Marine One

The envelope that I held had my name and address on it. It was a letter-size, not thick. I asked, "Did you open this?"

She shook her head. "No. He told me to bring it to you and I have. It's out of my hands and into yours. So I think I'll go now."

"Wait one minute. I want you to be here when I open it."

She was hesitant, but said nothing.

I broke the seal of the Scotch tape on the back flap and opened the envelope. I pulled out a piece of paper and a key. On the piece of paper was written, If you're reading this, something has happened to me. I can't tell you what, 'cause I don't know. I also can't tell you if it was related to this case. I hope not. And I hope I didn't make a fool of myself, but I told you I'd take care of you so I'm going to. Then in large block letters he had written, J. Mark Grosvenor. Underneath was a home address, cell phone number, home telephone number, and pager. Taped to the bottom of the page was a key. I pulled the key off and looked at it. I wasn't sure what it was. I held it up. "Do you recognize this?"

Cherie took her reading glasses out of her purse and examined the key. "Well, I do. It's a key for a safety-deposit box at our bank."

"Is this from your safety-deposit box?"

She shook her head. "No, ours is a different number."

"You think this is another safety-deposit box at your bank?"

"Looks like it to me."

I looked at my watch and considered the implications of putting Bradley on the witness stand with no preparation. If anyone could do it, it was him. "Take me there. Now. We don't have any time to lose."

I stood up, put the key in my pocket, and said to Debbie, "Would you watch Wayne? Don't let him out of your sight, except for the bathroom. Seriously. Literally. Do not let him out of your sight. If anybody comes to the door looking for me or him, or anybody else, nobody's home. I'll call you on your cell phone, otherwise don't talk to anybody. Don't answer the house phone. Understand?" She looked alarmed at my intensity.

"I understand, but explain this to me."

"Later." I turned to Cherie. "Let's go. I'll drive."

As I started my car, I pulled out my cell phone from my glove box and texted Rachel, who was sitting next to Brightman in trial. She was probably pulling her hair out. I told her to call me at her first break and I headed off to D.C.

It was an awkward drive. I was actually surprised I'd never met Ti

As we drove along, I continued to look at the cars around me. I noticed one that had been behind me the entire way. A fairly new Dodge Caravan. It had stayed fairly far back most of the time. But once it had come close enough for me to get a look at the driver. I had seen young Asian men drive all sorts of cars, but never a Dodge Caravan.

By the time we got to D.C. and headed toward the Northeast section, near Mercedes' Grill, I had almost forgotten about the trial. That was refreshing. As we turned down Te

We turned into the parking lot, found a spot, and walked into the bank. I followed her straight to the back left corner of the lobby, where they had a light wooden wall with a glass door that separated the safety-deposit boxes from the rest of the bank. She pressed a buzzer next to the door. A young black man appeared on the other side of the glass, recognized her, and smiled. He pressed a button on his side of the glass that released the door, and he pulled it open. We stepped through. "Hello, Ronald," she said, shaking his hand gently. "This is my friend Mike Nolan."

Ronald said, "Hello, Mrs. Byrd. I'm glad to see you. I'm really sorry about Ti

She nodded and fought back a tear. "Thank you. Would you give us a hand? I'm here to open a safety-deposit box."

"Yours and Ti

"No. Another one. Show him the key, Mike."

I handed Ronald the key, which he examined.

"Sure, let me check it. Was it listed under Ti

"I don't know. I assume so."

He returned with the signature card in his hand. "It's in Ti

I couldn't believe my ears. I said, "He gave me the key to this box and told me to retrieve something. I'm in the middle of a trial, and it may be evidence. Don't you recognize me?"

Ronald looked at me and suddenly realized who I was. "You're the attorney in the trial about the president's helicopter."

"Exactly. And Ti

Ronald read it and returned Ti

I felt that old nemesis of mine, that white anger that I sometimes had to fight, raging up inside me. I had to pause for a moment. "Ronald, this is not the time to be a bureaucratic hero and screw me with rules. Let us into that safety-deposit box."

I had miscalculated. He felt the power that came from being able to deny an angry person his strongest desire. "I can't, Mr. Nolan. Sorry."

"You'd better get the manager."

Ronald said, "It won't make any difference. He's the one that told me never to change these rules. But worse, he's out."

I detected just a slight bit of joy in Ronald. It was total bullshit and I was not going to be deterred. "Is there anyone here senior to you, Ronald?"

"Assistant manager. Debra Hastings. She's over there."

I looked around, saw Debra, went back to the glass door, buzzed the button I'd seen him buzz, and slammed it open. I marched across to Debra's desk and interrupted a conversation she was having that was undoubtedly extremely important, probably somebody opening a new checking account. "Ms. Hastings. As the assistant manager, I need your help with a safety-deposit box immediately. This is an emergency. Ronald asked me to get you."

She looked at me like I was a lunatic. "I'm with a customer, sir, you'll have to wait-"

"No, I'm not waiting for anything. Get up, come with me right now to the safety-deposit-box area. I must insist."

"Sir, are you threatening me?"

"No. I am not. I am begging you."

She looked at this customer sitting in a chair that was right next to me who was trying to inch away from me and said, "Will you excuse me for just a minute, I'll be right back."