Forty-one
"No
one's accusing your father of anything," John said, tactfully putting as
much distance as he could between himself and Evelyn Haxx in Francis
Peugeot's living room. "Nobody's accusing you of responsibility.
I'm not taking any of this at face value. I just need more
information to work with. One thing generally leads to another and
the only place we have to start is with your father. Any pretext you
prefer is fine by me. It'll all be a matter of reading behavior and
body language and waiting for the possibility that someone will slip up
and reveal information of use to us. It may not be incriminating
evidence. It may clear your father entirely."
Evelyn Haxx mulled over the
logic of John's request. “My father usually spends a week at the ranch in the
fall. He likes to watch the trees change color. I haven’t
spoken to him in years. I didn’t think he knew anything about what I do.
Maybe someone did find out. I guess it would be best if I knew for sure one
way or another.”
“We can’t wait until fall,” John said
mildly.
Evelyn eyed him distrustfully.
"What are you supposed to be, a mind reader?"
John shook his head.
"Just experienced with men on edge. If they are, there are subtle
ways to rattle their cages. They open up of their own accord.
If they aren't, they mean us no harm. Regardless, once we've made our move, the party
responsible for the attempt on your life, if it exists within your
father's sphere of influence, will know that
we cannot be dealt with discretely. They would know by now what you
do for a living. If they were hoping to rid your father of the
damage you could do discretely, they won’t risk it knowing the media would
be able to make the connection between you. They may try to negotiate
instead. If we come up with absolutely nothing, then it's entirely
possible your father and his friends have nothing to do with our
situation."
Francis studied Evelyn’s subdued composure.
“Evelyn?”
Staring at her folded hands, Evelyn gave a slight
nod. “Yes, I understand what he's saying. I just don't want my
father to know what I do for a living if he doesn't already know."
"He may not know," John said.
"It's possible his campaign managers know and want at all costs to keep
that information from him. It's at least possible that we can stop
the attempts upon your life with a simple reunion with your father."
Craig Netherman had a question. “How do we handle security?”
“If we can," John said, "we go through it and
watch for an overreaction. We back away gracefully if we catch them
with their pants down, which should happen if nobody in the senator's
field of influence is involved."
“Have Evelyn make a call
from a public phone to arrange a meeting," John said to Francis. "Just a friendly reconciliation
attempt,
no talk of problems, unless he balks. Until you get an agreement to a
face to face meeting, imply trouble up to and including the life and death
variety, but without divulging any details. I don’t think you’ll have a
problem making the call itself, but we’ll plan for trouble regardless. Record
the call with a portable cassette, wear wigs and clothing you’d not
normally wear. After you make the call, watch for an hour from a safe
distance. If anyone suspicious arrives to snoop around, leave.
Be casual about it. Call if you have a problem you can’t handle, but
you’ll be safer alone and unrecognizable.”
Jennifer leaned against John
and closed her eyes. John put a protective arm around her. No
one sensed a problem between the two with one possible exception.
Francis Peugeot stared at the mismatched couple, quietly shredding a paper
napkin with nervous fingers.
