He set the vial on his desk pad, picked up the gun, and placed the barrel in his mouth.
* * *
During the long drive, Barrie tried to get news of Daily from the men who’d abducted her, but her screams, pleas, sobs, and threats didn’t budge them from their resolute silence. Gray was as much in the dark as she when they reached their destination, an office building in downtown D.C. They were hustled into the service elevator, then led to the office at the end of the hallway on the seventh floor.
Because Gray was giving them a fight every step of the way, they pushed him inside first. His blasphemous exclamation didn’t bode well for what awaited Barrie.
What she expected to see was Daily’s bruised, battered, and possibly bloody body. Instead, he was semireclining on a sofa, looking fatigued. She was so grateful to see him, she stumbled across the dimly lighted office and knelt beside the sofa, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Daily, are you all right?”
“I am now,” he gasped. “Seeing that you’re okay and didn’t get yourself shot.”
“They had Dolly in their car. I feared…”
“They brought me a fresh tank of oxygen, so, for the time being, I’ll live. Never mind me. Did you get Mrs. Merritt out?”
“We did. She’s in good hands now, although she looked very sick. We’re not sure whether she’ll survive.”
With the assistance of the agent who was removing her handcuffs, Barrie came to her feet and turned to face their host. Angrily she thrust her wrists out in front of her to show him the red rings around them. “Was the rough stuff necessary, Bill?”
Attorney General William Yancey looked abashed. “Hello, Barrie. Mr. Bondurant.”
Gray looked incredulous. “You two know each other?”
“Since college,” Yancey replied. “Barrie worked on the campus radio station as a reporter. I was president of the student political coalition. On slow days, she would come to me looking for a story.”
“I still do sometimes. He’s my source over at Justice.”
“He’s your source?”
“I don’t impart anything confidential,” Yancey explained. “Mostly I just confirm or deny information she’s received elsewhere. I keep her from going astray, which is sometimes tough to do,” he added, glowering at her.
“Bill, was this necessary?” Barrie repeated.
“We had to make a formal arrest. You and Bondurant are wanted for kidnapping.” He glanced at Daily. “Mr. Welsh has confessed that he was an accomplice.”
“Daily was instrumental, but it wasn’t a kidnapping. We rescued Vanessa Merritt.”
“From what, from whom?”
“From her husband.”
Yancey looked gravely at Barrie, then at Gray. “I was afraid you’d say that.”
“You don’t seem terribly surprised,” she remarked.
“I’ve been getting some very strange phone calls lately. From Armbruster. From Merritt. It seems Mr. Bondurant’s reappearance in Washington has made everybody nervous. First I was urged to apprehend him, then I was urged not to. Turns out, Bondurant has been keeping company with, guess who, you. By the way,” he added dryly, “you gave my men quite an earful at Howie Fripp’s funeral. Imagine them recounting for me the one about the freeway blow job.”
“The what?” Gray asked.
“Long story,” Barrie mumbled. To Yancey she said, “I laid it on pretty thick because I wasn’t sure they were good guys.”
“They were FBI agents.”
“I know, but I thought they might be…” She looked at Gray with consternation, wondering how much she should reveal.
From his position on the sofa, Daily relieved her
of the decision. “She thought they were working for Spencer Martin.”