The Charlemagne Pursuit (Cotton Malone 4)

Silence engulfed the church.

Werner lay on the ground. Christl stood. Dorothea sat. Malone glared to his left.

In an upper gallery above the church's vestibule, where centuries ago a choir may have sung, Ulrich Henn lowered a scoped rifle. Beside him, grim and defiant, gazing down from her vantage point, stood Isabel Oberhauser.

FIFTY-SEVEN

WASHINGTON, DC

RAMSEY WATCHED AS DIANE MCCOY OPENED THE CAR DOOR AND slipped into the passenger seat. He'd been waiting outside the administrative building for her to arrive. Her call fifteen minutes ago had signaled alarm.

"What the hell have you done?" she asked.

He wasn't about to volunteer anything.

"Daniels ordered me into the Oval Office an hour ago and reamed my ass."

"You going to tell me why?"

"Don't play that coy crap with me. You leaned on Aatos Kane, didn't you?"

"I spoke with him."

"And he spoke with the president."

He sat patient and quiet. He'd known McCoy for several years. He'd studied her background. She was careful and deliberate. The nature of her job demanded patience. Yet here she was outright mad. Why?

His cell phone, resting on the dashboard, lit up, signaling an incoming message. "Excuse me. I can't be unavailable." He checked the display, but did not respond. "It can wait. What's wrong, Diane? I simply asked for the senator's assistance. Are you telling me that no one else has made contact with the White House trying the same thing?"

"I'm telling you that Aatos Kane is a different animal. What did you do?"

"Not all that much. He was thrilled that I communicated with him. He said that I would make an excellent addition to the Joint Chiefs. I told him that if he felt that way, then I would appreciate any support he could show."

"Langford, it's just you and me here, so cut the speeches. Daniels was flaming mad. He resented Kane's involvement, blamed me. Said I was in league with you."

He screwed his face into a frown. "In league for what?"

"You're a piece of work. You told me the other day that you could deliver Kane and you damn well did. I don't want to know how or why, but I do want to know how Daniels tied me to you. This is my ass here."

"And a nice ass it is."

She exhaled. "How is that productive?"

"It's not. Just a truthful observation."

"Are you going to offer anything to help? I've worked a long time to get this far."

"What exactly did the president say?" He needed to know.

She slapped away his question with the back of her hand. "Like I'm going to tell you that."

"Why not? You're accusing me of something improper, so I'd like to know what Daniels had to say."

"Mighty different attitude from when we last talked." Her voice had dropped.

He shrugged. "As I recall, you thought I'd make a fine addition to the Joint Chiefs, too. Is it not your duty, as national security adviser, to recommend good people to the president?"

"Okay, Admiral. Play the part, be a good soldier. The president of the United States is still pissed and so is Senator Kane."

"I can't imagine why. My conversation with the senator was most pleasant, and I haven't even spoken to the president, so I can't understand why he's angry with me."

"You going to Admiral Sylvian's funeral?"

He caught the subject shift. "Of course. I've been asked to participate in the honor guard."

"You've got balls."

He threw her his most charming smile. "I was actually touched to be asked."

"I came because we needed to talk. I'm sitting here in a parked car, like a fool, because I got myself entangled with you-"

"Entangled in what?"

"You know damn well what. The other night you made it clear that there was going to be a vacancy in the Joint Chiefs. One that didn't exist at the time."

"That's not what I recall. You're the one who wanted to speak to me. It was late, but you insisted. You came to my house. You were concerned about Daniels and his attitude toward the military. We spoke of the Joint Chiefs, in the abstract. Neither of us was aware that any vacancy would arise. Certainly not the next day. It's a tragedy that David Sylvian died. He was a fine man, but I fail to see how that has entangled us in any way."

She shook her head in disbelief. "I have to go."

He didn't stop her.

"Have a nice day, Admiral."

And she slammed the door.

He quickly replayed the conversation in his mind. He'd done well, delivering his thoughts in a casual manner. The night before last, when he and Diane McCoy had talked, she'd been an ally. Of that he was sure. But things had changed.

Ramsey's briefcase sat on the rear seat. Inside was a sophisticated monitor used to determine if electronic devices were either recording or broadcasting nearby. Ramsey kept one of the monitors in his house, which was how he knew no one had been listening.

Hovey had canvassed the parking lot, using a series of mounted security cameras. The call to his phone had been a text message. HER CAR PARKED IN WEST LOT. ACCESSED. RECEIVER AND RECORDER INSIDE. The monitor in the backseat had also sent a signal, so the final part of the message had been clear. she's wired.

He exited the car and locked the doors.

Couldn't be Kane. He'd been too interested in benefits coming his way and could not risk even the possibility of exposure. The senator knew that a betrayal would mean quick and devastating consequences.

No.

This was pure Diane McCoy.

MALONEWATCHED AS WERNER UNTIED DOROTHEA FROM THE COLUMN and she yanked the tape from across her mouth.

"What were you thinking?" she yelled. "Are you insane?"

"He was going to shoot you," her husband calmly said. "I knew Herr Malone was here, with a gun."

Malone stood in the nave, his attention toward the upper gallery and Isabel and Ulrich Henn. "I see you're not as ignorant of things as you wanted me to believe."

"Those men were here to kill you," the old woman replied.

"And how did you know they'd be here?"

"I came to make sure my daughters were safe."

Not an answer, so he faced Christl. Her eyes gave no indication as to her thoughts. "I waited in the village for you to arrive, but you were way ahead of me."

"It wasn't hard to find the connection between Einhard and Brightness of God."

He pointed up. "But that doesn't explain how she and your sister knew."

"I spoke with Mother last night, after you left."

He walked toward Werner. "I agree with your wife. What you did was foolish."

"You needed his attention drawn. I didn't have a gun, so I did what I thought would work."

"He could have shot you," Dorothea said.

"That would have ended our marriage problem."

"I never said I wanted you dead."

Malone understood the love-hate of marriage. His own had been the same way, even years after they separated. Luckily he'd made peace with his ex, though it had taken effort. These two, though, seemed a long way from any resolution.

"I did what I had to," Werner said. "And I'd do it again."

Malone glanced back up at the choir. Henn fled his post at the balustrade and disappeared behind Isabel.

"Can we now find whatever there is to find?" Isabel asked.

Henn reappeared and he saw the man whisper something to his employer.

"Herr Malone," Isabel said. "There were four men sent. We thought the other two would not be a problem, but they just entered the gate."

FIFTY-EIGHT

ASHEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

10:40 AM

CHARLIE SMITH STUDIED THE FILE ON DOUGLAS SCOFIELD. HE'D prepped this target over a year ago, but, unlike the others, this man had always been labeled optional.

Not anymore.

Apparently plans had changed, so he needed to refresh his memory.

He'd left Charlotte, heading north on US 321

to Hickory, where he'd veered onto I-40 and sped west toward the Smoky Mountains. He'd checked on the Internet, verifying that information in the file remained accurate. Dr. Scofield was scheduled to speak at a symposium he hosted every winter, this year's on the grounds of the famous Biltmore Estate. The event seemed a gathering of weirdos. Ufology, ghosts, necrology, alien abductions, cryptozoology. Lots of bizarre subjects. Scofield, though a professor of anthropology at a Tennessee university, was deeply involved with pseudo-science, authoring a host of books and articles. Since Smith had not known when, or if, he'd be ordered to move on Douglas Scofield, he hadn't given much thought to the man's demise.

He was now parked outside a McDonald's, a hundred yards from the entrance to Biltmore Estate.