Power Play (FBI Thriller 18)

Sherlock surveyed the empty guardhouse, the high stone fence, the intercom with the camera mounted beside it aimed at the driver. “Anyone could avoid that camera, climb over the wall, no problem. There must be another camera—there, in the lower branches of that oak. Someone needs to dirty it up, it’s a dead giveaway, so nice and sparkly new. Installed this week, I’ll bet.”

Savich pressed the button, identified himself and Sherlock.

A man’s deep voice came from the speaker. “Agent Savich, please hold your ID up toward the camera.”

Savich did, and the gate swung in quickly and smoothly away from them, and the Porsche cruised through. “Lovely grounds,” Sherlock said. “I can picture a tire hanging from that low oak branch over there. Sean would really like that.”

“I can see him and Marty fighting over who can spin faster.” There was a low branch on the maple tree in their backyard, actually. Maybe it was time to hang a tire.

He pulled up the circular driveway and stopped at the front door. “Ah, here’s our questioner from the gate.”

Hooley stood in the open front door, arms crossed over his massive chest, looking them over thoroughly as they walked toward him.

He said to Savich, “I know who you are, Agent Savich. Who is she?”

Sherlock gave him her sunny smile. “I’m his keeper,” she said, and stuck out her hand. “You must be Mr. Hooley. I’m Agent Sherlock. He never goes anywhere without me. It’s in my employment contract.”

Hooley stared at her for a long moment and shook her hand. “Your hair is an even brighter red than Mrs. Black’s. Curlier, too.” He said to Savich, “You’ve got quite a rep. Is it deserved?”

Savich said, “Rep for what, exactly?”

“Not wrestling, that’s for sure,” Sherlock said. “I’ve got that gold medal.”

Hooley looked like he wanted to laugh but didn’t. “A rep as a hotshot, like when you were in the papers for bringing down those bank robbers in Georgetown. Follow me. Your boy and Mrs. Black are in the sunroom.” He paused for a moment. “I’m glad Mrs. Black consented to bringing you in. What’s going on isn’t good, and there are only three of us to watch her. Beautiful machine,” he added, nodding toward the Porsche.

Savich said, “Thanks. Davis makes four professionals protecting her, but you’re right, it’s time to figure out how to deal with this and put a stop to it. You can thank Agent Sullivan for talking her into seeing me.”

Hooley looked unconvinced. After a long trek, he showed them into the sunroom door. “Mrs. Black. There are two agents here. This one with your hair is Agent Sherlock; she says she’s his keeper, contractually.”

Davis laughed.

Natalie stood up, looked straight at Savich, trying to get his measure? Probably. He supposed she was very good at reading people; she’d have to be. He stuck out his hand. “Davis has told us about your situation, Mrs. Black. This is Agent Sherlock.”

They shook hands. Natalie smiled at Sherlock. “Hooley’s right. You do have my hair, ah, but the shine.” She sighed. “That was a long time ago.” Out of habit, Savich and Sherlock showed her their creds as she spoke.

Davis introduced Perry, who nodded to them, watching them closely. Natalie said, “Please sit down. Davis asked me to make croissants, and so I did. Help yourselves. I understand, Agent Savich, that you prefer tea, straight—say, Earl Grey?”

Savich nodded.

Perry said, “You’re partners?”

“Partners in everything,” Davis said. “They’re married.”

Perry examined Savich, a big man with a dark complexion who looked tough to his marrow, but with a strong, very fine face, nearly black hair and eyes. The woman was tall, dressed in black pants, a crisp white shirt, black boots on her feet. She looked like a sprite or a redheaded fairy princess with blue eyes, a lovely smile, and no hard edges to her. “Married,” she repeated. “I can’t imagine how that could possibly work.”

Three minutes passed discussing this anomaly while Natalie passed them their croissants. Davis finally said, “Let’s get to it, then. I told Savich everything you said, Natalie. I’m sure he has questions.”

Savich set down his teacup and looked over at Mrs. Natalie Black, the ambassador to the United Kingdom. “First of all, I’ve had a full rundown on what happened last night. Whoever is behind this is getting desperate to take that kind of chance, knowing you had protection with you in the car. No fingerprints, so that also means our person is very careful.