First Daughter

HOWDY, COWBOY," Nina Miller said when he picked her up in the shadows of North Taft Street.

Paull shifted over. "I do look a sight, don't I?"

She tossed his Stetson onto the front seat. As she settled herself beside him, he said, "We've got a problem."

"Another one," she inquired, "or the same one?"

That made him laugh, despite his foul mood. "I think all our problems devolve back to one person."

"I only wish it was Hugh Garner," Nina said. "Him I can handle."

"He needs decommissioning, that's for certain," Paull acknowledged. "Any ideas on that score?"

"Jack told me he practically drowned Peter Link, one of the heads of the FASR. He would've done the same to Chris Armitage if Jack hadn't stepped in."

"Forget it. The president just ordered the arrest and interrogation of all FASR members."

"Then it's begun."

Paull nodded grimly. "Despite all our efforts."

"Jack's, too. He intervened, stood up to Garner to stop the torture by threatening to call the president-elect. It was no idle threat, and Hugh knew it, so he backed down. But now he hates Jack's guts."

"All useful bona fides," Paull said thoughtfully. "Is Jack one of us?"

Nina made a waffling gesture with one hand. "I don't yet know whether he has a side. He seems to be the most apolitical person I've ever met. Systems-any system-are abhorrent to him."

"So what is he, then?" Paull asked.

"Actually," Nina said, "from all the evidence, I'd say he's a humanist."

Paull seemed lost in contemplation.

The police car had taken the Curtis Memorial Parkway and was now on the Francis Scott Key Bridge, heading into Georgetown. The early morning fog had lifted, revealing a high sky filled with sunlight. There was only a light breeze. Paull, who hated overheated vehicles, had rolled down his window partway. He enjoyed the crisp air on his face and neck.

"The problem," Paull said, his eyes half-closed against the wind, "is that despite all my high-tech efforts at security, I've been undone by a very low-tech methodology: lip-reading."

"Someone on your yacht?"

He nodded. "The fucking captain, of all people."

"Wasn't he properly vetted?"

Paull shot her a pitying look. "We're talking someone inside the White House, very high up. All the vetting in the world is useless against being turned by someone of that stature."

The car took M Street, then turned north on Rock Creek Parkway.

"Surely you don't believe that the president recruited him directly?"

"I do not," Paull said. The car pulled to the side of the road within Rock Creek Park. "Walk with me. The driver will pick us up at the food shack two miles on."

They climbed out of the car and began to walk. The police car was soon gone. Paull had left his ridiculous Stetson in the front seat. The sun was but a sheen behind the tissue of white clouds. Nina pulled the collar of her peacoat up around her neck; Paull jammed his hands in his pockets as they set off together, surrounded by trees and brush.

"I've been thinking hard about your question," Paull said. "No, the president is too wily to initiate anything against me on his own. I'm not even certain that he's aware of the death of those two men who were following Jack to protect him. Therefore, he has to have a middle man."

"You mean a hatchet man."

"Call him what you will, Nina, we have a very potent enemy in the Administration."

"It's imperative we know his identity, don't you think?"

Paull nodded. "I most certainly do. Because the president is involved, even if it's on a nontactical level, our man has to be either the Secretary of State or the National Security Advisor."

Nina shuddered. "I wouldn't want either of them as an enemy."

"I hear you," Paull acknowledged, "but that's the hand we've been dealt."

They were nearing a fork in the road, and he directed them to the right, along a high embankment. A stream glimmered dully below. Apart from a smattering of passing cars, there was no one about.

"The good news is that I've worked out which one it is," Paull continued. "The message the captain sent was on the same day you and I met on the yacht. The time was a few minutes after you left. At that time, the president was on his way to Moscow to meet with President Yukin. He could have taken the call himself, of course, but that seems unlikely. The president maintains a high level of plausible deniability by using selected intermediaries he deems expendable."

"Both the Secretary of State and the National Security Advisor were with him on Air Force One," Nina said.

"So they were, but only one of them has knowledge of-and therefore access to-a specific high-level asset. I'm this asset's handler, that's how important he is. He's abruptly dropped off the grid, he hasn't made his dead drops in months. However, I have reason to believe that as recently as last week, this particular asset has been in touch with someone else in the Administration. I am very much afraid this high-ranking official is using this asset-a murderer without a speck of conscience-for his own purposes."

"What purposes?"

"That I'm not at liberty to disclose." How about kidnapping Edward Carson's daughter so the crime can be labeled an act of terrorism and laid at the missionary secularists' door, Paull thought. "At first, I suspected it might be the president himself, but now I think it might be the only other person who knows of the asset's existence: the National Security Advisor."

"So the National Security Advisor has been working, at the president's behest, against us."

Paull nodded. "It seems most likely. But I've bought us some time. I told him that I've been ru

"That's too close to the truth."

Paull smiled thinly. "Have faith; that's as far as the truth goes. I sold them the story that I'm going to find a way to poison Jack against Edward Carson. Jack then goes to Reverend Taske, gets him to turn the power of the RMC against Carson."

Nina shook her head. "What I wouldn't give for fifteen minutes inside that brain of yours."

"Now that we know who we're fighting," Paull said, "we'd better rally the troops and man the ramparts."

"Good God, you're not talking about an all-out war, are you?"

"Not out in the open. But we've already felt the first shot across our bows-the turning of two of my men, plus my captain. Our first order of business is to root out any others. We can't mount a reasonable response if the opposite side knows every move we make."

"I'll get right on it," Nina said.

"Use the Secret Service facilities, not Homeland Security's."

"Gotcha."

They walked a bit farther, lost in their own thoughts.

"Now tell me what's new with our boy, Jack," Paull said.

"Sir, do you recall a double murder at McMillan Reservoir about twenty-five years ago?"

"That would be Metro Police territory, wouldn't it?"

"Apparently not this one. I checked Metro's records of the incident. There aren't any. According to Jack, there was very little in the papers. I checked out his story, and he's right. For that kind of crime, there was precious little ink spilled-not even the names of the victims. Everything was hushed up, so it must have been at a high government level."

"What's McClure's interest in the double murder?"

"I don't know, we haven't had time to talk about it at length," Nina said. "But he also has an intense interest in a local drug supplier working at the same time. Jack said no one knew who he was or where he came from, but that he had a tremendous amount of juice. No one could ever lay a hand on him, a man named Ian Brady."

For a moment, Paull thought that he'd been struck by a car that had jumped the curb. For certain he was having an out-of-body experience. When he was able to gather his scattered senses, he said, "Come again?"