking young waitress
with white hair brought Claiborne a club soda with lemon and glanced nervously
between the two to see if they wanted to eat. The kitchen was about to close.
Kurt suddenly realized he was ravenous. He ordered a New York strip and a
glass of merlot.
 Steak in a seafood place, Claiborne said blandly.  You always were
different. It was his first allusion to their past fraternity, and it somehow
comforted Kurt.
 And you don t eat anything but  Kurt hesitated, remembering his old friend s
crude mantra with a constrained smile  anything but food after nine at night,
right?
Claiborne smirked and nodded. Kurt looked at his hand to see if he wore a
wedding band. In the last days before he d left Dallas, he remembered David
getting engaged to a blonde bombshell, a young finance major and cheerleader
from SMU. He searched his mind for her name but came up empty.
 Did you ever marry . . . he began.
 Sheila? Claiborne said.  Nope. She s still around, but I dodged that
bullet.
 Still around?
Claiborne grinned smugly.  Still engaged as a matter of fact.
 All this time? Kurt exclaimed, searching his friend s face to see if he was
teasing.
Claiborne nodded.  I kept putting it off. Then about ten years ago, we set a
date, invitations out, place booked, honeymoon, everything set. But the night
before I just figured, why? I had everything I wanted and the way I wanted
it.
 How did that go over with her?
 Not great, but she got over it. She gets over things . . . What about you?
You ever get married again?
 No, Kurt said solemnly.
 Why doesn t that surprise me? Claiborne said with a hint of what might have
been sarcasm.
Kurt said nothing, but smiled. The two of them then talked about the old days
in Dallas, the good things they remembered. After a while, their conversation
turned to the Service. At first, the discussion was amiable enough, but it
soon took a disastrous turn that left them face-to-face with Claiborne s
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disappointments and Kurt s unparalleled success.
Kurt couldn t help feeling uncomfortable again at the thought of how different
things could have been if only he d given his old friend the job that he asked
for. While Kurt didn t care about the clothes he wore or the car he drove for
that matter, he knew such things meant something to David. He surreptitiously
examined the Presidential Rolex on his old friend s wrist. By the way the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]