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Each bay had a number. From her previous visit, Gi
“What are you doing?” McKenzie demanded.
Gi
“I’m checking to see if there were any prior insurance claims by this guy. We think he might be a flake. What are you doing here?”
McKenzie stared at her for a few seconds before answering.
“Mr. Masterson sent me. He wants to see you.”
“I’ll be right up.”
“He wants you now.”
Gi
On the ride up, Gi
When Gi
“Tell Mr. Masterson that I’ve got Gi
“He wants you,” he said. Then he turned his back on her and walked off.
Masterson smiled when Gi
“How are you getting along at the firm?”
“Fine. It’s very interesting work, especially my assignment with Miss Stewart’s nomination hearing.”
“And you’re fitting in, feeling comfortable?”
“Definitely.”
Masterson leaned back in his chair. “I imagine a day at the firm is a lot less exciting than what you were used to in Oregon.”
“Quite honestly, Mr. Masterson, not having to dodge reporters is a big relief.”
“I can empathize with you from my days at the CIA. Everywhere I went, there were cameras flashing and microphones shoved in my face. Knowing what we know, I wonder how you and I would have voted if we were back in colonial times and considering what to do with the First Amendment.”
Gi
Masterson picked up a thick folder and held it out to Gi
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Good. I’d like it by the day after tomorrow.”
“No problem,” Gi
“Is your fiancé enjoying his work at the Court?”
Gi
“And he likes working for Justice Moss?”
“Yes.”
“That was something.” Masterson shook his head. “If a Supreme Court justice isn’t safe in the sanctuary of the Court, none of us are.”
Gi
“I understand you were in the subbasement.”
“Yes,” Gi
“That place has always u
Gi
“Retrieving files from that graveyard is the job of a secretary or legal assistant. Who sent you down there? I’ll make certain it doesn’t happen again.”
“Actually, no one sent me. I was just looking for a file in an insurance case.”
“You won’t need to go to the subbasement to complete this assignment,” Masterson said. “It was nice talking to you.”
Gi
Chapter Forty-nine
Dana had neglected her other cases while she was in Oregon, and she played catch-up starting the morning after her visit to Brad Miller’s apartment. She was finishing a report in an industrial-espionage case when she heard the ringtone of the cell phone with the number few people knew.
“Yeah?” Dana said.
“It’s Pat; I’ve got an assignment for you. We’re going to do a feature on Indian legends like shape-shifters and Indian vampires.”
“Do Indians believe in vampires?”
“Don’t be a bigot. Surely you don’t think that the only cultural group that can have vampire legends are lily-white Eastern Europeans? You’re not an Aryan supremacist, are you?”
“Definitely not where vampires are concerned. Go on.”
“Anyway, a good place to start is the National Museum of the American Indian. Have you been there?”
“Not yet. Jake did a photo shoot inside, but I was out of town conducting surveillance.”
“Well, here’s your chance to level the cultural playing field with your boyfriend. Somebody in that place should know a few legends you can use. Why don’t you drop over as soon as you can so you can get a jump on the story.”
The National Museum of the American Indian, part of the Smithsonian Institution, was located at Fourth Street and Independence Avenue. The museum was one of the more interesting architectural structures on the Mall. The adobe brown, curvilinear building was designed to resemble natural stone formations and was a stark contrast to the buildings that surrounded it.