Body of Lies (21 page)

Joe reached in his pocket and brought out his phone book. “You’re right, Nathan’s a newspaperman. He should be able to track the target down.”

“And he’s in Boca right now.” She was rapidly dialing Nathan’s number. “Which is where we need to be. Will you call and get us reservations out of New Orleans while I talk to Nathan?”

Chapter 19

“Christ.” Nathan was silent for a moment after Eve had finished speaking. “It’s got to be Franklin Copeland.”

Shock rippled through Eve. “What?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t guess. It’s been all over the newspapers and television for the past couple days. The Old Tiger is a sick man.”

“We haven’t been paying any attention to the news.”

“I can see how you’ve been a little busy.”

“Old Tiger,” she repeated. “That’s what Hebert called him.”

“That was Copeland’s nickname when he was a colonel in Vietnam before he became president. War hero, ex-President of the United States, and for the last fifteen years, he’s been known for his work with UNESCO. I’d say he’d warrant a pretty impressive guest list for his funeral.”

“Is he supposed to be buried in Boca?”

“I don’t know. I can find out.” Silence. “Jesus, I met Copeland once when he was lecturing in New Orleans. I liked him. He’s one hell of a guy.”

Eve had never met him, but she’d liked what she’d known of him, too. He had seemed a warm, intelligent man with no delusions of grandeur.

“We’re talking as if he’s dead already,” Nathan said. “What the hell can we do to save him?”

“What’s he suffering from?” She inhaled sharply. “Anthrax?”

“No.”

It had been her first thought, connecting Copeland’s illness to the anthrax scare in Boca Raton a year or two ago.

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing suspicious. He has heart problems aggravated by severe asthma. The asthma seemed to be pretty well under control for the past couple years, but he’s had several attacks in the past few weeks. He’s been in and out of the hospital three times—the last bout of asthma triggered a heart attack.”

“Asthma . . . What could trigger an attack? Some kind of poison?”

“Beats me. But the Secret Service should be able to find out, once they know what’s happening. You’re on your way down here?”

“As soon as we can get a plane. Find us a place to stay outside the city. We have to keep a low profile. We don’t want anyone to know Hebert’s dead.”

“That’s smart. Then you’ll want me to go to Copeland’s Secret Service team right away and tell them what we know.”

“Right.”

“I’m on it. Maybe they can save the old guy. Let me know what flight you’re on and I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“God, I hope it’s not too late.” She hung up and turned to Joe. “Franklin Copeland.”

He gave a low whistle. “It would fit. Not only famous, but loved by the masses.”

“And they’re killing him just for an excuse to have a goddamn meeting.” She could feel the tears sting her eyes. “I wish they’d all burn in hell.”

“It must be a pretty important meeting,” he said thoughtfully. “Etienne told Nathan they never meet in person unless something critical is in the balance. I’d be interested in knowing what’s on their agenda.”

“So would I. We’ll find out.” She swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. “But it’s Copeland who’s important right now. What time can we get out of New Orleans?”

“First flight is ten a.m. to Fort Lauderdale. It’s about a forty-minute drive to Boca. There’s nothing direct.”

She started for the bathroom. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Nathan was waiting for them at the gate. She didn’t have to hear his first sentence. It was all there in his face.

“Sorry. Copeland died two hours ago.”

Disappointment flooded her. She had been hoping against hope that they could save him. She felt the tears sting her eyes. “I really hoped—”

“Let’s get out of here.” Joe took her arm and guided her down the corridor. “What about the Secret Service? You got through to them?”

Nathan nodded. “For all the good it did me. It took me time I didn’t have to convince them they had to take me seriously. They thought I was just some wild-ass reporter trying to drum up a story. Then they called Rusk at the FBI to verify there was an ongoing investigation about the Cabal.”

“Did it help?”

He shook his head. “Rusk was killed in an automobile accident yesterday afternoon on his way home from the office.”

She stiffened in shock. “What?”

“Hit-and-run as he was crossing the street to go to the supermarket.”

Another death. No, another murder. Christ, would it never stop? “The Cabal.”

“That’s my guess. First Jennings, and then Rusk. They’re plugging all the possible leaks.”

“They didn’t catch who did it?”

Nathan shook his head. “A witness said the car was an old beat-up Buick. The driver was possibly of Hispanic descent.”

“But the Secret Service had to be suspicious that Rusk had been killed so conveniently.”

“His death could have been unrelated. No one in Rusk’s office knew anything about Copeland or anything that was going on down here.”

Evidence gets misplaced . . . agents have “accidents.”

Hebert’s words came back to her with chilling impact.

“So they wouldn’t listen to you,” she said dully.

“I didn’t say that. When they decided there was a small possibility the threat to Copeland could be genuine, they started to move. But it was too late. Copeland was already dead.” He made a face. “I’m feeling guilty as hell I didn’t get them to move faster.”

“I don’t know if we could have done any better,” Eve said. “There’s not even any proof Copeland was the target. Is there going to be an autopsy?”

Nathan nodded. “I hope so. I believe I convinced Copeland’s Secret Service agent Wilson to do it. But any investigation will be done very discreetly. They don’t want either his family or his high-powered friends to be on the attack if they find my story is bullshit. They want Copeland’s death to be as dignified as his life.”

“So the funeral will go on.”

Nathan nodded. “So it seems.”

“And the Cabal has what it wants.”

“At least the Secret Service knows that they may be meeting here.” Nathan opened the passenger door of a gray Chevrolet rental car. “That could lead to something.”

“Except they don’t know who they’re looking for.” Eve got into the car. “And if they don’t find any evidence Copeland was murdered, it may stop right there.”

“But we know one member of the Cabal who will be here,” Joe said. “Melton.”

Eve shook her head. “If he even comes. Hebert said he was scared shitless that he’d be targeted by Thomas Simmons. Melton suspected that the deaths of three Cabal members from his state weren’t the accidents they appeared. Melton thought he’d be next.”

“A meeting of the Cabal probably doesn’t happen that often, and it seems to be a pretty big deal,” Joe said. “I imagine Melton would have to have cast-iron proof there was a threat to his life to be excused from coming.”

“That’s what I thought.” Nathan backed out of the parking space. “So we still have a ball game. We trail Melton until we find out where they’re meeting, and then have the FBI close in.”

Eve shook her head. “What good would that do? These are important people, leading citizens of their countries. How can we prove they’re doing anything illegal? Do you think the FBI is going to take any action? It’s our word against theirs.”

Nathan’s lips tightened. “I’m not going to let it go. I’ve been cooling my heels down here, searching for the Cabal, searching for Simmons, and now I have a lead. Okay, we may not be able to call in the big guns. But we can shine a bright light on their damn secret society. We can get names and faces.”

“And maybe something more concrete,” Joe said thoughtfully. “Long-range listening devices. Videos. Photographs.”

“Their security has got to be fairly ironclad,” Eve said. “It will be difficult to get that close.”

“Their top man, Hebert, isn’t on the scene. That may give us a little opening.”

“I doubt it. They wouldn’t rely exclusively on Hebert. And they’re going to be suspicious when they can’t contact him. It might make them be even more careful.”

Nathan looked at Eve. “Are you saying you want to bow out?”

“No way. I’m just telling it the way I see it. We may not get everything we want, but I’ll take whatever we can get.”

Nathan smiled. “And, like Quinn said, it may be more than we think. I may get my Pulitzer after all.”

The small, white beach house to which Nathan took them was a few miles outside the city. “This is the best I could do in the short time I had. I handled the rental over the phone with a broker.”

“It will be fine.” Eve got out of the car. “As long as it’s private.”

“I’ll just take a look around the grounds. Be with you in a minute.” Joe strode around the house and down to the shore.

“The key should be under the palm tree in a lockbox. . . .” Nathan found the box, pressed the combination, and unlocked the front door. “You go inside. I’ll see if I can do anything to help Quinn check out the area.”

“He doesn’t need help.”

“I’ll do it anyway. I’m feeling responsible, since Galen isn’t underfoot.” He added fervently, “Thank God.”

Eve wearily shook her head as she closed the door. All this concern for her safety, and yet no one had been able to keep that poor old man safe. Not even his Secret Service guards. How had Hebert managed to kill him?

She crossed the room and turned on the TV set to CNN.

Franklin Copeland’s face appeared on the screen. They were running an obituary segment and she sank down on the couch to watch it. His wife, Lily, was still alive, and they showed her at the hospital when Copeland had suffered a heart attack a few weeks ago. She was a thin, elegant woman in her seventies; the bond between husband and wife was clear. Toward the end of the obituary they listed Copeland’s many accomplishments and works for charity. It was an impressive list. She hadn’t been aware that he was involved with Habitat for Humanity. She hadn’t paid much attention to the details of the man’s life.

But she’d damn well pay attention to his death.

Nathan and Joe came into the house a few minutes later. Joe dropped down on the couch beside Eve. “Anything?”

“The funeral is going to be at St. Catherine’s Cathedral day after tomorrow.”

“October twenty-ninth,” Joe said.

“Right on schedule.” She nodded at a TV shot of Kim Basinger getting on a plane in Los Angeles. “She traveled to Africa with Copeland for UNESCO. She’s on her way to the funeral.”

“I doubt if she’s one of the Cabal,” Nathan said dryly.

“Before her they showed James Tarrant, the British media mogul, hurrying from a meeting in London to the airport. He was quoted as saying the world had lost a great man, and he was going to pay homage.”

“Touching,” Joe said.

Nathan nodded. “It’s going to be hard to separate the gold from the dross. But Melton may be the key.” He turned to leave. “I’m going to the local newspaper office to see if I can find out when Melton is due to show up on the scene. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“And we need some photos of Thomas Simmons. Can you get them for us?”

“Ah, the shadow man.”

It was an apt description, Eve thought. Simmons had been lurking in the darkness all along, overshadowed by Hebert’s looming menace. “That ‘shadow man’ tried to kill me, and evidently has killed at least three Cabal members. I want to be able to recognize him.”

“I’m one step ahead of you. When I first came down here, I went on the Internet to the Cal Tech site and pulled off a staff picture and one from the college newspaper. I’ll make a couple copies for you and Quinn.”

“What was the name of Copeland’s Secret Service agent you talked to? Wilson?” Joe asked. “It’s a little soon, but I’m going to see if they found out anything from the autopsy yet.”

“Yeah, Pete Wilson.” Nathan grimaced. “I hope you have better luck with him than I did.” The door shut behind him.

Eve looked at Joe. “What next?”

“We need a car. We need surveillance equipment. We obviously need information. With any luck Nathan will supply the info. I’d better get busy on the rest.”

“Wait.” She hesitated. “Let’s call Galen.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to protest. “Among other things, Galen is a provider, and he does the job very well. He has contacts everywhere. I’ll bet he could pick up a phone and get us anything from a space suit to an atomic bomb. We need him, Joe.”

“We don’t need him.” He hesitated and then grimaced. “But we could use him.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“I can work with him. He brought me into the picture in Baton Rouge because our personal differences didn’t mean a damn to him if it meant keeping you safe. They can’t matter to me, either. Do you want to call him, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Joe headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee and then call Wilson and the precinct to find out if Carol’s seen any forensic reports yet.”

Eve nodded absently as she dialed Galen’s number.

“Hebert’s dead? Hallelujah,” Galen said when she’d finished filling him in. “And what an interesting way for Quinn to kill him. I approve.”

“I’m sure that will make him happy. Can you get us the items we need? It would be better if the Cabal doesn’t know Joe and I are still alive.”

“Piece of cake. Give me your address and phone number.”

“I don’t know what—” She saw the number on the phone and rattled it off, and then checked the address on the mailbox outside.

“Good.” Galen said. “I’m moving. I think Jonas Faber is still in Orlando. He can help.”

“Who’s Jonas Faber?”

“Ask him no questions, he’ll tell you no lies. Just accept that he can produce. And I’ll work on finding out where the meeting will be.”

“Nathan’s already on Melton.”

“Don’t send a boy to do a man’s job. I’ll get on the tech stuff right away.” He hung up.

“Well?” Joe stood in the kitchen doorway.

“He said he’s moving. Did you find out anything from Wilson?”

Joe shook his head. “No autopsy.”

“What?”

“The attending doctor said he knew exactly why Copeland died, and it was natural causes. He was allergic to mold, and lately the allergy had increased to a dangerous degree. He was tested a number of times in the hospital and it was always the same problem. They did everything to maintain sterile surroundings and keep mold away from him, but he refused to leave his home here in Florida or live in a bubble. Mold is everywhere down here.”