Orchid Blues

"Can you see them?" Harry asked the driver.

"No, sir, but I've got confirmation on my earpiece that they're in sight up ahead. We'll be working a four-vehicle pattern. They'll never know."

"I hope you're right," Harry said.

Following directions from the radio, they headed toward Miami Beach.

Ham, John and Peck all sat in the rear seat at John's direction, even though it was cramped.

"Ham," John said, "start handing our luggage from the rear up here."

Ham didn't understand, but he did as he was told.

"You hold on to the rifle. I'll take your bag."

"What's going on?" Peck asked.

"You'll see in a minute," John replied.

"Who's behind the van now? " Harry said into the radio. "Car four."

"Can you see inside?"

"Not really. The windows have that dark vinyl stuff on them."

"How close are you?"

"Two cars between me and them."

"Drop back another car. I don't want to crowd them."

"Yes, sir."

Traffic was fairly heavy. Ham, who was sitting on the right side of the van, looked out and saw another van, a maroon one, keeping pace with them in the right lane.

"We'll do it at the traffic light," John said. "Ham, get ready to open the door."

Ham put his hand on the door handle.

The van came to a stop, and the maroon van stopped beside it, only inches away.

"Let's go," John said. "Open the door and get into the other van, Ham."

Ham slid the door open, just as the left-hand door of the maroon van opened. He tossed the rifle across, then stepped into the other van and sat down. Peck and John followed him, and the doors to both vans slid closed, clearly by remote control. "Go," John said, as the light changed. "You know the drill."

The driver made a right turn and sped away.

"Have you made the change?" Harry said into the radio. "Who's behind the van now?"

"Car two," a voice responded.

They drove along in silence for a few minutes.

"Not moving very fast, are they?" Doug said.

"I guess they don't want to risk a traffic stop," Harry replied.

"Car one, this is car two."

"I'm here," Harry said into the radio.

"Something strange. The van just pulled into a McDonald's."

"Pass it by," Harry said. "Next car, pull into the McDonald's. Everybody else pull over and wait for instructions. Who knew they would get hungry?"

The driver stopped the car. Everyone waited. Five minutes passed. Harry picked up the radio. "What's happening?"

"Car four is in the McDonald's parking lot. The driver got out and went in alone."

"Is there a big line for food?"

"No, sir. He ordered a Big Mac, and he's sitting there alone, eating it."

"Oh, shit," Harry said. "We've been had."

57

The driver of the van seemed to be working his way west, making frequent turns.

"Anybody behind us?" John asked, after twenty minutes.

"We're clean," the driver replied.

"Then go on as pla

Peck spoke up. "Aren't we going to the hotel?" he asked.

John didn't speak, just held a finger to his lips for silence. They drove on.

Ham didn't understand any of it.

"This will do," John said, finally.

The van stopped. They were on a narrow paved road, and from what Ham could see in the headlights through the wet windshield, they seemed to be in a swampy area. He could see no house lights.

"Peck," John said, "I want to speak to you privately for a moment." He got out of the van, and Peck followed him, giving Ham a shrug and a mystified look.

The two men walked behind the van. Almost immediately, there was a pistol shot, and a moment later, another.

Ham thought, 7.65 millimeter.

A long moment passed, then John got back into the van, this time in the front seat. "Now we'll go to the hotel," he said.

The driver made a U-turn, and they went back the way they had come. Ham saw a foot protruding from a ditch as they passed where Peck's body lay.

"Peck was an informant for somebody, probably the FBI," John said quietly.

"How did you know?" Ham asked.

"A number of things: the sudden improvement in cell phone service at the compound, and Peck was the only one left with a cell phone. Even our flight clearance tonight. We would never, in the normal course of events, be cleared direct to a Miami airport. It just doesn't happen, unless someone is paving the way. There were other things, too: odd behavior. I really began to notice only after the cellphone incident."

Ham realized that he had probably gotten Peck killed.

Holly could see that Harry was angry and depressed.

"They changed cars somehow," Harry said. "I should have been behind them myself."

"What now?" Holly asked. They were driving along the main drag in South Beach.

"I'm taking you to your hotel," Harry said.

The van pulled up in front of the Delano. It was a terribly chic South Beach hotel that Holly knew only from magazines. "I hope they like dogs," she said, clipping on Daisy's leash.

"If they give you a hard time, flash your badge and tell them Daisy is a police dog." Harry got out of the car, got Holly's luggage from the trunk and handed it to a bellman. He took Holly's arm and walked her slowly toward the door. "Now, listen," he said. "You've got the most important job in all this. You're having di

"Harry, what is this about?" Holly demanded.

"Chip is the head of the White House Secret Service detail," Harry said. "Your job is to find out if the president is in Miami and to get his complete schedule from Chip."

"I don't understand. Why don't you just ask him?"

"Chip and I have this little competitive thing," Harry said. "He won't tell me directly."

"You mean the head of the Miami FBI office is not entitled to know if the president is on his turf?"

"Normally, yes, if I went through a lot of red tape, but there's no Miami visit on the president's official schedule, and Chip won't tell me about any unofficial visit."

"Then, if the president is in town, you think he's the target?"

"Very probably."

"And do you plan to share this information with the head of the White House Secret Service detail?"

"At the appropriate moment," Harry said, "and we're not there yet. First, I have to know if the president is in town and what he's doing."

"Harry, if this guy makes a pass at me over di

"If he makes a pass at you, you have my full permission to do just that."

"Does he know who I am?"

"No, only your name and that he's meeting you."

"Oh, all right," Holly said. "How do I reach you?"

"I'll reach you on your scrambled cell phone," Harry said. "Now, just go in there and register. The room's all booked, and you're the guest of the Bureau, so live it up." He left her standing in the door, which was being held open by another bellman.

Holly did not like all these games. If she were ru

The van stopped at the entrance to the Savoy, a large hotel across the boulevard from the beach that had seen better days.

"Just go in there and register as Owen Sanford," John said. "You have a reservation; go up to your room and wait. I'll be right behind you."